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EROTICA A story inspired by the (slightly modified) lyrics to the Madonna song from the album and SEX book versions. Shout out to @Wrestlejock646 who inspired the idea of using song lyrics as inspiration, even if he didn’t know it at the time. You can always “hit me with your rhythm stick,” mate, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.” ========== ~ ONE ~ I’ve never done anything like this before, but it was well past time. I was already bored with my life as it was, the COVID-19 pandemic just took that boredom to the Nth degree. I am apparently in an 'extremely high risk' category when it comes to COVID-19, or so my doctor tells me. Based on the delta strain, I had an approximately 25% chance of death unvaccinated, dropping to ‘only’ 11% for double dosed, 8% for triple dosed, and 1% for four doses (with no data yet on more than four doses). The omicron variant, and the BA.4 and BA.5 sub variants were much milder, so presumably the risk for me now is somewhere south of 1% (now that I’ve had four doses). With those kind of odds, and the delta strain running rampant throughout 2021, and most of 2020 still full of unknowns - how deadly was it really? - I spent over two years from March 2020 confined to my house, no visitors, no shopping, pretty much total isolation. Thank fuck for the Internet - not just for day to day essentials like groceries, which I had delivered, but for social contact. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the ability to video chat with friends and family, and the ability to mutually jerk off with someone on camera, but, let’s face it, it’s a poor substitute for sexy times with a real, live human being, touching, stroking, kissing, caressing, licking, sucking, penetrating… you know, all the good things, all the arousing things. So I hadn’t had sex, real with-an-actual-person sex in nearly two and a half years. I’ve already said I was bored with my life before the pandemic, I was also bored with my sex life. I’m attractive enough, I suppose. I’m 186cm (6’1”) tall, and weigh 78kg (172lbs). I have no idea what my body fat percentage is, but I have visible abs and like to keep in shape. I’m of Mediterranean stock, so I have dark features - deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, and an olive complexion. I hate shaving with a razor, so keep my beard trimmed to a constant state of stubble of varying lengths, depending on how long since the last trim. But my sex life was pretty vanilla. I mean, a flip fuck or two is as kinky as it ever got - insert the Neil deGrasse Tyson ‘we’ve got a badass over here’ meme, right. I’ve never had a threesome or group sex, never used toys, never even really gotten rough. I DID say, ‘pretty vanilla’. But recently, I’ve been craving more. NEEDING more. I wanted to be dominated, I wanted kink. Maybe not hardcore BDSM, but I wanted things to get a bit rough, a bit outside my vanilla comfort zone. I also wanted muscle, someone to take control, use his strength, his power to put me in my place. Use me and abuse me, overpower me. I’m getting hard just describing it, I could only imagine what it would be like in reality. I found an ‘escort’ that sounded perfect. If he lived up to his description, it was going to be money well spent, arousal guaranteed. I was slightly nervous, because he had no photos. Not just not showing his face. No photo, at all. The description claimed he didn’t like putting up his photo because it created certain expectations, if it didn’t scare off the potential client, and he didn’t want any preconceptions to ruin what should be organic discovery, mutual exploration and pushing of boundaries. It sounded HOT, exactly what I was looking for. But anyone can put up a profile saying anything. So I had no idea what he looked like but, as I sat in the hotel bar, nursing a drink nervously, he knew what I looked like, insisting on a picture showing my face and a shirtless pic showing my top half. “Excuse me, Robert?” A deep, resonant, mellifluous voice. A powerful voice, commanding; used to getting his way. I turned my face up towards the voice, which was behind and to my right. My mouth dried up and gaped, my heart skipped a few beats then started racing, my dick chubbed. “Y-“ My voice cracked, because of course it did. I cleared my throat. “Yes.” “My name is Dieter. I’ll be your master tonight.”

