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  1. 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
    31 points
  2. 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.”
    20 points
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. 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.
    18 points
  6. 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
  7. 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
  8. 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
  9. 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
  10. Thank you to all of my readers. Your feedback was incredibly flattering. I especially want to thank you if you read the whole thing starting back in June. I didn't expect it to take four months to post the whole thing, but I knew it would take a while. Normally, this is the part where I give little snippets about behind the scenes stuff, but The Repository is so absurdly long that almost nothing got cut. Only one chapter did. Originally, Puck and Vaughn did go to the high school reunion. But it was a weirdly rushed, largely uninteresting chapter. More importantly, it detracted from Puck pulling away from Vaughn, which is where that section was always going. The only plot-related bit in that deleted chapter was Gregg giving Vaughn ten pounds permanently, and I worked that in without the whole reunion. The few interesting bits of color from that chapter--the plane ride, the hotel room, learning Gregg had two husbands--were cannibalized and incorporated elsewhere (the trip to Vancouver and the phone call with Gregg in Part 5, respectively). I do miss some little touches from that chapter that I wasn't able to save: Puck gave a long speech about the virtues of hotel room sex, and, at the reunion, Puck dressed garishly in the school's colors (orange and blue) and wore a nametag that said "Robin Goodfellow." But, none of this could save the whole chapter. Trust me, the version you got was stronger because they didn't go to the reunion. The only other bit I cut that I miss was some follow-up on Steele and Rhodes. Rhodes, it turns out, had fathered a love child when he was in high school and Rhodes is now an out and proud gay man. Margaret told Vaughn these things in Part 4 when she was looking for any skeletons in Vaughn's closet. However, it was a lengthy distraction for characters I doubt few people cared about. Thank you--again--for reading.
    11 points
  11. Thanks for the comments, guys. That was the last chapter of Part One. The whole of Part Two takes place at the McCarthy Classic/Chicago trip. I might do a little run-down of the fictional pro bodybuilders competing who are mentioned/featured over the next few chapters.
    8 points
  12. My boyfriend Travis has always been a big dude. We’d been friends ever since freshman year in high school. And I mean, he was big then. Always tall…not ferociously so, but definitely a head and a half above me. Good abs, decent legs, not much on the biceps. But holy shit, this boy had always owned some huge pecs. They were disproportionate, without a doubt. He actually looked like he had breasts if he turned the right way. That was the joke I’d always make…I’d call them his boobs, smack them lightly, he’d laugh and usually push me. He said it was genetics, but I’d always find him in the weight room after school, pumping iron and nothing else. I’d tell him that he needed to vary his workouts or he’d only grow one muscle group, but I think he was too lunkheaded to really get it…that, and I think he knew what he was doing, too. Well, senior year arrived. By then, I had figured out just which kind of people I liked…and Travis was one of them. And like I said, he’d always been a big dude. Still head and shoulders above me, but he’d bulked up a fair bit in four years. Gentle biceps, carved abs, stellar legs (he had joined Varsity soccer, you see). But yes, as I’m sure you’re jerking to, his pecs had ballooned. He was bigger than most the girls in our grade. Fat and weighty, yet impossibly wide and strong, shirt stretching and fabric busting, he actually had breasts at this point. I’m sure his back would have been sore every morning…if his back wasn’t wide enough to be a small table. We had kept close, even with him being a total jock and me a theatre idiot (and I use the term endearingly). The routine was the same. He’d chat idly about his workout, I’d call them boobs, smack them, and he’d shove me over. He was a strong boy. The last day of senior year arrived. It was bittersweet for sure. Travis and I had promised to keep in touch; I was going to Oneonta, he was going to Binghamton. Close, but by no means an easy drive. We were chilling after our last class, alone in the hallway. It was nostalgic, for sure, but I was trying to work up the courage to tell him how I felt. How his smile melted my heart, how he was just such a sweetheart and a goofball and how I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Ah, high school. So when he smiled sadly and bounced his pecs hard in his shirt, I kind of felt my body moving on it’s own. “Me and the boobs are gonna miss you!” My hands went to smack his pecs like always…and lingered. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands had completely enclosed his pecs and were squeezing gently. Travis’s eyes closed tight and he let out a startled grunt. I drew back instantly, trying to play it off. “S-sorry, a bit much…” He opened his eyes, gasping gently. “D-do that again.” Shocked, I slowly gave his pecs another thick squeeze, a little more firmly than before. Travis visibly rocked, biting his lip with those perfect teeth. Gasping in pleasure, his eyes fluttered as I chanced another grope. I became very very aware of a swelling bulge in the front of his gym shorts, thick and gorged. He was big everywhere! The more I squeezed, the harder he got. The harder I clenched, the harder his cock pulsed to life. I began to rhythmically squeeze and knead, my own cock swelling as I massaged and fondled my crush’s immense, heavy pecs. Finally we both seemed to realize where we were. In no time someone would walk down the hallway and see us. Travis’ eyes flickered naughtily and he grinned down at me. “Like them, huh?” I flushed hard, averting my eyes. “Wh-what can I say? Always had a thing for your b…pecs…” He snickered, slowly but surely peeling off his shirt. I flushed even harder, looking down the hallway. “T-Travis!” He grinned, letting his shirt drop to the floor. I got hard the second his enormous, heavy pecs tumbled out to rest on his washboard abs. “Relax. We’re adults now.” He pulled me in, humping our cocks together slowly. “And you can call them boobs. I have you to thank for getting me so into them!” He was getting closer and closer, my hands trembling as they rested on his bulging pecs. “T-Travis…” He was inches away, his breath hot on my lips. “Would have never grown them this big…never gotten so enamored with them…if not for you.” And then he kissed me. Lights exploded in my brain as his lips pushed into mine. My hand went to rub his carved, angular jawline as my other continued to squeeze and fondle his behemoth pec. As he pulled off slowly, his mouth broke into that dazzling grin I’d grown so fond of. He hitched his thumbs into his waistband, cock still rock hard under his shorts. I grabbed his hands quickly, head whipping down the hall. I hissed through closed teeth, mortified and impossibly aroused at the same time. “Travis!” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking cockily. “Who cares? What will they do? Send us to the principals on the last day of our senior year?” I pushed him just out of view, breath coming fast. “Travis, please! L-let’s find a bathroom or something…” He touched my chin with his baseball-mitt sized hand. “Let’s make a deal. If you give me a hand job right here, right now…” He leaned in, humping once, firm and hard, sending shivers through us both. “…I’ll be your boyfriend.” My breath caught in my throat. Travis kissed me again, guiding my hand to his throbbing member. Jesus, he felt huge. “T-Travis…let’s be real. We’re going to different colleges…you’re obviously going to find others…” He pushed me against the opposite wall, in full view of the adjoining hall as he pinned my arms above my head, kissing me long and deep, his huge pecs shoving against my chest. “Do I look like a fucking idiot to you? Why would I go for a dime a dozen twink or chick when I have my best friend, my biggest admirer and encourager…right here?” This was a side I had never seen before…and it was turning me the fuck on. Cocky yet sweet, arrogant yet charming…I could see us together for a LONG time. Gazing into his perfect eyes, I slowly freed my arm from his vice grip and snuck it down his shorts. My hand closed on what felt like a banana of flesh. Shivering in fear and arousal, I slowly began to stroke it, my hands traveling along what felt like nine inches of cock. Travis smirked, bringing my other hand to his bulbous pec. “No no, in the open. And keep squeezing my tit. It gets me rock solid.” God, he was really something. Gulping nervously, I tugged his cock out of his shorts, gasping in pleasure as it sprung up. Easily nine, maybe ten. He was huge in every way…Travis smiled, guiding me gently into the center of the hallway. Now if anyone turned the corner or walked out of a classroom, we’d be spotted. I was shivering so hard I almost thought I had hypothermia, but yet I continued to squeeze and stroke at a solid pace, hoping to get it over with. Travis bit his lip and grunted gently with each spastic motion, his hips bucking as his huge back arched, shoving those fat pecs into my hand even further, flesh spilling out of my fingers. He leaned in hard and kissed me, humping one last time before his cock throbbed, firing thick and heavy against the wall behind us. He went good and strong for a little bit before gasping for air, collapsing against me. I grunted in effort, struggling to support his full, muscular weight. Finally he picked himself up, tucking his shrinking cock back into his waistband. Kissing me quickly on the lips, he pulled his shirt back on, to my gentle dismay. “Well, a bet’s a bet. Guess I’m yours now, gorgeous.” I flushed nonstop, and it only got worse as he lovingly patted my butt. “Hey…I don’t own you, Travis.” He winked, putting his hand around my waist as he kissed my forehead, an easy feat for his six foot something frame. “I sure hope not! This is a mutual thing.” The bell rang, giving us a one-minute warning. He chuckled. “Damn. Must have been a thirty second orgasm. Always have been quick, I guess.” He kissed me again, eliciting yet another blush. “I’ll text you, babe.” The word sent a shiver up my spine…and not a good one. It was the feeling that this would maybe last until he came again…or got bored of me. It would be intense and pseudo-romantic…but hardly real. An experiment in his life game. I wouldn’t even last a week. Well, that’s what I had thought. Six months later, I was so head over heels in love with my enormous boyfriend that life seemed covered with a cheesecloth. We’d text all day non-stop, and Facetime every night. Every night he’d steal my heart a little more and show off his magnificent boobs. Hehe yeah, I called them that now. He was a huge fan of bets…he had made one a few weeks into our relationship. If he could go up a cup size in one semester, I’d never call them pecs again. I had gotten cocky and raised it to two cup sizes, thinking he’d never make it and I’d never get used to calling those melons breasts. Well, I was wrong on both counts. I LOVED calling his chest muscles titties, and my boyfriend filled a DD perfectly, if not a little snugly. I’d even convinced him to buy one, and he loved showing off his boobs to me every night, fondling his own bra-clad chest as his cleavage heaved. He told me that he could orgasm just by rubbing his boobs too hard, and I believed him. He said that if he wore too tight a shirt in public, he’d pop a boner if he so much as stretched. I had considered daring him to do it…but I wasn’t that cruel and that was more his gig anyway. He made me a bet one day…toward the end of the semester. I was chatting with him as usual, just dazedly gazing at his tits. We did that sometimes…he would just bounce those fat melons and I’d stare, sometimes for hours on end. He was turned on just as much as I was. By now he could almost get those things to nudge his chin with each pop. He paused, staring lovingly at me as I took him in. “You’d look really good with long hair, baby.” I paused, smiling. “Yeah? You think?” Travis nodded, huge breasts undulating in rhythm. “Yeah. I can picture it down to your cheeks…or even your chin.” I chuckled. “I do hear I’d look decent with a mane.” Travis popped that cocky grin I loved so much. I had a feeling I knew what was coming. “Let’s make a bet.” I raised an eyebrow. “Another? Last one didn’t go so well for you.” He grinned again, bouncing those mammoth boobies heavily. “I think it worked perfectly.” He looked over himself, smirking. “Okay…if you grow your hair all next semester, no cutting it…then I’ll work on my other muscles.” I chuckled. “Other muscles? You mean you haven't been?” He laughed, a booming chuckle that twitched my cock. “Babe, I was way too focused bulking up two cup sizes for you! If I put my full effort into my body…hehe well…you’ll have to see.” I swept my hair off my forehead, feigning indecision. It did get oily quickly when it was longer…but this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. “You got yourself a deal, gorgeous!” “Oh, and…well, I wanna be surprised.” I tilted my head. “How do you mean?” He bit his lip, like it was painful to even say it. “I don’t wanna Facetime.” My jaw must have dropped, because he smiled sheepishly and sighed. “I know, baby, I know. It’s rough. But think how worth it it will be!” I had to agree. I was one of those suckers who loved a sudden change…coming back after a few months and seeing just how different people had become. And with his penchant for growing, I knew Travis wouldn’t disappoint me. “Yeah…all right, then. But you better be HUGE, hon!” He chuckled, heaving his breasts. “You fucking know it, babe. I wanna see you adjusting that hair every few seconds!” I chuckled, winking. “It’s a bet, my big tittied boyfriend.” He bit his lip as his boobs jumped. “Mmf…do that again.” I grinned…yet another of our rituals. “What? Call you out on how fucking ENORMOUS your boobies are?” He moaned gently, palming a fat breast. “How thick and round and heavy your breasts are becoming?” Travis gasped, squeezing more and more. I noticed with glee that neither hand was on his cock. He looked at me, tongue out gently. “Oh my god, I have BREASTS.” I growled happily, stroking myself. “No…you have BOOBS, big boy. And they’re only gonna evolve into HUGE….” He shuddered, huffing as he squeezed. “…FAT…” His eyes rolled as his modest biceps flexed, hands cupping his cantaloupe-sized chest muscles. “TITTIES!!” He moaned loudly, pinching his nipples. Both of us froze as gentle drops of milk dripped from his huge melons…and then he came. Hard. Bellowing like a beast, my beautiful Travis bounced his tits hard as he orgasmed like a bull, pumping seed everywhere. Finally he calmed down, grinning. “Jesus…you see that?” I laughed, smiling myself. “You’re so big you’re lactating…and you can orgasm hands-free…” He licked his lips. “I think I’ll be trying to do that a lot more.” I winked. “I look forward to it.” As his libido subsided, he smiled warmly. “I’m gonna get so fucking huge for you, baby.” “I look forward to it, Travis. Good night.” “Love you.” “Love you more, my busty boy.” He hung up and I promptly spewed my load in barely concealed ecstasy. Wow, life was good. And after a few more months…life got better. I was missing my man. A whole semester without seeing him was tough. Texting was one thing, but I felt like I was lacking. Not seeing his super tits for nearly a half year was taking its toll on me, but I knew it’d be worth it. Besides, I had a surprise of my own for him. What I hadn’t told my boyfriend when we’d made that bet was that my hair grew fast. Like, crazy fast. As in I needed to cut it every month fast. So six months of not getting it cut? Travis probably thought it would be to my cheek…maybe my chin, what with it being just past eye level last time he saw it. Well, it wasn’t at my cheek, or my chin. My hair was long enough to lightly drape on my shoulders nowadays, a veritable blanket of blond locks that flowed and tossed whenever I moved. I was absolutely in love with it, despite all its tedium. I had to condition it every day, keep it clean, and brush it constantly. It was ridiculously soft and fluffy, and it had been hell at first to keep it out of my face. But I was used to it by now, and had no problem with all its swaying and draping across my face and neck. I couldn’t wait to feel it fully resting on my shoulders, and the light pricks and itching of my hair tips tickling my shoulders were a good omen of what was to come. I was eating lunch at the dining hall, wondering why my big boyfriend had been quiet for so long. Usually he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without texting me. He was on the lacrosse, soccer, AND tennis team (see? Total stud and a half), and his practices were usually an hour long. He’d always tell me how even sixty minutes was torture for him, and he’d count down the minutes until we’d chat again. Sometimes we’d pull all-nighters just texting and teasing each other, being without Facetime and all. Some might consider it puppy love or unhealthy, but personally I was willing to run that risk. Travis was my type and then some: sweet yet kinky, protective and possessive yet totally understanding…all of psychology’s red flags rolled into one, complete with a pair of breasts that would make Cardi B raise an eyebrow! But I was currently almost three hours without a text…he’d once gone two and a half for a bus ride for a lacrosse game, but he wasn’t scheduled for a game today. I wasn’t one to get unduly worried or spam messages, but it was a bit odd! Just as I was about to send another text just to check, two hands clamped over my eyes. A deep voice whispered in my ears, my heart hammering as I realized I wasn’t about to be kidnapped. “Guess who?” I sighed, thinking it was one of my prankster friends. But…the hands were too big, the voice too deep even in a whisper. Maybe it was my suite-mate? He was a big dude, but not one for this kind of crap. Pulling forward, I turned in annoyance. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze tilted up…and up…and a little further up. As the face of my dreams broke into a goonish grin, I couldn’t help but let out a squeal as I tackled him in a huge hug. “TRAVIS!!” He hugged me tight, kissing me deeply as a few people turned to look. “Oh my fuck, baby…I missed you so much!” He held me there for what seemed like forever, lips together. Then I realized how tight his arms felt…and how high my feet were off the ground. “Tr-Travis? Did you…grow?” He didn’t respond at first, nuzzling his nose in my long silky hair. “Holy shit…I didn’t believe it at first…thought no way did my honey grow this much hair in only half a year! But you did…and I’m so glad I’m not the only one who went overboard.” I could barely comprehend his words, but his voice sounded deeper somehow…and it felt like iron cords were pressing into my back. “Overboard, Travis?” My voice was barely a squeak I was so excited. He put me down and backed up a few steps, and my vision almost swam. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it when I had turned to greet him, but now here he was…in his full glory. And he was GLORIOUS. He was taller…somehow in six months, he had put on a very visible few inches; where once my head had been just at his lips, now it was barely at his shoulder. I mean, that was a fucking half foot for sure! How had he grown an inch a month!? And even in his loose blue shirt, there was no denying how much muscle my boyfriend had stacked on. He had been relatively well-built before, although maybe more on the leaner side. It had still been buffer than I could ever hope to be, but I suppose it had been a pretty standard size for a sports jock. But once strong shoulders had evolved into immense, broad shelves connected to a thick bull’s neck. They had nearly doubled in width, obviously to house the gargantuan torso he was now sporting. His tits had ballooned even heavier and thicker, but widened to completely fill his shirt on either side. And yet they were still so burgeoning and beefy that they formed deep cleavage that seemed eager to suck in the fabric above it. Nipples that looked more like half-thumbs tented his shirt on each breast, wiggling and bobbing with the slightest movements. But his arms had gotten HUGE! Very snugly filling his sleeves, his gorged biceps formed thick cannons of flesh. A massive, snake-like vein twisted down his arms to branch rather heavily across his forearms and down to his huge, baseball mitt hands. Thick triceps flexed and bunched as he moved, obviously adding to the sheer size of his swollen, beefy arms. Blinking in shock and disbelief, I could only open and close my mouth for a few seconds as Travis grinned cockily down at me. He let his behemoth tits undulate and flex slowly in his shirt, nipples visibly swelling in arousal. “Now there’s the reaction I’ve been dying for.” I suddenly became painfully aware of the pulsing erection in my shorts, the obvious result of seeing my boyfriend’s sudden, enormous growth. And knowing him, he’d probably whip it out in the middle of the dining hall. I didn’t miss the naughty glint in his eyes. “Bathroom, Travis! Not here!” He laughed, and I realized his voice really had dropped a little; it hadn’t been my imagination after all. “I’m not THAT lewd…although watching that hair bounce is getting me horny…” The fleshy banana was beginning to outline against his shorts. Thankfully that behemoth hadn’t seemed to grow any…his lower half in general looked pretty unchanged: toned defined soccer legs with strong calves. Thank god…if he had ballooned all over, I may have had to convince myself the whole thing was a dream. Not that this whole scenario didn’t seem unreal! Motioning, Travis walked off toward the restrooms, nonchalantly adjusting his cock like it was normal. As he moved and I followed, I couldn’t help but flush as I took in his back. Jesus Christ, it was huge. His shoulders had been one thing, but watching his gigantic, extra-wide back shift and tug at his shirt, I found myself having to adjust my own cock as it throbbed even harder with lust. I tilted my head, though, as I took in the rest of his back. From the front, I hadn’t much paid attention to his waist. I had noticed a little lip, but I had assumed it was his eight pack and his v-line becoming even more defined. Yeah, my man had an eight pack. But…he was stocky! That back slimmed down a bit beyond his lats, but there was a slight bulge on either side just before his hips. And they were way too big to be v-line indicators…and those didn’t show up from the back. Did my ripped shredded Travis have love handles? No possible way! He didn’t look chunky at all… My breath was coming in gasps and huffs, my face flushing with arousal, lust, romantic delight, all forms of emotional baggage! As Travis entered the bathroom and locked it behind me, I couldn’t help but squeeze one enormous arm dazedly. Oh, fuck…it was real. All that massive muscle was there in front of me, firm and swollen and delicious. Travis smirked, flexing that divine bicep for me. I almost fainted at the enormous ball of muscle that SURGED to life, huge knot of flesh hardening into a massive sphere under my fingers. Winking slyly, he peeled his shirt off, body coming into view for the first time in almost half a year. Everything was just as magnificent as I’d hoped. Even the loose shirt he had been wearing couldn’t mask the gargantuan torso housed underneath. His pride and joy sat heavily atop his chest, seemingly weighed down by even more tit flesh. His nipples had visibly swollen, fleshy fat nubs bobbing with his breaths. But the best part was what lay beneath his mammoth boobs. His once-proud eight pack had indeed vanished. I could barely make out the outline of his first two abs, but the rest had been transformed into a big, fleshy paunch of meat. He really did have love handles, twin swells of fatty muscle that burgeoned from his hips to meet with his new chunky belly. No wonder he looked so huge and heavy everywhere else, he’d bulked HARD! My brain locked…the only thing that I could think to say bubbled up from deep in my subconscious, spurned on by the monster of beef and brawn in front of me. “Daddy…” Ah, Freud would be proud. Travis paused for a bit, grin splitting his face. “Ooh, I like the sound of that!” At my stunned silence, he bounced his tits before slowly guiding his hand under his new tummy swell. Giving it a hefty jiggle, he grinned even wider as I watched that new bulk wobble and ripple like a bowl of Jello. “Figured I’d dirty bulk to help things along…and I guess I let it get a bit out of hand! But it feels amazing, baby, you have no idea.” I gently reached out a hand, feeling my fingers sink into that soft pudge. It was maybe two or three inches of sink before that undeniably firm base, but it was still two or three inches of alpha beef that was brand new…and seriously hot. My hands traveled up to rub the ferocious underswell of his colossal super tits. Biting his lip, Travis moaned teasingly. “They’ve gotten SO sensitive lately. I blame all the milk I’m storing in there daily.” My face got even redder, my breath coming hotter and heavier. He hadn’t mentioned that! In fact, I’d forgotten a bit after that one cam session. “M-milk?” “Thought I’d surprise you even more with that! Yeah…guess all those feminine hormones helped get some more weight on the tits! Made my bulk softer too…good thing, ‘cuz I hate those gross ball guts.” I could only nob absentmindedly, eying those huge gorged nipples. No wonder they were so big…he was probably pumping them! And his boobs most certainly WERE bigger than before…added muscle and a generous layer of thickness from his beefy bulk had turned them into impossibly wide, enormously thick ultra boobs that were only so perky and supple because of the ungodly amounts of muscle in his chest and back. Travis sighed happily, running his hand through my hair. I was once again reminded of how tall he’d gotten. “Holy fuck, I missed my perfect worshipper boyfriend. Been itching to give you a taste of the nice creamy dairy your moo cow stud is holding these days.” Those words, combined with the spectacle that was my behemoth of a man almost brought me to orgasm then and there. But thankfully, I regained a little of my composure. As I gazed up at him, I couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning up and up. “Is it gonna make me grow too?” Travis smirked with that beautiful cocky smile I loved, kissing me deeply. “I sure hope so. Wanna bloat that ass up so I can give it a smack.” I flushed happily. Over the course of our relationship, we’d both realized that sex didn’t really hold much interest for either of us. Blowjobs and anal weren’t really on our radar, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t appreciate the assets the other was packing. How this mountainous god of a boy found any assets on me, I’ll never know. But he was quite literally bulging with them himself. “Mmmmm Big Travis gonna give his twink a bubble butt?” He shivered a bit at the name, pushing his enormous body into my slim one. “Yeah he is. And my beautiful boy is gonna give me some even thicker, heavier, milkier boobies.” I couldn’t hold it anymore. I buried my face in his cleavage. Travis moaned happily, wrapping his giant arms around my face and smothering me in his deep tit crevice. He held me there until I tapped out, panting hungrily as I tweaked his plump nipples. “You really lactate now?” Travis nodded, smirking. “I mean…only a few drops, but I can still milk myself!” I chuckled. Of course he couldn’t shoot rivers of milk! He wasn’t a girl, plus he wasn’t mutating. He was still human, and still a guy. But even a few drops was proof of how monstrously boob-tastic my boyfriend was. “That’s so amazing, Travis.” I looked up, kissing him deeply as he ran his hands through my hair. “You look so good, baby boy.” I flushed at the name. He was even cockier, a sort of permanent smirk etched into his features and a definite swagger to his posture. It did give me a thought, though. “Travis? I totally get how long we’ve been apart…have you…been with anyone else?” His answer was immediate and fierce, before I could even stammer out my insecurities. “FUCK no!” He paused, sighing as he ran his hands through my hair, looking into my eyes. “Sorry. Hope that didn’t sound defensive. Trust me, people have wanted to get with me. Like, a lot of people. But none of them were you. I wasn’t even tempted. I just wanted to grow and grow and grow for you, and you alone.” I could see that he wasn’t lying. I almost teared up, but held myself together. I kissed him deeply before pulling back. “Holy shit, you really are the perfect boy.” And just like that, his swagger came back. And somehow he seemed even more massive than a few minutes ago, frame looming over mine. “You’re just figuring this out now?” He chuckled deeply, grinding into me with the force of a freight train. I moaned gently, clutching his huge back as I tried desperately not to orgasm. “Ah…T-Travis…” He paused, humping in long slow pumps. “Hey, uh…how much do you like me?” I chuckled, knowing exactly what was coming. “Mmmm dunno, Travis…depends on how much you’re wagering in this bet!” He laughed, a deep booming baritone. “You got me all wrong, babe! No bets this time…just a request.” He actually pushed me into the wall, hefting my legs up into his arms as he kept humping. I was over the moon. He leaned in, breath hot in my ears. “I think I’ve done enough for you to start giving me some pet names. I give you plenty!” “O-oh! I do love those, and I would have earlier! I…I just thought they were too mushy for you.” Travis smirked, pushing me harder into the wall as he got a bit more forceful. “I’m a sweetheart, baby, you know that! And I’m not talking about mushy names…” He paused, licking my lips slowly. “…I’m talking about some names to make me feel big.” I bucked wildly, gasping. “Wh-what? Teasing your massive swollen boobies isn’t enough?” He shuddered, bucking with me. Our erections were rock hard, oozing pre. We were both so close. “Just imagine how much inspiration you’d give if you called me some…more beefy names.” “Or it would go right to that swelled head and you’d stop growing!” He grinned, lowering me a bit so that his tits pushed into mine. “Never stop growing. And come on, you love this ego as much as I do.” I smiled, breath coming hot and heavy. “You know? I sure do, Titan.” He moaned loudly, pulling me back so that he was lifting me off the ground with no problems. “Fuck, just like that.” “Jesus…you’re so fucking STRONG, Big Alpha Travis!” He got a wicked glint in his eyes, holding me tight. “I like that name you mentioned earlier…what was it again?” I bit my lip, heart hammering. “Wh-what…? Daddy?” He bellowed in delight, slamming me against the wall as he came, humping into me as his cock fired. I couldn’t help but release with him, shooting my own load in ecstasy. As we gasped and groaned, bodies smashing together, he slowly let me down. As we panted for air, he ran a finger through my long blond hair. “You see? This is why no one even fucking holds a candle to you! But now I wanna make a bet.” I rolled my eyes, orgasm doing nothing to ease my excitement. Travis’ increased size was just so new and delicious! “There it is.” He smirked. “You’re a fan of the tummy, yeah?” I growled playfully, poking the inch or two of wonderful pudge sticking from his lower abs. “It’s fucking amazing!” “Thought so! All right…if you call me Daddy, I’ll gain thirty pounds by the end of the semester.” At my expression, he held up two baseball mitt-sized hands. “In private, in private! Not in public, obviously.” My heart started hammering, desires clear in my head. With post-orgasm clarity settling in, I found that…I had no problems with it. On the contrary…I liked it. But I wasn’t letting him take all the credit! “Ah, ah! My turn…IF you gain thirty pounds, THEN I’ll call you Daddy.” He grinned, chuckling. “You are such a vixen, babe! I like it, though. You got yourself a bet!” We sealed it with a kiss, same as always. “Now…I’m actually skipping class and practice for you, so I’m afraid I can’t stay over.” My heart sank. I really wanted to cuddle with that new weight! “Oh…okay! The fact that you came all the way is still amazing!” He nodded eagerly. “Yeah…plus, I got a new challenge! You’ll keep growing out your hair?” I nodded, tossing it playfully. “Imagine how long it’s gonna be.” He growled happily. “With how much it’s grown over this six months, I’m chomping at the bit. I’ll keep growing bigger, and you keep growing prettier.” I smiled at him. “I’ll do my squats every day.” He swatted my ass gently. “Really are gonna grow your Big Travis a bubble butt!” I laughed, nuzzling into him. “Talking in the third person? Your head’s gonna pop if that ego gets much bigger!” He smiled. “You know you love it.” I ran my hands over his arms, marveling at how much his tits still pushed me away from him. Boy had foot-long boobies! Okay, maybe not THAT much, but they sure looked and felt like it! “I do love it, Titan. I love you more.” He kissed the top of my head with minimal difficulty. “Love you too, baby boy.” A little over half a year later, I was eagerly waiting at our favorite diner. I’d left college today, and had promised to drive right here to meet him. I was desperately hoping he’d kept his end of the bet…because I was eagerly wishing to fulfill mine. Our daily talks just turned me on more and more, and I was quickly growing to adore his dominant, domineering nature (although I’d never let him know it). Freud would love me, but calling him that particular name would really fit our relationship. His pet names were becoming gradually more feminine, and he was encouraging me to embrace my less masculine desires. With my body slowly changing to his wishes, I figured a little mental push wouldn’t hurt either. I guess my genetics were just as geared toward growing as Travis’ were, because I’d gone up three waist sizes in just six months. But unlike Travis, my belly hadn’t gotten any bigger. No, those extra inches went right to my hips and ass. The squats really had done the trick, my butt swollen into a huge meaty bubble. It was muscular enough to be round, but somehow soft enough to jiggle a bit when I walked. My hips had thickened a fair bit too, legs nearly touching with the added mass on them. My lower half was monstrously disproportionate now…I just figured it would match my boyfriend’s immense upper half. True to my word, I had kept my hair growing. It had gotten really annoying, so I was tying it up in a loose ponytail these days. But because I was meeting my busty boy today, I had it untied. Long silky locks flowed and shifted just below my collarbone, pulled out of my eyes by my hair tie. I have no idea how it grew so fast, but I wasn’t complaining at all. I’d been working my core, and I was boasting a modest skinny-pack, exposed by my new style. While nerve-wracking at first, I’d slowly become used to and excited to wear some gayer clothes. In the winter, I had rocked some skinny jeans and jean jackets. Nowadays, I loved wearing my crop tops and even my booty shorts to show off my ass. Which you better believe I was wearing today. I had to make the best impression! I had my back to the wall, determined not to be taken by surprise like last time. And then Travis’ truck pulled into the lot. My heart began to hammer, and I mean hammer. My imagination was going wild, if my boyfriend’s legacy of growth was any indicator. He pulled into a spot…and waited. I had to smirk. That cocky tease! Finally, when I thought I was going to have to open the door myself, he got out. I…I couldn’t. I just absolutely could NOT. How…the FUCK…did he keep growing?! He was taller, no doubt in my mind. I wasn’t sure if I’d be even with his chest at this point! I mean, I was short, but he had to be nearly six and a half feet. And he had to be nearly half that wide! Shoulders were wider and broader, arms were even more gargantuan, behemoth biceps swollen and tensed alongside burgeoning triceps. To be honest, his stomach hadn’t put on as much as I thought. But it was beyond noticeable now, where before it had just been a subtle bulge. All those thirty pounds seemed to have gone right to his ass and boobs, though. His monstrous bubble of an ass had gotten even bigger than mine, damn him! His legs were huge and defined when he moved, but thick and meaty at the same time. And his TITS! They were even wider, thicker, and starting to slope with all the weight piling on. He had to be wearing a triple-XL shirt, and yet there was no denying how puffy and mountainous his nipples had gotten, the perfect capstones to those bra-busting mega breasts! He looked more mature, too, jawline filled out and his hair a touch longer. He stopped as he saw me, shaking his head in disbelief as he lumbered up to me. I couldn’t help but grin as he took up more and more of my vision, loose white shirt doing nothing to hide the godlike bulges heaving all over his body. We just stared at each other for a good minute, disbelievingly checking the other out. Finally he broke the silence. “You never said I had to stop at thirty pounds…so I put on another fifteen. Hope that’s okay.” I shook my head before sighing. “I think…I think I need to feed my Daddy before he gets skinny again!” Travis moaned happily, burying me in a deep kiss as he ran his hand down my waterfall of hair. “HOW did this get so long?” I grabbed his boobs, squeezing hard. “HOW did these get so big?” He smacked my ass, rather forcefully too. “And how did this get so enormous?” I did the same, although I barely made a dent in his. “Ditto!” He huffed loudly, glancing over his shoulder. “Do we have to make our reservation? I just want to take you to my truck and have my way with you right now.” I bit my lip, pressing my hand into his belly. Oh, it was even softer! And there was definitely more than before…I guess his boobs were just so big now that his tummy looked the same size. “God, it’s tempting. But I do really want to see just how much you can eat now.” He slipped his huge hand around my waist, guiding me into the restaurant. “A fuck ton, believe me. We’re gonna be here a while.” I grinned. “Just more time for me to admire my Daddy’s new body. How much do you weigh?!” He chuckled, smacking his ample belly fat. “Tipping the scales at just over 270. I’m hoping to break 300 by the summer’s end!” I shook my head in wonder. “At your rate, you may break it by summer’s start!” He shrugged those colossal shoulders. “Wouldn’t be surprised. I’m gaining super fast now that I don’t cut at the ends of bulks.” I growled playfully as we entered the place, digging my hand into his bloated chest. “And probably just eat anything that crosses your path, big boy!” He squeezed my ass in full view of the waitress at the desk, making her flush a bit as she took us in. “That’s big DADDY to you, little man!” I flushed as hard as the poor girl that lead us to our table, hissing through my teeth. “Not in public, Travis! Jesus Christ!” He chuckled, popping his gorged tits through his shirt. “People get us confused, actually. But come on…you’re dressing and looking like a slut, why not act like one?” I blushed even deeper as we sat. “Because I don’t have your ego to boost my confidence…or your size.” He chuckled, grunting as he squeezed next to me. His boobs were very nearly resting on the table, belly gently pushed into the counter as his ass pushed him forward in his seat. “I wouldn’t say that! Your ass got enormous, baby boy! Fuck, this is a little tight.” I nodded breathlessly. “Gonna start needing bar seats if you keep growing.” He winked at me. “You know damn well I’m going to! I’m fucking pissed you go away for the summer, though. You really have to go to that camp?” “Yes, Titan. I’m the archery director. They’d be lost without me! Besides, we have a month and a half all to ourselves! Plus, it’s two whole months for us to bulk up for the other.” “Fine, but we’re Facetiming this time around. I wanna see my gorgeous boyfriend…and I’m sure he wants to see his Daddy keep expanding.” I giggled gently. “I really do. You’re too big to keep me in the dark.” He leaned his full weight into me, encouraging his soft squishy love handle into my hand. “Baby, I’m too big to fit into some doorways.” “Going to have to fix that, for sure! We can’t have you fitting in any, can we?” He smirked cockily as our drinks arrived. “No, we can’t!” The waitress eyed us both a little hesitantly, as if convincing herself that such a behemoth mountain of a man could really be with a twink like me. “Any appetizers, guys?” Travis grinned, and I knew this was the start of something wonderful. “Now that you mention it…” Now, I like boys with appetites. The bigger, the better. And it stands to reason that bigger boys have bigger appetites, so I knew Travis was going to be eating a lot. But…nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed. I finished my meal in about thirty minutes; I’m a slow eater! Travis was not a slow eater, but he still finished in about ninety minutes. I watched six appetizers, four entrees, fourteen glasses of milk, five slices of cake, and three extra-large milkshakes vanish down my monster’s gullet. I could barely house my rock-hard erection under the table! Finally he finished his last shake, patting his domed belly. “Now normally I’d let loose with a massive burp, but we’re in public and I figure you don’t want to be embarrassed.” “Tr-Travis, you ate practically half the restaurant. How do you afford to eat like this? I-I don’t think I can pay for what you just devoured!” He smirked, leaning back and slinging a giant arm around my shoulder. “Well, I’m usually at college, and they’re all you can eat. And uh…I never told you this, but I’m fucking loaded. I don’t need to worry about cost.” Before I could respond, he ran his hands through my hair. “And I didn’t want to overstep my bounds so early in the relationship…but I think we’re in deep enough now. I don’t want you to worry about the cost of anything ever again. I want you to uh…well, rely on me for money.” I gulped. That was risky…like, beyond risky. And controlling…as much as I loved his dominance, this was next level. “Travis…I-I love you, but I’m not willing to give you my finances.” He leaned back a bit, eyes wide. “Oh god! No no, nothing like that! I don’t want a dime from you! That would be too much power. I just mean like…let me pay for you. I’ll buy you stuff if you want, and you can do whatever you want with your own money! I just wanna spoil my baby boy.” I blushed, a bit ashamed at having misinterpreted. I mean, it was still a little red-flaggy, but we’d crossed that line long ago, hadn’t we? And who didn’t love a boy who wanted to pay for you? “Then it’s a deal…” I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “…Daddy.” He bit his lip, chuckling. “Sugar Daddy now, I guess.” I rolled my eyes. “You just want more titles with that word in it, don’t you?” He nodded, grinning as the waitress brought the bill. And let me tell you…it’s exciting to have a boy with money. No worries about providing for him, and if he’s generous it’s just a bonus for you! This gorgeous beefy hunk of a boyfriend shelled out more than one hundred dollars without batting an eye, sighing happily. “That’s better. In lieu of sounding sexist, it’s fitting that the big man pays for his lady.” I flushed, tying my hair up. “I ain’t a lady. Check downstairs…I only have long hair!” He grinned, lumbering out of the booth. Oh sweet fuck, he looked bigger. “And an ass you could eat off, and a lovely new teen girl style of dressing up! But that’s good…I like my princess feminine.” My heart spasmed, cock twitching. “Wh-what did you call me?” He shrugged, sheepishly grinning. “Princess! My tiny little princess…and her big fat Daddy.” I patted his belly, enjoying the pumped stomach under the layer of cushion. “You’re not fat…not yet.” He growled, hand lingering on my ass. “Is that a challenge?” I chuckled, walking with him out of the restaurant. “It might be. I like Daddy with some chunk on him.” He patted his thick belly, smiling. “It feels amazing. Just getting out of the shower in the morning gets me