A short story I thought of as I was writing my other, slightly longer story, Vaccinated. Hope you enjoy. ———————————— THE BARBELL I was one of the first members to join this new gym. It opened just this week, around the corner from my house, which was awesome. My old gym was a 20 minute drive away and, honestly, I didn’t go nearly as often as I should have. I’ve always been a sucker for muscles. The bigger, the more vascular, the hornier I become. Ever since my first experience masturbating, muscle has turned me on. That first ever experience cumming was masturbating to a famous bodybuilder cum actor whose nickname may or may not rhyme with Barney in a movie title that may or may not rhyme with Bone-an. I’d imagined myself with those massive arms, the broad shoulders, the fucking hot X shape that the biggest bodybuilders get - V shaped upper bodies, tiny waists broadening to huge flared lats and shoulders, and ^ shaped lower bodies, tiny waists broadening out to massive, sweeping quads. Ever since that first point of no return, this weird, white, sticky stuff pumping from my dick, my mind cemented the connection between bodybuilders and muscle, arousal and sex. I had always wanted to emulate those monsters, my entire body like an erect cock, covered in veins and pumped, hard muscles, masses of testosterone making my dick hard and leaking pre 24/7. If I had a body like that, I could turn myself on and make myself cum at any time, a quick twist of the wrist, and my forearm belly would expand, striations and vascularity popping through the skin, a massive root system of veins branching down from my huge bicep. Unfortunately, I do not look like a bodybuilder. More like a twig. A tall sapling. Despite years of trying to eat and train like a bodybuilder, my body just refuses to put on any mass. But I persist, because I love the feel of lifting. The pump you sometimes get, the feeling of euphoria, the feeling of invincibility - there’s nothing quite like it. I’ve looked into steroids many times, but I live in a country bumpkin town - there are no sources anywhere near me, and I don’t trust ordering online. Who knows what they’ll give you? And, there’s the whole illegality thing - signposting your activity by providing an easy paper trail doesn’t seem like the smartest idea. So I train hard, eat right, and hope that one day, somehow, my body will explode with muscle and fulfil my fantasy. I entered the gym. It was deserted. It was not staffed, which reduced the membership dues, and because it was so new, I’m guessing it did not have many members on its roster. All membership sign ups, renewals and queries were done online. The wonders of technology. I went to the change rooms and changed into my workout gear. I warmed up on a treadmill and headed to the weight room. Everything was shiny and new - literally shiny. The scuffs and scrapes of well-worked gym equipment totally absent. Today was back day, so I went over to the barbell racks. It was all what the typical decently-equipped gym would have. A few bench press benches, some standalone benches, a rack of fixed dumbbells, a single squat rack (that could be annoying during busy periods), but then something caught my eye. In the far dimly-lit corner, sitting alone, isolated from all the other equipment, was a wall-mounted rack, with a single, unloaded Olympic barbell. Unlike the typical barbell, this one was jet black, with a completely matt finish. The black was so dark, it seemed to absorb all the light around it and, in fact, I noted it wasn’t that the lighting in this corner was any different to the rest of the gym, the bar was absorbing the light, making the corner dimmer than the rest of the gym. Odd. I ignored the strange bar, wondering what it was for. Must be some specialised equipment - I resolved to look it up online and see what it was used for, maybe I could expand my routine. I loaded up a standard bar to warm up weight for my first set of deadlifts. As I stepped up to the bar and prepared myself mentally, I thought I could hear someone whispering. I looked around - there was no-one here, the gym was still totally deserted. Must be hearing things, I thought. No, there it was again. Use the black bar. Who was saying that? I shrugged it off and prepared to lift. THE BLACK BAR. Whoa, that was… intense. I guess I should use the black barbell. I walked over to the corner and examined it more closely. Apart from the colour, it seemed to be a standard Olympic barbell, same size and shape, but it did have some odd markings engraved at the very ends of the bar before the sleeves. I did not know what language it was, but it looked like some sort of Arabic, or maybe Sanskrit script. I grabbed the bar to pick it up. A massive jolt of power ran through my arms and up into my brain, transporting