stiff. Never been anything other than shredded, so this is really hot. I can feel myself jiggling more every day.” He opened the door to his truck. Before I could make a rendezvous, he pulled me inside, throwing me on the seat as he lowered his enormous weight onto me, humping eagerly. “I’ve been SO fucking horny for you…you and your new title. The second I hit 220 I couldn’t stop fantasizing about you calling me…mmf…do it for me.” I gasped, cock hard in seconds as all 270 beefy pounds mashed into me. “D-Daddy…Oh, Big Daddy…my Big, Beefy, Bulging, Behemoth Daddy!” He moaned loudly, humping harder. “That’s my name from now on, got it?” I nodded, biting my lip submissively. “Yes, Daddy. Whatever my perfect alpha Daddy wants.” He growled hungrily, biting my hair gently. “Mm I do kind of like you being all submissive…but I did fall in love with that sassy, sweet personality. Although…it’s not bad in the bedroom. I do carry all the weight, literally.” I nodded, huffing. “I’m so horny, Daddy. Been dreaming of calling you that for months now.” He raised an eyebrow, kissing me sweetly. “Well, the deal was for thirty pounds. I gained forty-five. So…maybe I need a little more.” “Mmmm you got it, Big Daddy. My Big Daddy deserves every inch of worship he gets…getting so big and bulky and beautiful for me.” Travis pursed his lips, shrugging. “Naw, maybe not then. You’re sounding like a slave, haha! I wanna pamper you, not own you.” I smacked his monstrous breast gently. “This is new territory and you know it! I have no idea what’s cute, what’s hot, or what’s going to get domestic hotline on our asses.” Travis laughed, kissing me long and slow. “Just do what comes naturally. Remember how I always used to cheat off you in AP Bio? You’re a fast learner and a smart cookie.” I grinned. “You sweet talker, you. I have the best Daddy in the world.” He pursed his lips as I twitched my lip. “Yeah, I heard it that time. Freud’s ghost just got a little stronger.” He raised an eyebrow. “You want to stop?” I shook my head, grinning. “Hell no, Big Daddy Travis!” He buried his lips into mine, my hands tangled in his hair, and we made out hard. Pulling back for air, I grabbed his tits to elicit a sharp moan. “Take that shirt off, Daddy. I wanna see all that added beef!” He stripped slowly for me, allowing me to see all the new muscle he’d stacked onto his arms and pecs, as well as the lovely extra chub he’d loaded up on. He really had gotten pudgier, but all that extra breast meat offset the aesthetic. Still, it just told me his pride and joy was still liable to expand. “Your nipples are fucking HUGE, Daddy! You been milking?” Travis nodded. “They’re taking really well to the pec exercises I do! I still can’t milk like a cow, but I’m glad they’re naturally puffy instead of that gross pumped look.” I massaged one half-dollar sized areola gently, causing Travis to buck gently. “And they keep getting more sensitive. I wore a skintight athletic shirt once, just for shits and giggles. I literally orgasmed after only five minutes. Gotta wear loose shirts or else I have accidents.” I chuckled, rubbing his supple nubs. “Same old, same old! Maybe you ought to go shirtless, then.” Travis chuckled. “Believe me, it’s tempting. Once it gets warm enough, I’ll be letting the gains show every waking moment! I’m finally proud of my gut.” I gave it a rub, squeezing the ample chub stacked on top of his food-stuffed belly. “Trying to gain more?” Travis shrugged. “If I can! I’m not for it or against it, really. I hate those gross ball guts, but as long as I’m gaining pudge I’m happy! Can’t resist the powerful wobble when I walk.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck as I nuzzled into him. “Neither can I. Daddy looks amazing with some meat on his bones.” Travis smirked, grinding his crotch into mine. “Do I, princess?” I flushed again. “Tra…Titan, please. I’m not that feminine.” Travis smiled gently, pushing my hair off my forehead. “No, you’re not. You’re just my type. You’re everything I ever wanted and more.” I smiled weakly. “You’re just saying that so I’ll squeeze your boobs.” He chuckled. “That too. Hey uh…you still having issues with your family?” I frowned a bit. I hated talking about that, even to him. “Yeah. It’s a lot worse…I don’t really want to go into it.” Travis nodded. “I get it, for sure. But uh…listen. You have all your stuff with you, and knowing you, you haven’t told your parents a thing. So why not…come live with me?” I paused, lust forgotten entirely. Oh, that would be heaven. But I couldn’t… “Titan, I couldn’t! It would be such an imposition. I know your parents like me, but there’s no way I could ever…” He grinned. “That’s just it! I have my own place!” I shook my head. “What? Travis, you’re barely out of your freshman year in college and you have your own place?” Travis nodded, grinning even wider. “Name’s Daddy, cutey. And that’s absolutely right. Parents are trying to let me experience the real world, but I made it big with a sweet job, so I’m living pretty! Would be no problem to take you in. Was hoping to surprise you with it…and I guess I did!” I was silent for a while; this was a lot to process! Could I really do that? It was way too big a step in the relationship, but it made perfect sense if we weren’t dating. There were pretty much no downsides…if my stupid parents suffered, that was just a bonus for me. Let them stress…although I knew they wouldn’t. Finally, I let my gaze drift back to my bull boyfriend’s gaze. God, he had such wonderful eyes. And he meant every word he’d ever said to me, I could see that. He loved me. “I uh…I guess you got yourself a roommate…Daddy.” He smiled ear to ear, kissing me deeply. “Oh baby, you won’t regret this! I’m gonna take such good care of you, I promise! You’re gonna be the happiest boy on the fucking planet!” I nuzzled into him, content to just relax in his giant embrace, have him hold me close. “I know you will, Big Daddy.” To make a long story short, I still am the happiest boy on the planet. I went to camp, Daddy grew even more, and we started living together! It’s incredible how persuasive he can be…in only two months, he really opened me up. A nudge or two every so often from him, and I was begging him to call me his princess. He loved doing it, and I love it when he spoils me. And oh, does Daddy spoil me. New clothes, all the food I want, jewelry and expenses and everything! I wonder how Daddy manages it when he eats enough for three men every meal! We both went back to college, but only I graduated. Daddy dropped out to take a position in California! I moved with him, happy to be away from my awful family. We (and be we, I don’t mean me) started making huge sums of money, and upgraded a few times until we were very comfortable living in pleasure. Shortly after I graduated, Daddy and I decided to make it official. He proposed to me, and we got married in private to live happily ever after!! We’re still living together, and I love every inch of my Daddy. To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to remember what his real name is! To me, he always has been and always will be my Big Daddy, Travis! And I’m happy to be his princess~ and I finally look the part, too. I get my hair cut so that it’s just lower than my shoulders; that’s the length Daddy likes it. He convinced me to grow my nails out a bit, and talk with a gay whine in my voice. Well…after doing it so much, it kind of stuck. So now I really sound like a total gay boy, but I think Daddy was aiming for that all along. I dress like a slut every day, and my ass is even bigger just in case Daddy ever wants to give my back door a test drive. I bulked up a bit too, thanks to Daddy’s constant pampering, so I’m definitely in the twunk category now, almost bridging into the hunk label! I like to think I resemble Daddy at the end of high school, but even if I do, the current deal is just so much better anyway. Daddy stopped growing at six foot nine, and finally let himself bottom out at just over 360 pounds. He’s so incredibly handsome, matured and aged like a fine wine. Despite his bulk, he’s ridiculously muscular, with no weight to pad up any of the huge bulges spread over his arms, shoulders, or legs. But despite that, his belly is just as soft and blubbery as he likes. Daddy never drinks beer or carb loads, in fear of growing that muscle belly he so despises. He almost resembles one of those Arnold Strongman challengers, except he’s so much better looking…and a lot more shredded, if you can believe that. He also refuses to ever compete in something like that…he’s afraid he’ll hurt himself. Please…it would take a team of elephants to hurt my Big Titan husband. And thank god he didn’t: he’d probably end up shaving his head, growing a beard, and tattooing himself up. Thankfully, we hate all three. Daddy’s also naturally smooth, so I never have to worry about any gross body hairs getting in the way of that perfect, beautiful beef. And the thing that started it all…those incredible, wonderful, monstrous super Daddy boobs…are the stuff of legend. They actually do stick out eleven inches from his body (we measured) now, the perfect mix of healthy muscle and wobbly fat. You can see them from behind, even past his enormously wide back! They bounce when he walks, and when he flexes them they smash into his chin. His nipples are the size of D-batteries, and his areola are almost dinner-plate sized, swelling off the bottoms of his tits in mountainous swells of flesh. We never did get him to lactate as much as he wanted, but every day brings something new! His clothes are just too ridiculous, so Daddy walks around naked for convenience sake. It’s almost made some messy scenes, but thankfully I’m usually dressed so that I can divert attention. Any kind of shirts make Daddy erect and orgasm in just about a minute if he moves enough, but he’s so cocky now he loves the challenge. I usually end up cleaning his sticky, massive underwear and pants two or three times a day. But despite his enormous, insatiable size and ego, he’s still my Travis. I love my Daddy more than he knows, and I know the same applies to him. He’d do anything for me, and he does every day. I have no doubts we’ll never even get into a fight…we’re too sick and twisted to be normal. Our relationship is probably ridiculously unhealthy, but we couldn’t care less. We’re happy, and that’s all that matters, right? Mm, Big Daddy’s calling me now! I better go see what my humongous husband wants, before he teaches his little princess a lesson!
    6 points
  13. Of course it's Noah! I'm not sure if AJ would publicly come out - but obviously a few people must know for Adam to have heard the rumour. I'm going to aim to post chapter 10 mid-week. It's quite a big one!
    6 points
  14. 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
    6 points
  15. 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.”
    6 points
  16. Author's Note - I will add the Google Doc link to this section when I post the second half in a few days. This section is 41 pages long. So, for easy of reading, I split it into two pieces. So... the preview I posted is still yet to come Chapter 10 - The Titan on Olympus - Part 3e - Coeus Emerges “You had to have it all / Well have you had enough? / You greedy little bastard / You will get what you deserve / When all is said and done / I will be the one / To leave you in your misery / And hate what you've become” ~ Breaking Benjamin, Had Enough Immediately following Chapter 10.3d…. Predator/Gabriel then got a sinister gleam in his eye, “John, would you mind showing the Runt what he has to look forward to if he is a good judge when comparing us...” John got a devilish, Predator smile on his face as he started to struggle with his sleeve to pull it up, but not to tear it when he flexed. Predator/Gabriel poked his finger hard at the bony flat biceps as he said into Clawson’s face: “The first little introductory comparison in judging our little contest.” “Runt’s arm…” Less than a foot from Clawson's open mouth, Gabriel held up his right arm and flexed a large, navel orange sized ball that was on its way to transforming into something closer to a softball lept into existence. He pointed to the rock hard sphere of perfection and said: “Man’s arm...” He then grabbed the back of Clawson’s head and forced him to look at John. As he held Clawson fast in his grip, John flexed his literal cannon into life. Predator/Gabriel whispered in the nothing’s ear: “God’s arm…” Clawson tried to inhale a gasp, but he was in such shock that no sound even came out. Game on... The Runt fell backwards into the seat. Indeed without the chair to catch him, he went so limp that he would have collapsed onto the ground. Predator/Gabriel laughed hard as he felt the tiny head between his hands begin to shake. He let go of his grip, and despite his total lack of muscle power, the Runt’s head and eyes were frozen on the mountain, totally mesmerized by the sight of John as he began to slowly pump his biceps back and forth, the giant brown eyes boring a hole in the tiny brain. Seeing this reaction, Predator/Gabriel decided to twist the screws in Clawson faster and harder than he had originally intended. He slowly put a hand at the center of the Runt’s back and guided him to stand up. Clawson offered no resistance to Predator/Gabriel at all; As Gabirel maneuvered him across the floor, it was as if his brain were on auto-pilot… while both the pilot and co-pilot were out of the cockpit out to lunch. As Predator/Gabriel was walking the pair toward John very slowly, John became curious. He began to intently listen to Predator/Gabriel as he was softly talking into the Runt’s ear, twisting the weak little mind that was now squarely in John and Gabriel’s hands. John marveled at how his man had such an instinct for this. It was so different to what he would do in the same situation. But in some ways, it was even more degrading. That voice, those words - the temptation was insidious. Even the timing of the footsteps forward, reinforced what he was whispering in that ear. “You know how BIG that is, Runt?” *step* “I sure do…” *step* “See, I get to measure that monster,” *step* “I get to measure every other muscle on that giant body too. *step* “Every single week.” *step* “But, you know what” *step* “I SLEEP next to him every night.” *step* “FEEL that muscle whenever I want.” *step* “So HARD. So BIG.” *step* “I am bigger than you imagined possible” *step* “Stronger than you can comprehend” *step* “So STRONG that I can make you walk right now wherever I want.” *step* “Imagine how STRONG that muscle alone is.” One last *step* and Predator/Gabriel had them both standing in the growing shadow of John, GROWING as he pulled back from Braden and stood looming over them both. “You want to know how BIG that is? You wanna know more than anything, right Runt? Well, let me give you an idea. Just a small idea of who you tried to take advantage of. What size pants do you wear Runt?” The Runt tried to answer, but when his mouth opened all that escaped was a whisper so soft it was barely distinguishable from a gurgle of shock. Predator/Gabriel gave a knowing but disgusted laugh. “Huh, figures. When faced with an actual MAN, you can’t even talk. No wonder you have to stage this prefabricated nonsense. It's the only way you can utter a word. Just another reason you are not a MAN. So, I guess a MAN is going to have to do the work for you again.” Gabriel pulled back the trousers slightly and pulled up a tag from the inside rear belt lining. “John, this says a twenty-eight inch waist and a twenty-eight inch inseam. I am guessing that is a little generous with how scrawny you are; but, let’s take it. That would appear to be the only way that you and I are even close to the same league Runt. My waist is 29 and a half inches. An inch different, but worlds away. And this… this is the difference between a flea and a god. Predator/Gabriel looked up. “John, flex your forearm and hold it up next to this pathetic sack.” John got a BROAD smile. He KNEW what he was about to see. John dropped to one knee and extended his left arm down. He cocked his wrist in and flexed. A forearm that looked like an entire bowling lane’s worth of bowling pins exploded into life. Veins as thick as the Runt’s fingers extended toward the wrist. Thick and thin, those veins wrapped and snaked around a writhing mass so big that single bands of the individual flexor and extensor muscle, the individual pieces of the brachialis and brachioradialis, were as thick as the Runt’s wrist. John planted his cocked fist onto the ground and flexed harder with the mild resistance of the floor to push against. Predator/Gabriel brought the Runt and stood him next to it. The picture was worth more than any amount of words could say. “Look at that sad sight, Runt. That is a MAN’s FOREARM and it is bigger than your waist. Fucking hell, it is almost as big as your sunken-in chest. Look at it little shit. How can you be a man or even a boy when a normal infant’s waist is bigger than a man’s forearm. BUT, YOU. ARE. NOT. ” It was true. Every single word Predator/Gabriel said was true. John’s 30.5 inch forearm was actually LARGER around than Clawson’s waist. If he had forced his forearm down an empty pair of the Runt’s trousers, he would have popped the waist stitching and destroyed the seams. John’s wrist alone was bigger than the runt’s calves, his whole arm longer than the Runt’s entire length of leg… and both by an easily distinguishable amount. His arm and fist would have blown those tiny pants apart. A deep, low, “Holy Fuck” escaped Braden’s mouth as the full monumental size of the man who had been holding him truly set in. He could not help but reach out and touch the closest part of John he could, the huge right outer quad John was kneeling on. He felt nothing but warm, hard titanium, even though John’s quad was unflexed. John responded by gilding the now kneeling Braden around with his right hand until he was within range of the flexed mammoth forearm. He took Braden’s much smaller hand and began to give him a slow, guided, wordless tour of twisted cords of muscle and veins - all in front of the Runt’s eyes. Seeing Braden touching that forearm seemed to do something to the Runt. All of a sudden, he shook violently and another of those high-pitched, gasping, girlish-screams came from him. Almost immediately as the screaming noise began to still, John began to laugh - a deep, nearly-uncontrollable guffaw. Predator/Gabriel could hear the laugh of John’s Predator, and heard the lilt of his deep voice explode, “Oh FUCK, GABRIEL.” John’s Predator was almost convulsing with laughter as he actually had to take a breath before he could go on between the laughs. “The tiny fuck just came in his pants. It had to be a huge load for him, but it is so fucking pitiful, you can’t see it. But I can fucking smell it. Holy Shit. Just seeing me made him fucking shoot. Nobody has ever done that before. Not even that fucking waste of space before. What a pathetic little bitch this is...” At that moment, despite John’s Predator’s laughter, seeing all the muscles so tantalizingly close to him, seeing Braden feeling it, seeing John not only allowing it but guiding it, encouraging it… The Runt tried to reach out to touch. BUT-- Predator/Gabriel’s reaction to the movement of the Runt’s hand was almost at the speed of John’s reflexes. Predator/Gabriel grabbed the back of the loose tank top in one hand and the waistband of his pants in the other and ripped the Runt away from John. He dragged the Runt’s body away, meter after meter, until Predator/Gabriel planted him back in the chair he started out in. Predator/Gabriel put his huge arms on either of the chair’s arm rests and leaned in so far his nose was almost touching the Runt’s. The voice that came from Gabriel’s mouth was ice-chillingly cold, despite the words he was using and the power of them. The clinically detached lack of emotion made them almost frighteningly chilling. “You were about to break the first rule, Runt. AL-FUCKING-READY. You goddamned disgust me. “Did I tell you to TOUCH? NO. Did John tell you to TOUCH? NO. I told you to LOOK. So LOOK Look right fucking now.” Predator/Gabriel forced the Runt to look over to where John had again sat down, with Braden back in position between his legs leaning against his abs. Both were watching what was happening while at the same time John continued to guide Braden on his tour of John’s body. “Look at Braden there. He is a MAN. He is right next to raw power, FEELING that power with his own hands. Enjoying it, but respectful. In control of himself. He isn’t cumming like some cheap whore. But you? You shot that pitiful load just seeing John. You’re worse than any teenage boy suffering from premature ejaculation. At least he is still a boy and hasn’t been exposed to a body before.” Then a predatory cold smile akin to a great white shark came across Predator/Gabriel’s lips. “Given that reaction to just looking, you might have a full on myocardial infarct and die if you actually touch him.” The emotionless tone took on a hint of something John could swear was a tiny hint of glee, “Looks like, for your own safety, it is gonna have to be a VISUAL search only of John. Can’t have you fucking orgasming to death… or can we...” His eyes bore into the Runt’s as it was clear he had a malicious idea, “I’m going to take care of some MAN things. Don’t move a single centimeter from that spot until I get back. Got me Runt?” Instantly, Clawson seemed to freeze in place, while his head slowly bobbed up and down, “Yes Sir.” Predator/Gabriel snickered under his breath as he turned around and started walking to where John and Braden were sitting. It was hilarious and exhilarating to have Clawson’s body unconsciously obey him like that. Having someone as nasty as Clawson was under his control, and coming even more under control by the second… The Gabriel part of him sounded a warning to the Predator part. As fun as this was and was yet to be correcting this being’s behavior and place in life, he had to be careful. John got carried away by this once and it cost him… a lot. It cost him so much that he was only now beginning to really recover from the loss of his job and find a new self. To protect John, to protect their secret, to do what he must after they return from their honeymoon, to fulfil his promise to John to never let there be another, HE MUST not endanger his job. The Predator part of him understood - he was going to warp this insect, but he could not crush him. John had taught him how to stay in control, and above all things in the universe, every part of Gabriel was devoted to loving and honoring John. He had the will. He would not do what was so tempting to do and would be so easy for him… he had given his word to John. When Predator/Gabriel got close enough to talk to the pair softly, John was giving Braden a guided tour of his left lower quad through his pants leg. They may as well have been spray-tanned on, the cloth was so tight now. Predator/Gabriel could tell Braden so wanted to give in and abandon himself to total lust. He couldn’t cast stones as he knew all too well what effect John had on anyone when you were in the position Braden was. But Braden didn’t. Predator/Gabriel could see his self-worth and pride, his interest in seeing what happened to his pissant boss, and… something else holding him back. Predator/Gabriel could see the glint of it in the hot Marine concierge's eyes. Even as sex-hazed as they were feeling John’s incredible body and responding to his augmented human pheromones, it was there… fear. He stepped up very close to Braden and whispered quietly, “Braden, do you have any more of those business cards with your name on them? Like you gave us?” “Sure. In my jacket pocket,” Braden replied, almost humming in the throws of the haze. “Take what you like.” “Thank you.” Predator/Gabriel said, and then he added one more thing… “And Braden…” Braden looked up. “Trust is a two way street, remember. We trust you. Don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid. Ask John what you need to ask him.” Braden looked shocked as Gabriel quickly patted him on the shoulder before he began to move away. He had no idea Gabriel was so perceptive that he could see the question, which was leading to more questions, still unanswered at the center of his mind. Gabriel walked over to where Braden had folded his jacket. He carefully removed six business cards, and then he replaced the jacket just as he found it. At least his own time at Eton had taught him how to fold uniforms…. *** As Gabriel walked away, John kept guiding Braden’s hand around his teardrop before moving it up the interior quad toward the hip flexors. He had sensed the hesitation of course, but he wanted Braden to broach the subject in his own time. Perhaps Gabriel had noticed something he did not. It seemed to be the case with what he said. So, as he allowed that calloused weightlifter’s hand to explore more, he leaned down, “What do you want to ask me, Braden? Given what we are doing to each other, and what I am helping you do... it seems like we should be past the point where you can ask me what is on your mind. Go ahead. No question you will ever ask me again is off limits. I may have to give an abbreviated answer here, but when I can, you have my word I will answer in full. So, what is it?” “John…” Braden paused for one moment, but then he decided fuck it. Just let it out. “There was no way in the world to tell that what was going on with Clawson was that he had cum. None. Not a stain on his pants, that whatever it was yell was like a fan girl, not sexual. Beyond that he barely made a drooling whimper. So how--” “How could I know? Did I really know just by smelling it?” Braden nodded yes unto the back of John’s abs. John thought at length, but what was a microsecond for the rest of the planet before he replied. “Braden, for the moment, I am going to have to ask you to trust me in a few things. Some things I will be happy to share with you that I will not share around the Runt. EVER. “Now, I will say that I am a trained observer and I do it VERY well. That said… the short answer to your question is yes. I smelled it. The next obvious question is how, right?” Braden nodded again. “Well, let me say it this way for the moment. Is it fair to say that I am physically the biggest and the strongest man you have ever seen? A very special man with some special abilities like having REALLY big and strong muscles that no one else has.” “Yes SIR.” “Never call me Sir, again. I’m John. Nothing more. Not to you anyway. I’m John. Just like I am 41 years old, and I promise I will never call you Son, even though you technically could be.” “41!?!? You’re shitting me. You look younger than Gabriel, and he is--” “Just turned 30. But, I turn 41 in a couple of weeks. That is as true as me being the Predator in Apex Predator - that no one has figured out before you who was not an actual informant, by the way. Like I said, you could theoretically be my son, but I will NEVER look that old. “Just like I have a very special ability to get very big and be very strong, I also have the ability to look a LOT younger than I am. Can’t claim it as something I have worked on like my body. It just is. I have other special abilities that I rarely show outsiders too. You may see a few others tonight before we are done with Clawson. But like I said, when you see enough and you say yes you are willing to see it all, we will let you into our world and you will see everything I can do. So, can you be patient that long for me?” Braden turned around, and he rubbed John’s leg harder, but more sensuously, “Yes I can. And, thank you…” Braden then cocked a mischievous jock Cheshire cat smile that would have made the bad boy proud, “...Daddy.” “Why you scrawny fuck,” John said chuckling as he pulled Braden’s exploring hand toward his granite abs. “I’ll get you back for that one.” *** Meanwhile, cards in hand, Predator/Gabriel walked back to where Clawson was sitting. Clawson had looked so “in control” thirty minutes ago, but now, with Gabriel and John’s work on him, even the veneer of basic humanity was starting to wear thin. His eyes darted back and forth between John and Gabriel as he still sat frozen where Predator/Gabriel had left him. Those eyes had an animalistic look about them - as if he were prey, cornered and desperate… but the prey did not look for escape. Predator/Gabriel could almost read the Runt’s thoughts even before the Runt had them. He wanted what Braden had … respect, care, and most importantly, the ability to access those bodies - so badly that it was starting to break down what was “civilized” about him. It felt like torture - to see one muscular Adonis so completely take him over, while a god among men sat just a few meters away giving another what he craved. He would have dove on that muscle if he could. The only thing that was holding him in place, keeping him from running straight toward what he wanted so badly, was fear. Fear of losing everything. If he disobeyed the looming British physique god too much, all the three would tell his superiors what he had done, and that would get back to his mother. These men were of such import that they would be believed instantly. Security knew something was wrong with all of this. And he had been foolish enough to have 4,000 dollars in chips in his pocket - tips he had stolen. It was on camera and there would be testimony. Sexual contact, assault, felony theft. All any of them had to do was tell the truth about this and he would be ruined. An employee and unimpeachable MEN like them versus his word? Who would possibly be believed? And then, there was what was in his pants if he were arrested and searched. He was humiliated. He knew he shot nothing compared to normal men but it was his DNA. And again their testimony and the circumstantial evidence. He would go to jail and then…. But, deep down within him, so, so deep down... he loved it. A dark, but growing part of him loved what they were doing to him. It loved being controlled, at their mercy. It loved the chance to obey… superior men. He could not leave without showing the stains in his pants which would make him a laughing stock; but, half of him wanted to be seen. He HAD to keep what he had done a secret. Yet, half of him WANTED them to tell. Half of him wanted to keep pretending, keep the secret, and the other half kept whispering… Be used. You belong here. Imagine how they would use you in jail. So sexy, so much muscle. Like these three. The pulling voices inside his mind had Clawson frozen in place… and slowly, those voices were destroying him. Just like Predator/Gabriel KNEW they would. Predator/Gabriel relished the look. The fear, the eyes darting, the lust, the constant bouncing back and forth. Thanks to John teaching him how to read people, he knew exactly what it meant. That he was getting closer. And now he was going to push that craving half more and more and more… until it broke him. It was time to give the runt what he wanted. Predator/Gabriel spread out the business cards on a table and rotated the Runt’s chair so he could see clearly. “OK, Runt. I could see you were looking at them. So, let me explain. Braden is doing a preliminary search of John. John is even being so kind as to help him do it, big as he is. That way, we keep that bad little ticker of yours all safe and sound. Meanwhile, you and me… we are going to take our little search and have some fun with it. You wouldn’t be opposed to a little fun?” Predator/Gabriel went on before Clawson could even start to answer. “Good, I knew you would understand. Let’s start our little contest.” Predator/Gabriel grabbed a pen he kept in his trouser pocket and wrote on the back of each card the following words: ABS ARMS QUADS/HAMSTRINGS CALVES BACK CHEST As he did he started to explain in his “Professor” style voice as if he were talking to a kindergartener. “We are in Las Vegas, so it seems only appropriate to introduce a little chance into our game. Make it a bit of a gamble. So, let’s call this six-card muscle monte.” Predator/Gabriel flipped all the cards on the table and began to mix them exactly the way a confidence trickster would with three-card monte. “We are gonna mix all these cards up and then you are gonna tell me which card to draw at random, one at a time. That card is gonna tell you which part of my body you can search. And at the same time, which part of my body you are gonna judge for its size and symmetry and hardness and muscularity. AND the best part is- if you are very good with me, if you show me you can handle it without spilling the contents of those micro-bollocks all over the place, John MIGHT let you play the same thing with him. With Braden doing the searching, I am sure some of the pressure will be off, “Predator/Gabriel snickered. “How’s that sound? Now, are you gonna be a good Runt for me and be the best little obedient judge you can be?” Clawson feverishly nodded his head yes. “Still can’t open that Runt mouth of yours can you? It really is hopeless to ever make you a man. But, I guess I can’t expect you to behave like a man either. That would be unfair. All we can ever hope for is for you to be the best Runt you can be. “Alright, with that feeble little brain of yours, I can’t expect you to play this game correctly unless I demonstrate a turn. So let’s pick this one for me to ‘instruct’ you on what to do,” Predator/Gabriel pointed his finger seemingly at random card after card..... Seemingly as he actually had discretely marked every card as he was writing on them. He knew what each card was. So, in reality, it was not random at all when his finger stopped on a card. Predator/Gabriel picked the card up, turned it over, and handed it to Clawson so he could read it. CHEST “So, we start out with pecs. That sound good to you runt?” Clawson squeaked out quietly, but distinctly, “Yes… Sir, Doctor York.” “Good boy. You spoke. You are learning. Then again, even a puppy can learn to speak on command. So that isn’t saying much. Stay right where you are, while I get ready.” Predator/Gabriel turned Clawson’s chair so that it was facing away from the table and once again gave full view to Gabriel’s body standing before him. And, then, almost as an afterthought, Predator/Gabriel added, “Oh, and Runt, one more thing. One more rule to our little game. You see, this is Vegas and in Monte, the person playing HAS to have something to lose. Some kind of stakes. But, as it is, you have nothing to lose. So, let’s give you some stakes to lose. “If you can keep that micro-dicklet of yours under control for this whole search then you win. You get to satisfy what you wanted bringing us here AND you keep the stakes. BUT - if you don’t, you are gonna lose your stakes. “You’ll still get to feel muscle, maybe, but every time you lose control and shoot those droplets you call a load, John is gonna tell me even if it is too small to see, and then you are gonna lose a comp to me. And not just any comp you want to name. But, a comp of MY choosing. Nothing can be too extravagant. No comp is off the table. You lose and I can choose ANYTHING that is not illegal. And remember, we have our own MAN of a concierge sitting there who knows about every comp there is and can tell if you are lying to get out of your wager. And if you lie to me… well, the last one like you who lied to John didn’t exactly end up in the best place on earth. And, I am not as forgiving as John is. Those are the rules of our little contest, and you know how important it is for you to obey the rules. Understood?” Predator/Gabriel walked up within a couple of steps of the seated Clawson as the small male nodded his ascent. “Now.” Predator/Gabriel’s smile devilishly exploded across his face so sexily that the smile alone made Clawson’s groin spasm. “Want to see me take this tank top off?” In response to the mere thought, Clawson froze in place again. All that escaped his lips as they opened was an exhale followed by a tiny line of drool from the right corner of his lips as he nodded yes. “Now, you know better than that. That’s twice in a row you haven’t spoken in reply to a question from me. Remember what I said about how you can even teach a pup to speak on command. So it should be easy for a Runt like you… unless you really are just an animal. Now, if you want me to take it off, you are supposed to say what?” “Please, Doctor York.” “Please what?” “Please take off the tank top Sir.” Predator/Gabriel’s smile heightened the sexual tension even more as it rang broadly. He locked his sky blue eyes into Clawson’s and with that smile grinding the Runt’s groin, he reached down and grabbed the ends of the tank. Predator/Gabriel slowly, relentlessly teased Clawson, pulling the tank up very slowly, wiggling like he was having a hard time getting it up, then pulling it back down and starting over. Predator/Gabriel and John heard Clawson’s breathing become ragged, gasping as over and over again, a hint of Gabriel’s abs could be seen before they would disappear again. Between the incredibly sexy smile, the near striptease, and the rocketing anticipation of seeing Gabriel shirtless, Clawson was near cumming again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Gabriel allowed the shirt to fully pull up and off, and he dropped it on the floor. Again, just as when he removed his oxford shirt, he stood for a moment, allowing his arms to drop to his side. He would twist at the abs first to one side and then the other in a partial relaxed stage pose alternating between the right and left. The effect was to make Gabriel’s abs crunch hard and twist, the bricks erupting up and losing the space between them, the obliques and intercostals exploding to either side as his inner lats framed the brick mason’s pile of ab muscles. The hint of his Adonis belt sliding into visibility and then descending again under his loose-fitting trousers. The effect on Clawson was immediate and unmistakable. He gasped again, but now it was so soft that it barely registered to Gabriel’s ears, though he was just a couple of steps ahead of the seated runt. That line of spittle had now emerged as a full fledged drop as he could no longer lick it away he was in such shock. It slowly descended down from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, and landed on his own ill-fitting tank. *** Five meters away, Braden leaned into John’s arms as he was exploring that forearm that rivaled his quads in size. As he watched, now seeing what Gabriel really looked like, he said quietly, “And Gabriel really has NEVER competed before? John, he looks like a proper physique pro a few weeks out, what 3 or 4. And he poses so well and he isn’t even properly posing. He is incredible…” Braden turned a moment, looked up from his muscle cocoon into John’s face looking down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. But I can see why there really would be discussion who has better shape between you. He is fucking amazing.” John smiled. “No offense taken. Especially because it is true. Objectively I may be “better” but I am an open bodybuilder and Gabriel is physique. We are two different beasts. But you don’t know how proud it makes me that people see what I have always seen. So, maybe you can help me convince him to do a show. Our friends here say he would get his pro card as fast as me. You know we met them earlier tonight and they made a bet with him about doing something at the expo tomorrow. If he will do what they bet him to do, then competing and winning will be child’s play.” “Who? What bet?” John was matter-of-fact. Sometimes he forgot that his and Gabriel’s friend base in bodybuilding was far from ordinary, especially for people who essentially don’t compete. “Cedric McMillan, Flex Lewis, and Brandon Hendrickson asked him--” Braden interrupted, shocked. “Whoa? You mean the physique champ? THE CHAMP. And Flex Lewis too? And he doesn’t believe…” “Maybe he is growing into that belief right before our eyes. It is part of what makes what you are seeing special. A lot of layers beyond just an exercise in domination. But the bet--” John began to tell Braden the particulars of the bet/challenge Gabriel was facing at the expo tomorrow. *** Meanwhile, as John and Braden were talking and watching, Predator/Gabriel took even more steps closer to Clawson, only stopping when he was to the point of being close enough to climb on top of him to do a lap dance. He ran a hand a bit cockily down his pecs and abs. “So, what do you think? As you can see - there are no visible wires or tape or any kind of sticker or anything attached to my skin. I’ll even flex for you. When I do that, if there was so much as a flesh colored bandage on me, flexing would make it pucker.” Clawson’s eyes were WIDE and dilated as he saw Predator/Gabriel’s chest seem to thicken and then deflate by an inch. Thicken and deflate. Thicken and deflate. Every time he squeezed his pecs together, they were no more than 18 inches from Clawson’s open mouth. At that range, his whole visual field was taken up by Gabriel’s pecs. He could see even the fine dash of perfectly complementary black hairs on the skin. At a distance you could not see them, but this close, such details screamed MAN in Clawson’s wavering mind. Predator/Gabriel went on as he saw the reaction in his prey, but his voice nearly clinically detached in its matter of fact coldness. As if he were transcribing medical notes, he said. “Good, it seems from that reaction that you are paying close attention. And while you are, can you see the shelf on my upper pecs? I work them hard, even did the water bottle balancing trick once. As a matter of fact, let’s see.” Predator/Gabriel looked around and as if his desire manifested it, he saw several clusters of half-liter plastic water bottles in clusters around the meeting tables. He trotted over, grabbed one, and brought it back. He resumed his former place extremely close to the Runt, while he gave the bottle to the nothing. “When I tell you, reach up and put it on my pecs. You’ll see where.” Predator/Gabriel then leaned back slightly, rotated his shoulders forward, and flexed… HARD. His pecs exploded in thickness, even thicker than they had been moments ago. “NOW,” Predator/Gabriel growled. The Runt robotically reached up with the bottle. He did indeed see the thickest part of the upper pec shelf, a natural approximately flat spot where the thickness pushed away from the collar bones. The Runt put the bottle on the spot and removed his hand… and the bottle easily stayed balanced. Predator/Gabriel smiled, “MEN can walk around doing this Runt. They used to make women walk around with glasses of wine balanced on their heads to show poise and grace. I wonder which you would be better at…” He laughed hard for just a second before he grabbed the bottle. He twisted off the top, took a large gulp, and sat the bottle aside. The Runt was shaking again. He was so close to that muscle he could feel the warmth of it. The radiating heat. He struggled not to cum. He could only imagine the perk he would be forced to give up. But, seeing that shaking, Predator/Gabriel came even closer. He leaned in as he used his index finger to trace some faint veins that had appeared from the pec shelf flexing, “Some vascularity, there and there. Means this is all muscle. You can tell that too by the striations. Look at that, in the valley there. Let me flex…” Gabriel flexed again, and this time bounced his pecs, fast and then slow, back and forth. A whimper of struggle came from the Runt. “There we go. I can tell you see. Hahaha.” Predator/Gabriel pulled back slightly to his previous “lap dance’ position but he went on. “But I am most proud of my lower pecs here. See the way they hang down like that, nice and thick, even when I am not flexing. How they make t-shirts and undershirts curve under them. You saw that before. I always admired thick pecs that make a man’s nipples point down toward the ground… like John’s. And I guess I have been working hard to build myself a pair just like that, and they are just KEEP ... *flex* … GETTING … *flex* … BIGGER.” It was at that moment of flexing that Predator/Gabriel stopped for a moment, pretending to consider something he had long ago decided to do. Now was the perfect time. So, he went on in that same matter of fact tone. “But you know, I bet you can’t fully appreciate my lower pecs sitting there like that. I know the reaction people have looking up at John shirtless… You know Braden saw him at a bodybuilding show early in the summer. He can tell you what it is like.” Gabriel took two steps back from the chair and then looked down, his fiery blue eyes almost driving his next statement straight into Clawson’s now sexed-up, mushed brain, “I think they