my mind to another dimension. “PUNY HUMAN! You have found the key to my dimension, and the key to my freedom. If you will agree to free me, I will grant you any wish you desire. But, if you free me, I will wreak havoc and destruction the likes of which your dimension has never seen.” What the fuck? I must be dreaming. I willed myself to wake up. “PUNY HUMAN, you are not dreaming. I sense your desire. I can give you everything you seek, and more. All you have to do is agree to free me.” “I don’t believe you can do anything. If you’re so powerful, why don’t you free yourself.” I thought. He did NOT like that. “I WILL DESTROY YOU, YOU IMPUDENT GNAT! You dare to question my power?” “I do,” I thought, “If you’re as powerful as you say, you could make me into a mass monster, a vascular, jacked, pumped beast, easily able to add muscle mass almost at will.” A thin tendril of power snaked towards me. As it touched my workout shorts, the shorts disintegrated, followed quickly by my briefs. The tendril wrapped itself around my balls, an intense feeling of wellbeing and arousal growing my cock to full mast. The tendril wrapped itself around my shaft, from base to tip like an anaconda asphyxiating its prey, and entered through the meatus of my cock. I orgasmed, instantly, at the feeling of power flooding through me. The tendril burrowed down through my cock, and nestled into my balls. I was ready to explode, but I hadn’t experienced anything yet. As I watched, the tendril swelled with power, stretching my urethra and growing inside my balls, sending masses of power flooding through my body. The demon flicked a finger, and the tendril swelled with his limitless power. I screamed in pleasure and pain, my entire body rigid with the power, my balls swelling to four times their usual size, my cock tripling in size as the tendril’s power stretched it. Then, I felt it, it started in my traps, massive walls of muscle rose up to meet the bottom of my ears, my neck swelled with power, muscles flexing and writhing as they grew. My shoulders broadened, the deltoids forming a massive cap. He flicked his finger again, more energy, more power flooding through the tendril into my cock and balls to the rest of my body. I screamed in pleasure and pain. My arms swelled, the peaks of my biceps split, triceps rounding out my now huge arms, my forearms swelled to bigger than the average man’s quads. YEEEEEEES! MORE! “As you wish, human.” Not so puny any more. The power increased, muscles upon muscles packing onto my frame. As I came, the tendril absorbed my cum, feeding its power back into my body. UNNNNGGHH! MOOOOOORE! The demon flicked all five fingers, the tendril swelling massively, its diameter now nearly as big as my newly grown forearms. As the new power reached my cock, I screamed as it stretched my cock, the massive flow of power almost struggling to invade me, grow me, imbue me with its power. The pain was unbearable; the pleasure indescribable. My entire body reshaped itself to accommodate my new bulk, my new strength, my new power. My calves were bigger than my quads used to be. My quads swept out to inhuman proportions, massive veins covering every inch of muscle, my cock and balls pushed out obscenely as the quads continued growing. My abs formed massive cobblestone-like, prominent bricks so tall my fingers almost couldn’t reach the bottom of the canyons between them. My back writhed as mounds of muscle rose up. And, speaking of mounds, my pecs mounded up, fighting with each other and my arms for space. But I still wanted more. I wanted the demon’s power for myself. “Pitiful human, you can’t handle my power.” Oh no? Try me. “Very well, don’t say you weren’t warned.” A massive torrent of power surged through the – well, it wasn’t a tendril any more, it was a huge pipeline, pumping power from the demon, through my cock and into me. I grew as the power increased, every inch of my body covered in muscle, vascularity. I exuded power. And, now that I had the demon’s power, I had no further use for him. I severed the connection to the demon, and reverted my mind back to my now insanely powerful body back in the gym. I smiled as I grabbed my heavy package, my balls heaving with power, my arm a dense, muscular pillar of power, covered in a vast network of veins. I groan in pleasure, cumming at the sight of my own magnificence, at the feeling of my own muscles flexing, my own veins engorging. There was one last loose end to tie up - the bar. I didn’t want anyone else taking advantage of any residual powers the demon might still have. As I finished cumming, a tendril of power snaked out of my cock, wrapping itself around the entire length of the bar, crushing it and absorbing the remnants. As the tendril made its way back inside my cock, I thought of who I would grow first.