would look a lot better if you were kneeling in front of me here, looking up at me, watching me flex from there. Don’t you?” Predator/Gabriel had barely gotten the words out when Clawson practically lept from the seat and fell onto his knees before Gabriel. From across the room both John and Braden laughed along with Gabriel. “Fucking hell, you little shit. You just couldn’t wait for that could you? You jumped in like we did as kids on Boxing Day. Well, take in the view Runt. TAKE IT ALL IN.” Gabriel began to flex and bounce his pecs, and looking up, seeing Gabriel’s face partially obscured by them, the Runt couldn’t help it. He trembled and moaned in raw sexual passion, while fighting with everything he had not to touch the vision of sheer Angelic beauty above him. For his part, Predator/Gabriel just looked down. “Have to say. You look much better and more natural in that position. I think you were meant to be there.” Predator/Gabriel looked for a moment over his shoulder. “What do you think Braden?” Braden smiled… viciously, victoriously. The more he watched Gabriel perform this version of sending someone through a human trash compactor, the more he felt the urge. He wanted to participate. He never thought he would at first, when he guessed what they were going to do, but it had not made manifest yet. But there was something about being around these two, especially John as he had as yet spent more personal time with him. Later on, when they were teaching Braden about their world, Gabriel privately told him he knew what it was. It was John’s gift, his natural ability to bring out the REAL MAN in other men. What Phil had talked to him about. What Cedric had talked about feeling as a bodybuilder and US Army soldier. What the Marines had built in Braden and his knowledge as a trained MP - John was bringing out the superiority in Braden. Building something unique and special with those raw materials inside the soul of the hot young Marine. But Predator/Gabriel got the sense in that moment - so was he. Braden felt confident enough in the presence of the couple to now speak his mind totally and honestly. “Truthfully, Gabriel. I always knew that was the most natural place for him. Glad you are helping him learn it is where he belongs.” “Then come here. Stand close and take a good look down at him where he belongs. It is where he has belonged for a long time in front of you.” John patted his charge on the quad, reinforcing Gabriel’s invitation. “You heard the man. Besides, I agree. You need to see who you were once so afraid of for what he really is.” Braden stood and John opened his quads, allowing the young Marine to walk the few meters it took to stand shoulder to shoulder next to Gabriel. Being a few inches taller, the scene was even more stark for the Marine. Standing together, looking down, they saw what John had seen in the eyes of Heath and so many others before them. There was nothing human in him in that moment, no spark of intelligence in those eyes. Just animal lust. Clawson for his part looked up at the two muscle men before him and he felt … home. “Go on, Runt. Tell Braden. Tell him what we both know. You already know what you need to confess without me even asking the question.” “I… I belong here… SIR.” Predator/Gabriel laughed, “Good Runt. Reward time.” But before the reward came, John laughed hard from his corner. “He doesn’t need one, Gabriel. Bet there is a damp spot visible in his pants now. Tiny, but it's there. I can smell it again. He lost his microload again with you two standing over him. He doesn’t even need to touch your hard muscle. He is where he belongs, and that dickless wonder in his crotch sputted its agreement right when he said it.” Braden glanced at the Runt’s crotch… and saw the slight but still obvious darkened spot. That sight, what just happened, Braden lost it. He broke down laughing so hard he was holding his sides, “Fucking Shit. John, you’re right again. The fuck has a wet spot on his zipper” Gabriel looked down in mock disgust, but he knew the outcome had been inevitable once he was on his knees. The Runt’s mental vice’s screws tightened. Clawson was another step closer to his final outcome - the outcome with any version of a medieval screw torture device. He would crack and break. “Goddamn, Runt. That’s twice now. TWICE. And you didn’t even touch the muscle. AGAIN. Is there anything about you that isn’t a cock-up - except that you don’t have a cock.” All the men laughed at Clawson to scorn. As Gabriel and Braden were standing over him, that feeling welled up within Clawson… desire. The part of him who wanted to scream his inferiority to the rooftops started to speak in his now bifurcated mind. You wanted this. You have always wanted this. You just resisted until you could find MEN who are MEN enough to put you here. To be under real men like this. It isn’t just empty words that you belong here under these Sirs. Under Braden. You deserve to be right here. That’s why you shot when he stood over you. You know it. Don’t lie to yourself. You have always known this is where you belong. You know it... Predator/Gabriel interrupted his thoughts. “Well, cock-up, looks like that means you lost a perk. Let’s take the easiest one first. Room upgrade.” Hearing this was the first time in the better part of fifteen minutes that the runt spoke coherently. Still, it was soft, humbled. Awed. Frightened. “Sir…” He immediately corrected himself, remembering the rules and that Braden was standing there too. “Sirs, I was going to offer you a substantial room upgrade by allowing the searc--” Predator/Gabriel began to chuckle as if he had heard the most moronic comment ever made by a human. “No, no, no, Runt. You don’t understand. Not just “an” upgrade. THE UPGRADE. You are going to upgrade John and I to the best available suite… and not just in the Bellagio but in the entirety of MGM Resorts in this city.” “But--” Predator/Gabriel’s voice snapped into a cold, ruthless command. “RUNT - don’t ever say anything like you were about to say again. You obey. That’s ALL. You are on your fucking knees, cum in your goddamed trousers. You do what I say, when I say it, how I say it, or you’ll be on your knees before some bull queer in prison. You know these two with me can put you there for all the sexual misconduct and sexual assaults you have done to male guests and employees. You KNOW it. So make your fucking choice, right now. Us or taking your chances as a jailhouse bitch.” Braden marveled as he listened. There was no DI he had ever met who could match Gabriel for sheer ability to make you want to piss out of fear. That cold, quiet, relentless voice speaking the truth sounded like its owner would grind you into paste if he wanted. And not just the Runt. Even him, even John, even the others like -- Were there others like John? He kept saying “our world.” He once said, “that you’ve ever seen.” Were there more to see? Our world… Another question to ask one day formed in his mind. At the same moment, Clawson’s head dropped. He had to obey. Both the pieces of him insisted on it. The part that was afraid of being found and the part that knew this was his place. He had to obey. Predator/Gabriel felt the shift in his aura- the little thing’s balls were now being stepped on as surely as if he had actually stood on them. Point made. Point accepted. Predator/Gabriel went on as if the incident had never happened. “Braden, what is the best room you can think of in the company?” “There are some crazy palaces of rooms to be sure. But the best for you two is tough...” Braden thought for a moment. and then his eyes lit up and a beautiful smile graced his lips. “The ARIA - Sky Villas - Number 18. Specifically Villa 18.” Predator/Gabriel looked down and saw Clawson’s eyes nearly explode from his head in terror. He knew from the reaction Braden’s suggestion was the right one. Turn the screws tighter little fuck. “Why that one in particular?” “The Sky Suites at the ARIA. One of the most luxurious places in all of Las Vegas. They were designed that way. But that particular one… You and John will not just have your own personal concierge but you have your own butler, bartender, and personal chef if you want. Private elevator to the suite so you never have to take the hallway or main one. And there is another private elevator directly to the kitchens from your own commercial quality kitchen inside the suite. Your own dining room. Fully stocked bars on two floors. Twelve foot high bedroom ceilings. And John -” Braden looked over and his eyes flashed pure pleasure. He was about to give the giant man a VERY special gift. “ John, the living area’s ceilings are three stories high. You can even jump with your arms above your head and not touch the ceiling. Grand staircase big enough for you to go upstairs. Views going North on Las Vegas Boulevard from the 57th through 59th floors. It is the perfect spot - for both of you. And only shy of 7,000$ per night currently….” “Is it available?” Predator/Gabriel asked. Braden went back to John and collected his iPad. Expertly, he moved through the menus of the reservation system and … “Yes. Yes, it is available for the entire remaining length of your stay. And as the supervisor who is ultimately responsible for all high value perks given to high spending patrons of the Bellagio… he can authorize a perk at another casino in the company. Their concierge can even move your bags for you from your current room here if you want.” Braden tapped a few more menus as he walked back to Gabriel and resumed standing over his nominal boss.. “All it takes is his code here...” As he handed the iPad to Gabriel, Braden thought as he looked down at the pissant minion at his feet. He relished seeing this runt put in the place where it hurt him the most. Being forced to serve clients he once thought he was better than was better than seeing him sexually humiliated. iPad in hand, Gabriel said, “Well, John, you want 35,000 dollars in a hotel room? I have not stayed in a room that expensive since I was a kid when my grandfather participated in the State Opening of Parliament with Black Rod....” John’s Predator just smiled back, relishing every moment of the fruition of so many months of planning and teaching. “Far be it from me to question my MAN right now. I am along for the ride… and I am up for being able to stretch inside and not touch the ceiling. Although I might jump and try to touch it, hahahaha.” Gabriel turned the iPad around, “Well Runt, put in those numbers…” Clawson was almost in tears as he entered in the codes for the room upgrade he had planned on originally, but then named the upgraded room as ARIA Sky Villa 18. There was a completion chime from the iPad, and Braden took the machine back from his one time boss. “It’s yours now,’ Braden said. “At that level, they’ll have you moved before you are even done here. As your personal concierge for the night, the keys will be waiting on me at our desk here to give to you.” “Talk about EXQUISITE SERVICE. I will have to make sure to leave you a glowing personal review.” Predator/Gabriel said with a smile. “Well, Braden, if you will excuse me for a bit, the runt and I have a search to finish… and I think you have your search of John you were doing. Far be it from me to stand in the way of a wanton criminal like Mr. Declann over there from being thoroughly checked out by a proper professional.” “Payback is such a bitch. Both of you.” John said smiling, rubbing in the comradery the three men had that Clawson would have ripped his teeth out to have… but never would. “Don’t tempt the Runt to act up…” Predator/Gabriel said, which made all the MEN laugh again. Predator/Gabriel looked down. “Well, time for a new card, don’t you think? Tell me when to stop.” His fingers began to dance over the remaining cards until the Runt moved. That was as close as he was going to give as a signal to stop. He grabbed the card his fingers had stopped on, as Braden went back into his fast-growing comfort of being with John in his muscle cocoon. John resumed guiding Braden’s searching hand, now over his right biceps. Once they were settled, Predator/Gabriel flipped the card for everyone to read, “Well, how about that. CALVES. I am rather proud of them, I must say. And, look at that. You are on your knees right where you need to be to see them and MAYBE, if you can control yourself which seems doubtful, touch them and search them. “Of course, that means my trousers have to come off for you to see them properly…” Gabriel stepped back a couple of paces and loosened his belt. “Oh Runt, since you know it is right and proper and you already said you belong on your knees down there in front of me -- in front of US -- why don’t you just stay on your knees the rest of the time of your search of me. You need to get accustomed to being on your knees…” Gabriel loosened the button to his trousers and was about to start his little “tease act” again when he thought about the story Flex Lewis had told him earlier in the night, the one about the effect Franco Columbu just dropping his pants right in front of a stranger had. Why not… he thought. So, Gabriel pulled down the zipper and let his pants fall right where he stood in less than a second. *** (To be continued)
    5 points
  17. [Not proofread perfectly, but I wanted to post something. Forgive me] The minute I stepped on my old high school campus I suddenly felt more humongous than ever in my entire life. I actually think I finally began to truly understand just how much I had grown over the last four years and I knew the feeling of hugeness was caused by the close proximity to my little muse. It felt like every part of my body was in ‘hard-on’ mode. My cock was stiff as hell, that was a given, but everything else was charged with sexual pleasure, as well – even the hairs on my head seemed to be at full mast. Walking up the sidewalk to the front doors I became aware – for the first time – at how my size caused me to no longer walk in a normal way. My thighs were too thick to simply move forward and backward, causing my huge frame to now sort of swing back and forth like a giant ape. It was clearly the gait of something enormous and I marveled at how even my shadow looked freakishly big and beast-like on the concrete. I had been too busy working out and growing to notice so many changes to my body. Seeing my shadow also re-emphasized, for me, just how unbelievably wide my shoulders had become. It looked like someone had two large dresser-drawers connected to their neck. I also loved how there were big lighted-spaces between my torso and my enormous arms because my lats forced my limbs to poke out from my frame at almost a ninety-degree angle. Lastly, I loved how incredibly thick my legs were – all over. My calves looked like small kegs and the thighs above were so big that they made my waist look tiny and it actually wasn’t. Walking into the hallway of the school, after having to open two doors and duck to get in, I felt like a giant coming to visit the little people of some village, when really I just wanted to see one specific person. Suddenly, because Mr. Miles was so close, I was keenly aware that I had grown into a glorious freak of nature. I knew my four hundred and twenty-three pounds looked unbelievably hot – but I was also terrifyingly big. It hadn’t dawned on me before because I was so focused on the act of growing. The stares, the gasps – and occasional screams - and the need in people to sometimes protect their small children when I was around now made perfect sense. It also all thrilled me beyond belief. I was about to make my little teacher-muse’s cock explode merely by cramming my big frame through his door – and that would be just the beginning of our lifetime of continued muscle worship and growth. That thought made me stop in my tracks. I was amazed I hadn’t ever contemplated it before. The truth was I did not have to be finished growing just because the four years was over. As a matter of fact – being with Mr. Miles was probably going to inspire me so much more that I would end up growing faster. I was so excited by that thought I immediately worried I might bust a wad right there in the middle of the school hallway. I forced my body to calm down – desperately wanting to save myself for my old teacher. As fate would have it, Coach Benton – the head of athletics, who used to move to the other side of the hallway when I passed – happened to be coming out of his office as I walked by. He took one look at me, recognized me instantly, turned completely white with fear, and ran back into his office, locking the door quickly. I even heard him moving some of his big furniture in front of the door – thinking foolishly it could keep me out. I smiled to myself – loving how I could make a grown man like that become scared shitless. I didn’t wish him any harm, I just loved that my size caused that kind of reaction. He was in his office shaking like a scared child because my body took up much more space that he thought possible. I was beginning to understand that because people thought it was impossible for a man to grow as big as I had become they just assumed I was some kind of monster. My huge muscles caused fear and I didn’t have to do a thing. And this is why Mr. Miles was so different than anyone else – he didn’t fear me before and I was sure he wouldn’t fear me even when he saw my new size. Humongous muscles thrilled the little teacher. Early on, the guy had seen my potential. He had envisioned me being more gigantic than even I thought possible. It crossed my mind that maybe he even realized that I would be as humongous as I had become over the four years. I knew there would be no way he’d be disappointed, simply because I was so enormous – but maybe I’d be right where he thought I’d be. Either way, I knew it would be hot. He’d crave me no matter how much I had grown, but I also sensed that he fully understood I’d be monstrous. I just hoped my real size would blow him away. As I headed down the hallway toward my teacher’s classroom I realized that the space seemed so much smaller now. My body was so wide that actually could reach out and touch the lockers on either side. That got my juices pounding even harder thought my body. I neared room 202 – the place that had filled my dreams for so many years and my heart started beating hard and fast. I wasn’t exactly nervous, but I definitely was ready to reveal my massiveness to the guy of my dreams. Mr. Miles’ door was open and I saw balloons tied to the doorknob. I also noticed a sign that said ‘Welcome Home.’ It was clear he expected me – something I had known would be true. I took a deep breath to make my body swell up even more and stepped into the doorway – having to lower my head so the top of it was beneath the doorframe. My shoulders stuck out farther than the sides of the frame, as did the sides of my quads. I glanced inside. When my eyes finally fell on the still gorgeous slim Mr. Miles I suddenly felt as big and powerful as Zeus. This exact moment had been what every second in the gym, every eighth chicken breast for breakfast, and what every raw-dick Saturday night had been about. It felt like my muscles were swelling even bigger at that moment. I knew it wasn’t actually happening, but I do think my mind was finally accepting I had, indeed, become colossal, humongous, and everything the guy standing in that room and I had ever wanted. I swear I could have inhaled or flexed a little and every stitch of clothing would have fallen off – ripped to shreds by my hugeness. I couldn’t even begin to stand in the small doorway like a normal man – I was too big. I tilted my head down a little lower and just stood there waiting. I was waiting for the moment when Mr. Miles would feel my presence – just because something enormous was taking up room near him. It took my muse no time at all to realize I was there, just as I thought. The initial look in his eyes, when they met mine, was deep love – the gaze I had craved and expected for four solid years. It was mixed in with the lust I had vividly memorized from high school, but there was an unspoken intense love that made every second in the gym and every sacrifice to grow bigger more than worth it. It was like the feeling you have after coming home from a very long trip. It was exactly what true love was supposed to be like. It was good that Mr. Miles’s gaze was full of that look first – it confirmed we would be together forever – but it quickly gave way to a face of utter shock. His amazement was epic. It was like there was a loud BAM and the guy fell to one knee and then the other. I had a feeling his small thighs instantly became like an Oreo cookie – his creamy filling oozing between his legs and he had no way to prevent it. I had longed for the day when my body would cause this man’s cock to explode. I wanted him to blast so hard that his world would never be the same. As his body shook powerfully, he just stared at my hugeness. I was then blessed with hearing my teacher speak directly to me for only the second time ever. “Holy Fuck!” This made me smile and pushed me closer to ejaculation than I wanted to be. I did not want to blow the wad that had been building for four years in the first minute I was with my teacher. I wanted my size and my strength to enable me to outlast the little man. I wanted to be strong for my muse. I had not anticipated, however, how much my teacher’s reaction would impact me. I knew I would blow his mind – just from my freakish size, but watching him uncontrollably react to my body was almost too much for me to handle. It was almost like I was seeing myself for the first time – realizing I had blasted beyond his wildest dreams for growth was enough to send me reeling. I decided to instantly convert the tsunami-sized gush of juice that zoomed through my body into a super boost to my cockiness. Instead of submitting to the need for something that equaled a dam-bursting release, I tensed up my body even more, stepped through the doorway completely, and rose to my full gigantic size. The small man, still too spent to rise from his knees, gasped loudly when I showed my full-bodied glory and spurted more cum instantly. I swear it was like my muscles made his body produce sweet man-juice on the spot. I would have thought the man’s first explosion had been so full that nothing remained, but it seemed Mr. Miles had a few tricks up his own skinny-armed sleeves. His crotch thrust forward hard and he moaned out loud as his eyes tried desperately to take in all my young, testosterone-laden, hard muscles. I’m pretty sure the guy thought he was dreaming. If it hadn’t been for his body’s violent involuntary reaction to my colossal presence I really think he would have thought his mind was playing tricks on him – since he had dreamed of this moment every night for four years solid. I could tell the little guy was going to be a cum-producing machine for the rest of his life because of me. I had a feeling I was going to be able to make him blast any time I wanted by just flexing or pressing some part of my hard body against his. I decided to torture-slash-please him some more and I walked over so my body towered right in front of him like I was the mythical giant to his Jack with some magical beans. When I looked down at my small beautiful muse I wanted to roar like some kind of un-caged beast. At that moment I felt so fucking powerful that I wanted the entire world to hear me claiming my little man. I was so overcome with lust, love, and intense desire that I was worried I’d crush the teacher if I held him in my big hands. I wanted to squeeze him so tight that I knew I should not touch him in any way. Somehow, my muscles tensed even more and veins, bulges, and striations popped up in so many places that I was worried I was going to detonate like a pile of dynamite. I was so fucking enormous compared to Mr. Miles. He looked like he was miles away as I stared down at his little body still kneeling below me. I had to lean way forward to peer at him over my mega-flexed chest. His eyes grew even wider than before as he gazed at my gigantic frame this close. His brain was slowly realizing the growth was real. He eyes were beginning to send messages that confirmed I was, indeed, huge beyond his wildest dreams. He looked directly ahead at my tree trunk legs and swallowed hard three times in a row. It was clear he was having trouble understanding that just one of my legs could be so much larger than his body. He then let his gaze travel upward and I loved watching his face fill with the kind of astonishment that was usually saved for natural disasters or seeing the ocean for the first time. When his eyes finally met mine I smiled at him in a way that made his heart pound harder and his toes curl up in his shoes. “You’re so . . . so . . . um . . . “ “Yeah, Mr. Miles, there’s no word that really comes close, is there? I guess you’ve noticed that you inspired me a lot.” He simply nodded his head slowly. He was still drifting in a land of disbelief. I knew it was going to take him a while to fully come round to accepting the fact that I was there and that I had grown way beyond what he had thought was possible. I was in no hurry. I loved every second his eyes worshipped my body. I was making him adjust his perception of reality and embrace something way outside of his previous muscle box. I could feel that he understood that I grew huge mostly because of him, but that awareness would come to completeness a lot later. “I think you . . . um . . . should call me Michael.” “If it’s alright with you I think I’ll stick with Mr. Miles – it kind of emphasizes the absurdity of our size difference if the guy that’s ten times bigger than the other uses ‘mister.’ Don’t you think?” The little guy just nodded his head. I wasn’t sure he even heard what I was saying. He just figured he should agree with anything the monstrous body in front of him said. I bent over to reach down and help the man to his feet. Mr. Miles quickly waived my hands away – before I even touched him. “No, please don’t. The second you touch me I’m going to have a second explosion even more intense than the first and I’m not sure I can handle that right now.” I stood back up and marveled at how my massive thick chest made the little guy disappear beneath me. I couldn’t even see his nice bubbled ass – he was just completely blocked by my giant pecs. It was cool as hell to have humongous mounds of beef that blocked the guy from my view. I knew Mr. Miles was marveling at the same thing. I bent forward a little so I could see his still-in-shock face as he wobbled to his feet – still pretty unstable because of his violent ejaculation just minutes ago. He stared at my face when he was finally standing. “How . . . how . . . how in the hell did you get…” “Dude, all I needed was this.” I reached down and pulled a slightly crumpled photograph from the waistband of my shorts. It was the picture of Mr. Miles, which he had given to me on the last day of high school. It was a little worse for the wear and even had a few obvious cum blotches on the front and the back. I held it out so my teacher could see what it was. When he recognized what it was it made him smile and I believe the little man started coming back to reality. Something so personal and so memorable was helping him to realize everything he was seeing was real. I had, indeed, grown into the colossal muscle beast that he saw standing in front of him. “All I did was lift, go to class, eat, sleep, and dream of you, Mr. Miles. You were the only inspiration I needed. I grew because I knew it would please you.” “My god, there’s more than enough to please me.” “That was my dream – to shock the hell out of you when I came back. It looks like I accomplished that, judging by the giant stain in your pants. “ Both of us turned red after this comment. Even though each of us had dreamed of this moment forever it was still a little surreal to actually be meeting after such a long time. We were almost like two sex-starved teenager that didn’t know what to do. I felt the blood pumping through my body so hard that I could hear it pounding into my brain. I had a feeling the same thing was happening to Mr. Miles. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t stronger. You know . . . I wish I could have held out longer.” “Mr. Miles, you don’t need to be strong. Look at me. I can be powerful for both of us. I also think it wouldn’t be possible for anyone to hold out any longer than you did. Trust me – even guys much bigger than you have filled their crotches with a load in less the time it took you. I just kind of cause that reaction in people – but it really only matters to me that you blasted hard. I’ve only wanted to see you shaking uncontrollably – it’s what has kept me going for four years.” I knew the poor guy was only hearing about half of what I was saying. His orgasm was finished and his body had already started churning more juice inside his balls. He was staring at my body again like some kind of starving animal looking at fresh meat. Even though we both knew it was too soon, the little teacher wobbled back up to fully standing. He was teetering a little at first, but finally his legs strengthened a little and he was able to stay erect. I smiled a little – to myself – when I noticed again how small he was compared to me even when he was standing. It was like I was a big father towering over his little boy. To fully realize he was so much older than me was such a turn-on. I was so big I could easily make him do anything I wanted – not that I would, of course, since all I wanted to do was please him – but it was just knowing I could that aroused me. I think that’s part of what got him so excited, as well. I peered over my massive chest at the guy and we locked gazes. His desire for me was palpable. So much, in fact, that I worried he might explode. “I need to be alone with you somewhere else right now. I don’t think I can last much longer without groping your huge body.” Sweeter words had never reached my ears. It almost brought tears to my eyes. The man that filled every second of my days and nights – the guy would helped make every breath about growing bigger – had just said what I had longed to hear for so many years. The thought of Mr. Miles’ little hands touching my humongous muscles was almost too much for me to handle. I nearly went down on my knees and exploded uncontrollably – but I knew that would delay our departure, so I held on. “I have my motorcycle outside, but I’m afraid there’s only room for me – and I barely fit.” “It’s fine. You can follow me home.” “I remember where you live. I’ll probably beat you there.” I watched as he turned to gather his stuff quickly. The man did not want to waste even a second. He made sure to avoid getting near me. I think he worried that even feeling the heat from my testosterone-boiling body would cause him to explode again. I had a feeling it would do the same to me. He made sure to watch me duck and turn to fit out his classroom door from the hallway and shook his head in amazement when I was back to my full height. “I bet there are places where you just simply don’t fit.” “Most places, Mr. Miles.” He shook from the excitement my response caused in his body. He also had to stop for a few seconds to prevent his hardened cock from shooting again. I gave him time to regain composure – mainly because if he had exploded again I was sure my body would have done the same no matter how hard I tried to prevent it. He continued to stare at every inch of my huge body – as if it all still seemed like a dream to him. I instinctively knew he wanted me to go first, so he could watch my enormous frame waddle down the hallway. He gasped out loud as soon as he saw my huge back – a reaction that pleased me to no end. We were now on the way to my muse’s house to finally touch each other after five years of abstaining. I had a feeling his poor house might not be able to stand the earthquake I was going to cause when he finally placed his hand on my muscles. I was ready to find out, though. I was more than ready.
    5 points
  18. 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!
    5 points
  19. Haha! Yeah - it's never gonna happen! Us Brits don't really do therapy anyway. We just get the Custard Creams out and put the kettle on.
    4 points
  20. Jed couldn't believe it. Dexter was eating again. Jed's locker was just down the hall from Dexter's. He watched as Dexter, his face buried in his locker, cracked open a canned protein shake and with the ferocity of someone who hasn't eaten in days, glugged it down in three giant gulps. Dexter then grabbed a handful of snack bars, slammed his locker shut, and loped past Jed towards the study hall they both had next period. Dexter was wearing baggy jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Jed watched Dexter as he passed. Something wasn't right. Jed was used to looking down on Dexter as were most of the other students at school. But now, Jed realized that he could not see the top of Dexter's head as he shuffled passed eyes fixed on the floor. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn't get to his locker fast enough. He was starving! That morning he had eaten even more than usual -- a three egg omelet, two breakfast sausages, and a bowl of grits. Thankfully his mother still enjoyed cooking for him. He was full when he finished, but that lasted barely an hour. By 9, his stomach felt empty. By 9:30, he was hungry. By 9:45, he was counting the seconds till the period was over and he could rush to his locker where he knew he had snacks waiting. Dexter felt Jed eyeing him. He hated that he had so many classes with Jed. Many people picked on Dexter, but Jed was the worst. Of course, that hadn't happened recently. Things were changing. The bell rang and Dexter leapt from his seat and tore across the room and down the hall to reach his locker as quickly as possible. He had finished his protein shake before he realized he even had his locker open. It felt so good to drink it. His body calmed a bit. He took a breath and grabbed three of the healthy snack bars that his mom started buying for him. He knew the protein shake wasn't going to be near enough. Three snack bars would hopefully do it. Lunch was an hour and a half away. He raced past Jed without looking up at him. Even from his periphery, Dexter noticed that Jed was seeming less and less tall. Soon, Dexter thought, I'll be the taller one. Maybe very soon. Dexter was asleep in class again. Jed didn't know how he got away with it. Dexter was sitting in his usual front corner desk when Jed entered the room. Before Jed could settle in a seat, Dexter opened a book like he was going to study, then quickly unwrapped three snack bars. A disinterested Mr. Bowman sat behind his desk facing the class. He never cared what the students did as long as they kept quiet. Each student took a seat, the room quieted, and Dexter methodically and silently ate three snack bars, one after the other, appearing to savor each bite. He then put his head down on his desk and seemed to fall asleep instantly. Again, Jed thought something wasn't right. Dexter's sweatshirt was baggy and oversized, but Jed could not convince himself that Dexter wasn't almost filling it out. In his position leaning forward, the sweatshirt appeared to be stretched somewhat tightly across Dexter's shoulders and upper back. As he slept, Dexter's chest expanded and contracted with each slow breath. With each expansion, Jed swore he could see Dexter's lat muscles coming further into focus under the sweatshirt. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Dexter's back couldn't be that wide, his back muscles couldn't be that pronounced, and there is no way those could possibly be Dexter’s shoulders and upper arms filling out the sweatshirt. He must be wearing a thick shirt underneath. Maybe it was even a second sweatshirt. That had to be it. Dexter shifted slightly, his arms changing position, the creases in what to Jed increasingly seemed like a stretched sweatshirt changing to accommodate the shifting mysterious bulk beneath. Jed looked away. He must be going crazy. Dexter made sure his book was opened and his snack bars unwrapped before the normal classroom noises died down. He liked sitting in the front corner of the classroom -- close enough to the teacher that no one would mess with him, far enough from the teacher not to draw his attention. The snack bars were so inviting. He was still very hungry. He wanted to wolf them down but knew that would be a bad idea. So, he ate them as slowly as he could manage. Each bite was delicious. He knew each mouthful he swallowed would go towards his growing body. It felt so good. He wasn't wearing anything under the sweatshirt. Each time he brought a bar to his mouth to take a bite, he could feel the tightness of his sweatshirt as it stretched ever so slightly over his shoulder and arms. He resisted the temptation to flex. His biceps and triceps bulged now even without flexing. Could he see the peak of his bicep through the sweatshirt even now? Was the sweatshirt that tight on him? It couldn't be. He took another bite. Then another. Then another until he was finished. He got tired right away as he often did after eating these days. The weight of the snack bars and protein shake felt good in his stomach. His body was happy. Maybe he would grow. He realized he should bury that thought. The thought of growing excited him. Sometimes he got hard just thinking about it. His jeans were very baggy, but now he was starting to worry they were not baggy enough. He looked down at the folds of the jeans over his lap. The bulge of his penis was obvious to him. It was so big now. People couldn't tell, though, right? He wasn't sure he wanted anybody to notice. Except maybe Cindy. People would just see bunched baggy jeans. Maybe he should try to stay awake. If he fell asleep, he might get an erection. He was so tired, though. Before he could register just how tired, he was asleep. Forty minutes went by slowly for Jed. People kept trying to pass him notes mostly to ask about his girlfriend Cindy. Jed refused to write back. Cindy was fine and yes, she was still his girlfriend and people needed to stop asking him about it or he was going to get mad. All the while, his mind kept coming back to Dexter who was dead to the world asleep. Jed's friends finally gave up on him. Left alone, Jed was drawn once again to Dexter's sleeping form. With each passing moment, Jed became more and more convinced that Dexter did seem to be the wrong size. He was too big. Something was definitely wrong. Jed scanned Dexter from head to toe taking in everything that looked wrong -- thick arms, rounded shoulders, a wide back, and... was that a giant bulge in Dexter's crotch? Jed tried to look away -- this was disgusting -- but he couldn't. It could be a trick of his jeans, which were every bit as baggy as his sweatshirt, but was it? Jed watched with fascination and horror as the bulge at Dexter's crotch started to grow. It grew, pushing outward, a dome bigger than Jed's eyes wanted him to believe. There was a pause, then abruptly the bulge changed and began snaking its way down Dexter's right leg. One inch, then another, then another until a bulge as thick as a can of energy drink and twice as long snaked more than halfway to Dexter's knee! It was enormous! Dexter's breathing became deeper and faster. What was clearly a giant erection pulsed against Dexter's increasingly tight jeans. Moment after moment, breath after breath, the bulge in Dexter's pants seemed to swell towards its full size. Could Jed see the head of Dexter's cock inflating under his jeans? It looked the size of a baseball! Suddenly, Dexter shot awake. He sat up, looked down at his lap, and immediately flushed. Jed forced his eyes to the front of the room. He tried to forget what he just saw. Finally, the bell rang, and Jed left the room with the class. Dexter was having a dream about Cindy. Fuck it was good. She was so damn hot. Her tits huge and so soft. He was about to kiss them. Cindy moaned, her pink nipples swelling towards his waiting mouth... Derek bolted awake. Fuck, he’d fallen asleep. He was immediately aware of the giant erection straining against his jeans. Fuck, it was huge! People would see! He repositioned his legs and shifted his sweatshirt, so it covered as much of his leg as possible. Fuck, stop thinking of Cindy. Think of something else. Anything else. Did anyone notice? Dexter scanned the room. Nobody seemed to have noticed, but Dexter thought Jed seemed to be making a point of looking straight ahead at the empty whiteboard. Mercifully, the bell rang. Dexter stayed seated as the rest of the class left the room. He felt his cock deflate slightly. "Ok there Dexter?" Mr. Bowman asked with an inquisitive look? "Yes, I'm fine Mr. Bowman", Dexter responded gathering his things. He stood to leave. When he reached his full height, he realized things looked different. The angles were off. Things looked lower. Was he taller? He had had a few tall mornings recently, waking up realizing he had grown overnight. It couldn't have happened while he was napping during class, could it? Mr. Bowman raised an eyebrow. Dexter hurried out of the classroom. Jed couldn't believe what he'd seen. Or what he'd thought he'd seen. What was happening? Trying to appear calm to anybody who was watching, he walked towards his locker. Cindy was supposed to meet him there. He rounded the corner of the hall where his locker was. No Cindy. Jed just kept walking. People were watching him. He just kept walking. He arrived early to his next class -- physical education. He walked straight to his locker and started to change. One more period to go till lunch. He would probably see Cindy there, unless she was making a point to avoid him, which she might be. He thought back to two weeks ago when things really started to go bad with them. Jed was messing with Dexter as he had done countless times before. He had twisted Dexter's arm behind his back and was slowly raising it higher as Dexter squealed in pain. A small crowd had gathered to watch the entertainment. Jed's friends were goading him on. Then Cindy was there. "Why do you always have to pick on him?!" Cindy shrieked at him. "Why shouldn't I?!" Jed shot back. But what he was thinking was, "Because I saw you looking at him! Again!" What was worse is there was something wrong with Dexter. He was putting up much more of a fight than he ever had before. He screamed at Jed in his squeaky voice, "Let me go!" and tried furiously to break Jed's grip. Jed's left hand was clutching Dexter's upper left arm, Jed's right hand forced Dexter's right arm up his back, well past the point of pain. Suddenly, Dexter grunted, really more of a squeak, and tried to escape, forcing his right arm downward and lurching forward to break Jed's grip on his left arm. Even through his oversized sweatshirt, Jed felt Dexter's left arm swell with hard muscle as his biceps and triceps flexed violently. His right arm forced Jed’s down an inch or two before Jed, throwing all his strength into it, managed to stop Dexter's escape attempt... just barely. Dexter struggled for a few more seconds before giving up. Jed had won again, but just barely. Jed was shocked at Dexter's seemingly brand new strength and the way his arm had swelled when he tried to escape. Jed looked back at Cindy to find her glaring at him. Her arms were crossed under very ample breasts. Her eyes were points of anger aimed directly at Jed. Jed let Dexter go and he shuffled off, eyes down, tears streaming down his face. Cindy broke her gaze with Jed to watch Dexter as he left. Things had been bad with Cindy ever since. Everything in the hallway looked just the slightest bit shorter to Dexter. The lockers, the classroom doors, and even the other students. Could this really be happening? He did have not time to dwell on it. The friction of his jeans against his cock as he hurried down the hall caused his erection to return in full force and then some. His swollen cock had escaped his underwear, he knew. As he walked, his cock head pushed closer and closer to his knee. It strained against his increasingly tight jeans, his quadricep muscles flexing against his swollen erection. The thought of his cock growing caused it to swell that much more. He had to find someplace private and deal with this situation. He had to get to gym class though. There was no way he could walk into the changing room like this. Frantically, he ducked into a bathroom and into an empty stall quickly closing the door behind him. There were two other guys in the bathroom. A bead of sweat ran down Dexter's forehead as he waited desperately for them to leave. The instant they were out the door, Dexter unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. His dick was straining against his over-matched underwear. His cock head and at least two inches of shaft had escaped the bottom edge of his underwear. Dexter marveled at it for half a heartbeat before ripping his underwear down. His cock surged and sprang upward thickening and lengthening by inches. Fuck, it must be ten inches long! Dexter put both his hands on his cock and instantly it exploded in an intense orgasm. Spurt after spurt of cum erupted from his dick and splattered against the door of the stall. Dexter became lost in the orgasm as he ejaculated over and over. He finally came to his senses almost a minute later. The door was slathered with cum, which was dripping and pooling on the floor. How was he going to clean all that up? His dick was still half hard. Wondering how he would stuff it back in his pants, he reached down to pull them up, and saw his legs. His quads looked muscular! And big! It was only a couple of days ago doing leg presses that he noticed how crazy strong they had become. The silence surrounding him reminded Dexter that he was late to class. With some effort, he stuffed himself into his pants, used fistfuls of paper towels to clean his cum off the stall door and floor, and rushed off to gym class. Jed was the first person dressed and ready for class. Today's class was about proper bench press technique. It was a valuable exercise, but if done wrong could lead to shoulder problems. The teacher, Mr. Greer, asked Jed to demonstrate proper technique and then spot other students as they demonstrated theirs. Jed demonstrated first with just the bar to show perfect technique. To show how things can go wrong, Mr. Greer asked Jed to do additional sets progressively adding more and more weight. Jed started with 25 lbs. on either side, which was still easy for him. He then put 45-pound weights on either side for a total of 135 lbs., not his max, but definitely something he could feel. Jed did a full set of 10 as Mr. Greer pointed out how Jed was still maintaining proper form despite the fact that he was working harder to move the weights. "Are you up to push yourself further?" Mr. Greer asked Jed. "Of course, Mr. Greer. Let's go to 185." Pleaser, Mr. Greer added a 25 lb. plate to either side of the bar. Jed took a deep breath and pushed the bar upward. He proceeded to execute 7 repetitions, the last two of which were a little shaky. Mr. Greer pointed out how Jed's form started to loosen as he reached the end of the set. "Let's go up a little more, Jed. Just for a couple of reps to show the class why it's smart to be aware of your limits. I'll spot you. You'll be safe." Mr. Greer put 10 lbs on either side of the bar bringing the total weight to 195 lbs. Jed wasn't very worried. He had maxed at this level before. He took another deep breath and pushed the bar upwards. Be lowered the bar to his chest and could feel his form loosening. His back was arching slightly, his elbows shaking a little as he slowly thrust the weight up to complete his first rep. He lowered the bar again and struggled through a second rep. Mr. Greer started to say, "That's enough, Jed", but Jed lowered the bar for a third rep. As it touched his chest, he knew he made a mistake. He struggled with all his might, but the bar raised only a few inches before Mr. Greer grabbed the bar and re-racked it. "That is a great demonstration, class, of why you do not want to push yourself too far." Mr. Greer looked across the room to the door. "Ah. Dexter. So kind of you to join us. Perhaps you should be next to show the class your technique on the bench." Jed looked over and saw Dexter in the doorway of the gym. He was wearing an oversized tee shirt and shorts. Jed thought his forearms looked oddly thick. So did his calves. Mr. Greer turned to Jed. "Jed", Mr. Greer said, "why don't you spot Dexter while I observe." Jed responded, "Yes, sure, I'll spot." Dammit. Dexter had arrived at just the wrong time. He was hoping to avoid attention at today's class. Instead, he was about to go second behind Jed in a class demonstration. To Dexter's dismay, Mr. Greer asked Jed to spot. Jed agreed quickly, but Dexter thought his voice sounded shaky somehow. Dexter actually loved lifting weights. His muscles had grown so much over the past couple of months, it was insane. On top of which, bench was one of his favorites. His pecs always pumped incredibly from a good chest workout. They actually felt pumped right now as did his entire body from the strenuous activities of the bathroom just a few minutes ago. Dexter tried to ignore the fact that Jed would be his spotter and took his place on the bench. They started with just the bar. God, it was so light. Dexter complete 10 repetitions like it was nothing. When he started a couple months ago, even just the bar was pushing it for him. Things were so different now. "Ok, that was obviously too easy for Dex. Slow down son! And keep your form tight. Let's throw on some 25's." Jed put 25 lbs. on either side of the bar bringing the weight to 95 lbs. Dexter knew it would be easy. He completed 10 steady reps with barely any effort. He could feel his pecs and arms beginning to swell. "Looking good, son." Mr. Greer said. "Let's go up to 45's." Dexter was surprised. Mr. Greer had never jumped him up so quickly. Jed replaced the 25's with 45's and took his place behind the bench. Dexter wrapped his hands around the bar. A couple weeks ago, this was his max weight. He pushed upward lifting the bar off the rack rather easily. He steadied the weight and then lowered it to his chest. It felt light! He pressed it up with relative ease. God, he'd gotten strong. He completed nine more repetitions without struggling at all. "Wow, son, these weights have worked wonders on you, haven't they? Think you're ready to jump right to 185?" Dexter started to say, "I don't know..." but was interrupted by Mr. Greer. "Sure, you are. You'll be fine." Wordlessly, Jed added 25 lb. weights to either side of the bar. 185 lbs. was a lot for Dexter. In fact, it was his max lift from last week. He had managed only three shaky repetitions. But he felt good. His pecs felt full and pumped. He grabbed the bar and without hesitation lifted it off the rack. It didn't feel as heavy as last week. He lowered it to his chest and fearing it might get stuck there immediately tried to push it back up. It moved! Fast! Before he knew it, his arms were fully extended. Fuck, that was a lot easier than last week! He lowered the bar and did another easy repetition. Then a third and a fourth and a fifth. He slowed down on the sixth and perhaps a little more on the 7th. He was suddenly conscious that the entire class was watching him. He'd forgotten this was a class demo. He still felt he could do more reps, but before he could move, Jed racked the weight, keeping Dexter from attempting an 8th rep. He immediately felt blood surge to his chest. The pump felt amazing. "Very good son! What progress! Let's keep going. Another 10 on each side, Jed." There was a beat where Jed froze, but then he started mechanically loading the additional weight. "I don't know if..." Dexter began. "You can, son" Mr. Greer interrupted. Jed finished and took his place behind the bench. Dexter gripped the bar, took a deep breath, and pushed against the bar. It lifted off the rack. It did feel heavy. He took another breath and lowered it to his pumped swollen chest. He let it rest there just a moment and then pushed with all his might. He felt his pecs, shoulders, and triceps bulge with the effort. The bar went up! He completed a rep. It felt good. He lowers the bar for a second rep. His muscles surged upward for another successful rep, faster than the first, which he completed with a grunt. It escaped his lips before he realized it. Fuck, I can do another, he thought. He lowered the bar for a third rep. His chest felt hot. He could feel he was starting to sweat. He pushed the bar up and with another somewhat louder grunt completed the rep even faster than the second. That was three! He paused with the bar raised, panting. Sweat was beading on his forehead, but he still felt strong. He was about to lower the bar for a fourth repetition when he felt it pulled away from him. Jed had grabbed the bar and re-racked it. "Well, class, that was some textbook form even up to the end. I suspect we could push Dexter further, but we'll let him off the hook for today. Very well done, Dexter. Very well done indeed." Still on the bench, Dexter looked up at Mr. Greer who was beaming. Dexter lifted himself off the bench and slowly stood up. His eyes reached the angle they were used to seeing the world when Dexter was fully standing and then continued to rise, just a little bit. Everything seemed lower, smaller, including Mr. Greer. Dexter was looking down into his eyes. Weren't he and Mr. Greer the same height? "Thank you, Mr. Gr--” Dexter’s voice cracked. He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. He could also feel his chest, shoulders and arms filling with blood, his muscles swelling. His gym shirt was feeling tighter with each passing moment. "Thank you very much, Mr. Greer." Dexter finished. Did his voice sound deeper? "Alright, son, go ahead and finish your workout" Mr. Greer said, placing his hand on Dexter's shoulder. Dexter thought Mr. Greer's hand looked small on his shoulder, which was pumping with blood and clearly muscular under his tee shirt. "I will", Dexter responded in what to his ears sounded like an obviously deeper version of his voice. "Let's thank Jed for being a good sport about spotting." Mr. Greer offered. He and the rest of the class clapped politely. Dexter turned to look at Jed. Dexter found that he was looking Jed level in the eye. Something must be wrong -- the floor must not be level. Jed is way taller than him. Dexter raised his hands to join the clapping and felt the tightness of his tee shirt around his arms. Jed's eyes were everywhere but on Dexter, though Dexter thought he seemed nervous somehow. "Ok, let's find our next victim..." Mr. Greer continued the lesson. Dexter pulled up the lower half of his tee shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and then melted into the crowd making his way to the chest press machine to continue his workout. He definitely needed to continue working out. His pecs felt incredible. Dexter looked down at himself and observed how his pecs protruded from his chest like a shelf. He flexed and watched them ripple and bulge under his shirt. Jed watched Dexter take his place on the bench. From this perspective, Jed could not help but notice the bulges of Dexter's body even under his oversized clothing. The way his shorts draped over his legs; it was clear his quads were huge with separated musculature. Not to mention the bulge of his cock. There was a softball sized dome that caused his shorts to stretch and pucker. Jed quickly moved his eyes elsewhere, but things got no better. Dexter's pecs, shoulders, and arms looked big, way bigger than Jed would ever have thought possible. Jed tried to keep his face blank as he watched Dexter do ten reps with the bar like it was nothing. The 25's on each side barely changed things. The domes of Dexter's pecs bulged with each far-too-easy-looking repetition. When Mr. Greer suggested moving to 45's, Jed started to dread what was about to happen. Dexter completed 10 perfect reps at 135 lbs., his muscles swelling just a bit more with each contraction. Jed notices that, while Dexter was working, he had a look of absolute pleasure on his face, snapping back to reality only after the bar was re-racked. Jed was trying to think of a way to stop this, to get Dexter off the bench, when Mr. Greer suggested Dexter move up to 185 lbs. Recognizing that he missed his chance, Jed added a 25 to each side of the bar. Jed remembered seeing Dexter struggle to do a single rep with this weight last week. He was completely shocked to see Dexter push the weight off the rack like it was his normal work weight. Dexter did his first rep so easily that it appeared to surprise Dexter himself as much as it did Jed. Dexter proceeded to pump out six more reps, each perfect, his pecs swelling more and more, muscled rippling under his shirt, veins starting to become visible under the reddening skin of his forearms and neck. His seventh rep was as perfect as his first, if a bit slower. Then Dexter paused for some reason. Jed seized the opportunity to rack the weight. Jed knew he struggled more with that weight than Dexter just did -- in front of the entire class. Jed wanted this to end but didn't know how to end it. When Mr. Greer suggested to go to 195 lbs., it felt like a nightmare coming true. He could think of nothing to do, so he added the weight. Dexter grabbed the bar, pushed it off the rack, and proceed to do a solid repetition with it -- a weight that Jed knew Dexter couldn't even lift at all last week. The grunt Dexter released at the completion of his second rep caused Jed to feel something... it made him nervous. The louder grunt during the third successful rep almost caused Jed to jump. Dexter's eyes were half rolled back in pleasure. When Dexter paused for just a moment to catch his breath, Jed did the only thing he could do, grab the bar and re-rack the weight. Jed knew just as much as Mr. Greer did that Dexter could have kept going. Then Dexter stood up, and up, and up, until Jed thought he almost had to look up to meet Dexter's eyes, not that he wanted to do that. When Dexter started talking, his voice sounded more husky than squeaky, and then it cracked, and when Dexter started talking again, Jed swore Dexter's voice sounded deeper. An anxiety started growing in Jed's mind. Things got worse when Mr. Greer thanked Jed for spotting and Dexter turned towards him. Jed made a point to stretch to his full height as Dexter turned. Jed found his eyes were at best level with Dexter's. The globes of Dexter's pecs and shoulders were stretching his gym shirt. Jed may have said something in response to Mr. Greer's thanks or he may not have. When Dexter pulled up his shirt to wipe his face, he revealed a deep 8-pack of abs. The move also highlighted the way his low-hanging short were draped over the giant bulges of his quad muscles and crotch. Jed tried to unfocus his eyes, to look away, but he could not help but follow Dexter as he tried to disappear into the class. Jed was watching as Dexter flexed his pecs causing them to swell obscenely, rippling and filling his oversized shirt. Dexter felt amazing. He realized his gym shirt, which was absolutely huge on him just a couple of weeks ago, was now almost too tight. He could not stop flexing his pecs feeling them fill and stretch the shirt. He jumped on the pec deck machine and alternated sets on the machine with sets of push-ups. He quickly worked his way up to his max weight from last week and then blew past it by forty pounds. The unweighted push-ups were almost too easy, but they did serve to pump his chest to a level he never thought possible. He then moved to the cables and felt his pecs swell even further. He looked down and saw deep ridges where his upper pecs bulged from his rib cage. With each fly maneuver, his pecs and lats pulsed outward pulling his shirt tight. Dexter then moved to the dip station. He ripped through two sets of unweighted reps like they were nothing. He grabbed his weight belt and hooked 10 lbs. to it. Another set of dips. He added another 10. Another set of dips. He was starting to feel it. He added a third 10 bringing the total to 30 lbs. He proceeded to do three sets with thirty pounds of additional weight. He still felt strong, so he did a final set with a single 45 lb. plate. Fuck it felt good. Dexter realized he was lost in the feeling of it. Was he grunting? He finally looked up and saw that the class was beginning to file out of the gym. Mr. Greer waved to him, "C'mon Dex. That's all for today. You don't want to bust out of your clothes, now do you?" he asked with a smile. Dexter laughed somewhat uncomfortably and shouted back, "No Mr. Greer. Of course not." The deep voice that emanated from Dexter sounded in his ears like someone else's. The way a few class members looked back at him made him think that maybe it really was deeper. Dexter lowered his eyes and trailed the rest of the class out of the gym. He was struck again by the shelf of his pecs. He briefly flexed his upper body as he walked, pecs, lats, shoulders, biceps, and triceps. Was that a rip he just heard from his shirt? The rest of the class was a waking nightmare for Jed. Though he tried not to look, he found his eyes continually coming back to Dexter who proceeded to move more weight than Jed had ever seen him move -- in some cases more weight than Jed could probably move. Dexter's muscles bulged while he was exercised, but they bulged even more in between sets as he flexed them brazenly. Dexter was also suddenly not shy about grunting, which he did especially when he was clearly pushing past a previous max weight. What is more, his grunts did not sound right. They were too deep. The squeak in Dexter's voice was gone. Each grunt sounded deeper than the last to Jed. When he grunted during his last set of dips, with 45 lbs. of additional weight, it was so deep that Jed's brain would not accept that it came from Dexter. The rest of the class seemed to notice as well, especially when Dexter responded to Mr. Greer in a baritone that left little doubt that something had changed. Jed was somewhat relieved when Dexter lowered his eyes to follow the class from the gym. But, looking back, he caught glimpses of Dexter flexing his muscles as he walked. At the peak of the flex, Jed swore he heard fabric tearing. Jed hurried to the locker room. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He had spent the entire class spotting other student. He hadn't broken a sweat and did not need to rinse off, Jed decided. He quickly changed into his regular clothes, hoping nobody would notice that he was rushing. Dexter walked in as Jed was about to leave. Jed watched transfixed as Dexter, his eyes still on the floor, stopped in front of his locker, his back to the rest of the class, and flexed again. He expanded his entire upper body -- lats, shoulders, pecs, triceps, and biceps. Jed watched Dexter's lats expand outwards like wings, his shoulders bulged bigger than softballs. Despite the background noise of a full class of students in a changing room, Jed was sure this time he heard Dexter's shirt rip, the sound of which was echoing in Jed's mind as he exited the changing room. Dexter proceeded directly to his locker in the changing room. His body still felt amazing from the workout. He did not look up to see if anyone was paying attention to him. He thought nobody was. He stopped in front of his locker and engaged on one more flex. He could feel every muscle, especially his pecs and triceps, but thought it was his lats that caused his shirt to rip even before he was fully flexed. The ripping sound broke his trance. He aborted the flex before it caused visible damage to his shirt, if it hadn't already. Dexter thought it was a good thing he jerked off just before gym class. Otherwise, he would be getting hard. Dexter had sweat quite a bit during his workout and knew he needed a shower. He grabbed his change of clothes and a towel and entered an empty shower stall. He did not like changing in front of people, so he brought everything into the stall with him, despite the fact that it usually resulted in his putting on his clothes while he was still wet. Removing his shirt in the stall, which was much more confining than Dexter remembered, proved problematic. The sweat soaked short got stuck on his lats and shoulders as he tried to pull it over his head. It was a struggle, and he was sure he heard a rip before he got it off. He looked down at his body, which to him was bulging with muscle. He removed his shorts, turned on the hot water, and began running his hands over his body. Everything felt huge. There was muscle everywhere, especially his pecs, which looked like they were ready to leap from his chest. Fuck, he was going to get hard. He felt his cock swell and stiffen. In moments, it was fully extended pointed straight up. He looked down at his deeply carved abs, comparatively narrow waist, and his extremally large cock and lost control of himself. One hand on his cock, the other steadying against the wall of the stall, he started stroking himself. He could not help it. He hoped he was being quiet. In seconds he exploded like he had in the bathroom, spurt after spurt of his cum splashing against the tiled wall. So much cum that it ran in rivulets down the wall, gathering speed with the shower water, and finally running down the drain. Dexter finally came to his senses enough to finish showering. He took his time to flex each muscle and feel it bulge in his hands. Then came a knock against the stall. "Is that you, Dexter?" It was Mr. Greer. "Better hurry up. The bell is about to ring." "Ok, will do" Dexter responded in a baritone voice that he could still not accept was his own. He turned off the water, dried himself quickly, and then set to dressing in the clothes he had walked in here wearing. It proved much more difficult than he had anticipated. The previously oversized sweatshirt barely fit over his bulging shoulders, pecs, and arms. His pants were even worse. His cock did not want to fully deflate, on top of which he was having a tough time pulling the pant legs over his quads. The fact that his skin was not fully dry only made things worse. The bell rang just as he finally finished dressing. He burst from the stall to find Mr. Greer waiting for him. Dexter found he was looking down at Mr. Greer's eyes. They both seemed taken aback. "Alright, Dex, better make your way to lunch. You don't want to be caught in the halls." "I'll head straight there, Mr. Greer", Dexter responded in his deepening voice. "You really seem to have an aptitude for lifting, Dex" Mr. Greer said, subtly scanning Dexter from head to toe. "You may want to consider a career in the fitness industry." Dexter looked down at himself, conscious of the way his previously baggy sweatshirt was now stretched over his upper body. "Thanks, Mr. Greer. Maybe I will." Dexter suddenly realized he was starving. He practically ran to the lunchroom. Jed thought he felt people's eyes following him as he walked the halls. He reached his locker. No Cindy. He threw his gym clothes inside and headed towards the cafeteria, bracing himself for what he might find there. Sure enough, Cindy was there. She was already seated at a table with food surrounded by her friends. The sight of her stopped Jed in his tracks. She and he locked eyes for half a heartbeat, then she looked away. Her friends noticed Jed and proceeded to huddle around Cindy like they were protecting her from an attacker. Jed was blocking an entrance to the cafeteria and people started pushing around him. He thought he heard Dexter's name floating amongst the chatter in the hallway behind him. "...you seen Dexter today?... huge!... ripped his shirt..." Jed spotted a couple of his friends in line for food. They ended up at their usual table. His friends were peppering him with questions, not just about Cindy, but also Dexter. They heard about gym class. Jed wouldn't say anything. Cindy, only at the far end of the next table over wouldn't even look in his direction. Finally, she did look towards him, but not at him. She was looking past him to the entrance to the cafeteria. Dexter was entering the room, eyes on the floor, almost jogging towards the line for food. The line was short by the time Dexter got there. He kept grabbing food, plate after plate of it, piled precariously high on his tray. It looked like at least three helpings of everything. He threw some money at the cashier then hurried off to his corner table with a handful of other misfits. They might have said a few words to him, but Dexter tore into his food shoveling mouthful after mouthful into his mouth. Jed wasn't sure why, but it was making him anxious watching Dexter wolf down all that food. Bite after bite after bite. Jed looked down at his own barely eaten plate of food and suddenly realized he had no appetite. His anxiety grew into something closer to abstract fear as he watched Dexter spend the next half hour shoveling plate after plate of food into his mouth, his jaw muscles working efficiently and furiously. People started filing out. Lunch was almost over. The entire senior class had to meet in the assembly room for a presentation about graduation. Jed's friends got up to leave and he followed them. As he was exiting the cafeteria, he looked back to see Dexter finishing his lunch by chugging an entire bottle of water in one unbroken gulp. Food! Every step towards the cafeteria caused Dexter's hunger to increase. It reached an overwhelming crescendo just as he reached the front of the cafeteria line. Everything looked so good, and he was so hungry. He piled so much food on his tray, he wasn't sure how much was there. He just hoped it would be enough. The cashier charged him for three full meals, a price Dexter gladly paid. He raced to his corner table where he and the other unpopular kids ate together. They might not be all friends, but they were at least friendly to each other. Not that any of that mattered to Dexter in the current moment. All he wanted to do was eat this food, which he did as soon as he took his seat. For the next half hour, all he could think about was shoveling the food down his throat. He had never been so hungry! He was used to his workouts increasing his appetite, but this was more than he had ever experienced. His body wanted every bite, every morsel of food that he had taken - three Salisbury steaks, a mountain of mashed potato, and piles of steamed vegetables. All of it was overcooked, but he didn't care. His body craved it. When he was finally finished, he up-ended his bottle of water and drank it all down. Dexter realized the rest of the kids at his table were staring at him. The expressions on their faces were somewhat inscrutable. The girls were looking at him in a way that confused Dexter. "What? I was hun..." His voice cracked again. "I was hungry", he finished in what might have been an even deeper version of his voice. "Obviously" one of the guys said. "Well, you've got muscles to feed" one of the girls started, "or so we've... heard." Her eyes were glued to Dexter's chest. "What?" Dexter said, suddenly feeling drowsy. "I've gotta go. We've got an assembly." "Did his voice always sound like that?" he thought he heard a girl ask as Dexter rose from the table, leaving his tray and stack of plates behind, and made his way towards the assembly room. The halls were a blur. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was sleep. Also, his sweatshirt was too tight. It was catching under his armpits and at his chest and he could feel it squeezing his upper arms. He flexed his biceps watching as the peak stretched the sweatshirt to its limit. He finally made it to the assembly room, which was more than half full by the time he got there. There were empty seats up front. He took one near the corner where it was darkest, propped his head on his hand, and melted into sleep. Jed spotted Cindy seated near the middle of the assembly room, flanked by her friends on either side. The seats behind her were empty. Jed pushed his way through the crowd of students and took the seat directly behind her. A few of Jed's friends filtered in his row after him. From this angle, Jed had a perfect view of Cindy's amazing tits jutting almost arrogantly from her chest. She was wearing a tiny top that hugged her fit body in all the right ways. Several inches of well-toned abs were exposed above her tight jeans. She had no right to ignore him. Jed leaned forward and started to say, "You can't ignore me, you..." but before could get it out, Cindy leapt from her seat and stepping over her friends moved almost to the end of her row as far as she could quickly get from Jed. Jed was considering stepping over his friends to get to her when he saw Dexter walk down the far aisle. He passed by Cindy and took a seat near the front, not far from her. Jed watched as Dexter sat and quickly passed out. Jed also noticed two other things. One, he noticed that Dexter's shoulders were a lot wider than his seat back. Two, he noticed that Cindy was also watching Dexter. In fact, she was staring. She was erect in her seat, back arched, stretching to get a better view. Her chest was heaving slightly, her breasts silhouetted in prominent display. Jed was vaguely aware that the assembly presentations had begun. As they droned, the minutes dragged on and on and on. Cindy barely looked away from Dexter. When she did, it appeared as if she was forcing her eyes forward like she was fighting with herself to look away. Each time she did, within moments she was back staring at Dexter. She never once looked back at Jed. Who the fuck did she think she was? She could not treat him this way. Dexter slept through the entire assembly. He shifted every few minutes, the stadium style seating not designed for comfortable sleep. With each repositioning, Jed thought Dexter looked less comfortable, not more, like his body was struggling to fit inside a space too small for it. Dexter stretched in his sleep reaching his arms upward. Jed noticed that there was exposed wrist between the end of Dexter's sweatshirt sleeves and his hands. The assembly proceeded tortuously, Jed's gaze alternating between Dexter and Cindy. Finally, the assembly was over, and the bell rang. Dexter did not stir. Cindy did, the bell seeming to wake her from a reverie. She finally did look back at Jed. Anxiety spread over her previously serene expression. She jumped from her seat and made swiftly for the doors at the back of the assembly room. This time, Jed did step over his friends to follow her. Shoving his way through the crowd, he caught her in the hall outside. Furious, he grabbed her arm and spun her around. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling with each respiration. Her trim abs, tones arms, and shapely athletic legs were evident even through her jeans. Jed's voice caught in his throat for a moment, but he mastered himself and practically yelled, "What the fuck, Cindy? You can't treat me like this. Who the fuck do you think you are??" She did not say a word but glared at him. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She looked past and over Jed, her expression changing from one of anger to one of amazement. Jed felt something behind him. Without looking, he felt he knew what -- who -- it was. Dexter woke slowly from what was a pleasant dreamless slumber. His body felt relaxed. He stood to stretch, bumping his knees on the seat on front of him. Like earlier today, his visual perspective went up and up, past where it was yesterday, still up, past where it was this morning, still up, past even where it was when he fell asleep! He reached for a full stretch and was conscious of his sweatshirt riding up his mid-section, his hands stretching past the ends of the sleeves. He felt cool air around his ankles and looking down noted that his pants did not reach his shoes. His jeans, formerly baggy, were stretched over his calves and even more so over his thighs. Neither his jeans nor sweatshirt were tight at his waist, but when he lowered his arms, he felt the sweatshirt bunch around his chest leaving most of his med-section exposed. He pulled the sweatshirt down and found it would not reach his waist. In fact, it could barely contain his upper body, the globes of his shoulders, twin domes of his pecs, and thick full lats all strained against the nearly over-matched fabric of the sweatshirt. Dexter flexed slightly watched his pecs dance, the sweatshirt clinging to them in a way not wholly different from how Cindy's top clung to her breasts. Dexter was suddenly aware that his cock felt constricted. He looked down and beheld a truly massive bulge at his crotch on obscene display despite his jeans. Dexter looked around and noticed the last of the class leaving the assembly room. They all looked smaller. Everything looked smaller. He followed them outside to find a crowd of students huddled around something. He continued to stride forward and was surprised that the people in his path, when they noticed him, looked at him, looked up at him, and moved quickly out of his way. Dexter found himself walking up behind Jed who seemed to be in an altercation with a furious looking Cindy. As Dexter approached, Cindy locked eyes with him, her expression changing instantly from one of fury to one of eagerness. As he got closer, Dexter realized he was taller than Jed now. Dexter closed the gap coming within inches of Jed, able to look completely over Jed's head to Cindy and the gawking crowd beyond. Jed turned around and found himself staring at what had become his worst nightmare -- Dexter. His eyes were level with Dexter's mouth. Jed's chin was practically resting on a shelf of pec muscle that was so big and perfectly formed as to be almost inhuman. It rose and fell with each of Dexter's slow calm breaths. When Dexter spoke, Jed knew his life was changed forever. "Leaver Cindy alone, Jed." Dexter said in a deep confident voice, which reverberated in Jed's own chest nearly knocking the wind out of him. Dexter was huge! Neither his sweatshirt nor his jeans could hide the protruding muscles beneath. His sleeves, stretched over his muscled arms, did not reach his hands. The gap between Dexter's sweatshirt and jeans revealed inches of muscled abs. Dexter's jeans struggled to contain the immense bulges of Dexter's quads and the obscene bulge at his crotch. Jed, struggling with a growing abject terror, thought that with each breath, Dexter grew a bit more. Soon, his clothes would split revealing a horrifically muscled body. Jed became frantic. His fight instinct kicked in. He panted a foot behind himself, then thrust off it to tackle Dexter to the floor. The collision may have hurt Jed more than it hurt Dexter! Dexter's mid-section was hard as a rock! Whether Dexter was surprised by the attack or simply did not care, Dexter went down with Jed on top of him in a classic school-boy pin, straddling Dexter with his hands on Dexter's wrists to trap his arms. "Fuck you, Dexter! You stay away from us!" There was a brief moment of silence. "Fuck me?" Dexter responded. A smile crept over his face. "Fuck me?" Dexter slowly bent his arms in a double bicep flex. Jed tried to stop him, but found he was easily overpowered. Dexter barely seemed to notice Jed's strained effort. Dexter's upper arms expanded, his bicep peaks pushing against the fabric of his sweatshirt. Halfway through the flex, his sweatshirt began to rip over his emerging biceps. "Fuck me? No Jed." Dexter completed his flex, the entirety of his biceps ripping into view. They were massive and defined with peaks that jutted so high they met with Dexter's mid-forearms at full flex. The sleeves of Dexter's sweatshirt were in tatters. "Fuck you!" Dexter exclaimed as he flipped Jed over as easily as an older brother might toy with a younger sibling, reversing the school-boy pin leaving Dexter on top and Jed on the bottom. "Fuck you, Jed!" Then Dexter's expression changed, a pleasure seeming to wash over it, his eyes rolling back, his eyelids fluttering. Holy Fuck, Dexter was so much stronger than Jed! Jed couldn't do anything to stop him! Jed's pathetic attempt to stop Dexter's bicep flex was barely even noticed! Then, he flipped Jed over like it was nothing! Dexter looked down at Jed cowering beneath him, Dexter's hugely muscled arms flexing and swelling as they held Jed easily and firmly in place. Dexter knew his weight was more than enough to keep Jed's waist pinned to the floor. Dexter could feel the violent bulge of his massive cock pressing into Jed's comparatively soft and yielding stomach. Dexter was so fucking strong! It felt so fucking good! Dexter's cock started to expand, his bulge pressing deeply into Jed's stomach, which yielded before it. Dexter was getting hard, and he didn't even care. His cock bulged more deeply into Jed's stomach. Dexter's cock grew and lengthened, stretching his underwear to its limit. Dexter heard a ripping sound and felt his cock thrust through his underwear and snake down his leg, inexorably making room for itself between Dexter's massive quadricep and Jed's waist. It grew and grew and grew. Dexter was lost in the pleasure of it. He did not even notice the look of abject horror that spread across Jed's face or Jed's frantic attempts to escape. Without realizing it, Dexter began thrusting himself against Jed sending waves of pleasure throughout Dexter's own body. Jed felt something pressing into his stomach and looked down to see Dexter's massive bulge, pressed against him, growing obscenely. Vainly struggling to escape, Jed watched in horror as Dexter's bulge grew and grew. Jed heard the ripping sound of Dexter's underwear and felt Dexter's massive penis expand against his waist. Then, Dexter started thrusting against him! "Get off me! Get off me!!" Jed screamed, flailing violently in a desperate attempt to escape, whose only effect was causing Dexter's pec and arm muscles to flex and bulge as they easily hold Jed in place. Dexter kept thrusting. Jed was about to scream again when Cindy suddenly appeared alongside Dexter. Dexter was snapped to consciousness by a gentle touch on his shoulder and the scent of perfume reaching his nose. Dexter's head whipped to his side to see Cindy crouching beside him, one hand on his shoulder. Her breasts were heaving. A tiny bead of sweat rolled down her neck, then gathering speed, plunged between her more than ample breasts. "Dexter", she said breathlessly. Dexter's eyes were drawn to her nipples, which were suddenly very visible beneath her thin clothing, "Leave him. Let's get out of here. C'mon. Let's go!" Dexter looked down at Jed, who looked absolutely terrified. His eyes were darting from Dexter to Cindy and back. Dexter had Jed by the wrists. Dexter squeezed. His forearms, biceps, and triceps bulged incredibly, his corded forearm muscles, peaked biceps, and striated triceps standing out in bold relief. Jed squealed in pain. Cindy pulled on Dexter's shoulder, and he let her drag him to his feet. She took his hand and led Dexter swiftly down the hall and out the main entrance of the school. Nobody tried to stop them. She ran straight for her car motioning for Dexter to get in the passenger seat. It was a tight fit. Dexter's head nearly brushed up against the roof. Cindy started the car and sped away. She drove out to the main road and followed it for just a minute to the parking lot of a local church, which was unused at this time of day. She pulled around back where there was some relative privacy, shut off the car, and turned to face Dexter. She was panting slightly, her unbelievable breasts, barely contained by her top which seemed painted on, filled Dexter's vision. "Dexter", she said, "You stood up to Jed to protect me." "Of course, I did", Dexter responded in his new baritone, "I would do anything for you." She leapt at him, and they proceeded to devour each other in an overwhelming fit of passion. Dexter had never kissed like this before. Their hands and lips and tongues were all over each other. A metallic creak drew their attention to Dexter's cock, which had just surged, destroying the zipper of his jeans. "Holy fuck" Cindy exclaimed and then ripped Dexter's jeans open in one motion. She extricated Dexter's hardening cock from his tattered underwear and held it as it grew, lengthening and thickening and lengthening inch by inch until it stood straight up, erect, nearly a foot long and still growing. "Oh my god", she breathed as she leaned forward and plunged Dexter's massive erection into her mouth. The moment her lips touched his cock, Dexter experienced a feeling he never had before. Cindy moaned scandalously as she slurped furiously at his dick. It barely fit inside her mouth, but she forced her head downward until Dexter's cock was thrust down her throat. Dexter would have cum instantly had he not done so twice already since he arrived at school. Cindy's head bobbed up and down, Dexter's cock continuing to swell. At the top of each motion, Cindy's head was a fraction higher until Dexter's cock had, reaching its full height and girth, lengthened by inches and become so thick it was impossibly tight inside Cindy's hungry moaning mouth. Cinder broke from Dexter and set to desperately ripping her clothes off. In the blink of an eye, she was out of her top. Her breasts finally set free appeared to float in midair. Her nipples were as erect as Dexter's penis and were every bit as impressive. She then quickly but with some difficulty peeled off her jeans, which caught on her shapely athletic thighs. Her panties came off as well, exposing her trimmed pussy, the inviting smell of which immediately wafted to Dexter's nose. In one graceful movement, she straddled Dexter. With each hand, she grabbed a handful of Dexter's tattered sweatshirt and ripped it fully apart exposing Dexter's insanely muscled torso. She then thrust her boob in Dexter's face. Instinctively, Dexter took her erect nipple in his mouth and sucked. Cindy released a full-throated moan of pleasure as her nipple expanded to full prominence wrapped in the warmth of Dexter's lips. She positioned her now dripping pussy against the head of Dexter's tremendous cock. She paused for just a moment, then thrust herself downward, and Dexter was inside of her. Cindy's second full-throated moan was joined by an equally full-throated, but much deeper one, from Dexter. Dexter's grips on Jed's wrists were like vices. Then he squeezed sending lancing pain through Jed's arms. The cry of pain escaped Jed's lips involuntarily. He thought his bones may have snapped. Then Dexter was gone, being led down the hallway by Cindy. Half the crowd was watching them go, while the other half looked down at Jed with a mixture of pity and horror. The only thing Jed knew was that he needed to get out of there. Now knowing where else to go, he leapt up and raced after Dexter and Cindy. He burst from the main entrance just as Cindy was closing the door of her car behind her. He could see Dexter's massive bulk in the passenger seat. Like he was caught in a nightmare, Jed ran to his car, jumped inside, and raced after Cindy and Dexter to the church parking lot. They did not notice him pull up nearby. He saw everything. He saw Cindy and Dexter kissing passionately. He saw Cindy rip off Dexter's clothing and her own. He saw her bury her head in Dexter's lap, her head momentarily disappearing, then bobbing into view, up and down, higher each time, until at the low point of her motion it almost looked from Jed's vantage point like she was kissing the rim of the car door, then bobbing upward revealing inch after inch of Dexter's massive cock visible over the door's rim. Jed's jaw dropped as Cindy, in one graceful maneuver, positioned herself over Dexter's erect penis and then thrust herself downward, taking all of it inside herself. The next five minutes were filled with the most furious sex Jed had ever beheld. They fucked like wild animals to the soundtrack of Cindy's melodious moans and Dexter's terrifying deep ones. The two of them completely filled the passenger seat of Cindy's car, which was bouncing up and down with the dangerous fury of a streetcar that has careened off-road at full speed. Cindy and Dexter were bracing themselves with their hands against the car door and ceiling. Amidst their moans and grunts and the squealing of the car's shocks and brakes, Jed thought he heard the creaking of metal. He thought he saw the roof of the car and the passenger door buckle outward where Cindy and Dexter were bracing themselves. After the most interminable five minutes of Jed's life, Cindy and Dexter came together, the pair of them roaring in unison for almost another minute. Finally, it was over. Cindy collapsed on Dexter's massive, muscled form, their panting subsiding into the deep slow breathing reserved for those who have just experienced ultimate physical bliss. Jed, overwhelmed, broke into tears, turned his car around, and sped away, sobbing...
    4 points
  21. For his sake I'm glad that Deano at least reconciled with Shaun and somewhat with Adam before leaving. Woody'll be tougher later on maybe. And now the MU boys are off to Shi-car-go to strut their stuff! Great job, MA!
    4 points
  22. 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.
    4 points
  23. 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.
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