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  1. DennisFLL

    Jolias & Mike

    Hi guys. This is the first posting of a story that I am making to the Forum. Years ago I started reading Pasidious’s stories and recognized his very talented writing skills. His “Jolias Finally Lets Go” captured me, loving his creation of the main character, Jolias, with his endearing sense of humor, honesty, muscular-sexiness, and romantic side. I copied it to my word processor and edited it to suit my imagination’s need for total realism as well as to fit what gets my libido really going. If you’re familiar with the original story you will for sure recognize a lot of it here since there were many great scenes where I changed only a little. I have obtained Pasidious’s permission to post it and would appreciate any comments you may have on my revised version. Dennis JOLIAS & MIKE PART 1 FROM MIKE'S POINT OF VIEW: The first time I laid eyes on him, my whole world changed forever. Never had I seen a guy that was so stunningly handsome and insanely hot! He was in my American History class during my first ever semester of college. That first day and my schedule weirdly only had a single class. That one night class. It was strange walking to a classroom building at 5:45pm. I was already on a form of auto-pilot, just letting my legs guide me to my first scheduled college class so I could get it over with. I remember entering the room and the professor was overly enthusiastic about greeting each student as we walked in. He didn't even look like a professor, either. Relatively young guy who wore casual clothes like he was just going on a trip to the supermarket. Which, honestly, helped me stay relaxed about what to expect. I usually expect professors to be stiff and boring and strict. But, the professor greeted me and handed me a syllabus personally, and I did a brief glance at it as I allowed my legs to continue to guide me to a seat in the back of the room. But then I had to stop and realize the amount of us in the class seemed kind of small, and I'd definitely be the very odd one out if I chose a seat in the back while everyone else was several seats in front of me. And the professor would surely ask me to sit closer anyway. So I did a bit of a half-spin and selected a seat closer up. I dropped my satchel on the floor. Gently, of course, and took the seat. Now, being a bit of an introvert, I always try to avoid making any type of eye-contact with others when in a new environment. So, up until this point, I hadn't even actually looked at a single other student in the room. I knew they were there through periphery, and of course I heard them, but I wasn't actually paying any real attention to them. Until now. I had my new syllabus on top of my desk, and I was about to get my still clean notebook out of my satchel to prepare for the class when I happen to catch a glimpse of the guy who had taken the seat right next to mine a few minutes earlier. I sort of did one of those double-take things. Like, I looked at him, then back down at where I needed my hands to go, then my heart thudded in my chest, my relatively small dick enlarged, and my eyes immediately were drawn back to where they'd briefly landed before. He was just... casually sitting in his seat. His notebook was already on his desk, and he was fiddling with the pen in his right hand, letting it flip between his fingers. I know, from Internet experience, that those are the thick gym-trained muscular fingers of a guy that spends a lot of time in the gym. I find them extremely sexy as it indicates the guy lifts huge weights. And a lot of the time. His eyes were looking forward, and it was clear he was just zoned out, waiting for the beginning of the class, and bored that it wasn’t yet. He was wearing a hoodie that was zipped almost all the way up, but you could still see his T-shirt, which was black with a white insignia. His complexion was tanned, obviously spending time in the sun, and I could see he had these cute little freckles on his cheeks. I took a deep breath as I looked him over and saw that this major-hot male specimen, sitting so close to me, was indeed gorgeous! He had a small nose that fit his face perfectly, and his hair was this shaggy, dark brown that somewhat covered his ears. His arms and chest looked massive and his shoulders were extremely broad, slimming to what appeared to be a very small, in comparison, waist. And he had on these amazing light blue jeans that were perfectly clinging to his legs, showing off the size and contours of them. And, of course I looked, and saw there was the outline of what could definitely be the largest dick I’ve ever seen. And on the Internet you see enormous ones on the right porn site and this stud’s looked much bigger. I viewed a thick snake going almost all the way to his knee, and there, at his immense dick’s crown, you could even make out his religion. He was literally breathtaking! So beautiful and enormously sexy. Very, very hot. And it was like... imagine having a TV screen that gets cracked into a thousand little lines all over it, except for one single spot that's still intact and clear. That was my new vision and he was the only thing in that one clear spot. My heart was pounding and I wanted to desperately lick him all over. And then, in a deep muscular voice…."'Sup dude?" Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. My attention had been on him for so long he understandably noticed the skinny weirdo next to him staring at him. Maybe even seeing me salivating over him? I wanted to see him so desperately without him wearing all those clothes. There might be some major muscle underneath them and I just had to see it. I immediately diverted my attention elsewhere, anywhere, and uttered a swift "Umm,” which came out in a high pitch. So I followed it up with a much deeper, “Hey." I heard him chuckle at what I just did, and to distract myself I shuffled through my satchel to finally get my notebook out. He chuckled again at that too! He knew that I was extremely uncomfortable with being caught staring, so he continued to stare at me for a while. Oh my gosh, was he flirting? But that was it. He didn't say anything else. The class began and we went through the usual first day things. But then, of course, it went well beyond that, since this one class was the equivalent of three regular classes. But the entire time, throughout the professor's lecturing and assigning of work, I couldn't help but steal glances at the Adonis-dude next to me. He diligently took notes and would sometimes doodle in his notebook. He definitely had this smoldering quality. A certain type of heat resonating from his sexiness. And I just so badly wanted my hands and lips all over his physique. He was fully clothed, but I just knew/desperately hoped that he was a bodybuilder and I wanted to muscle-worship him and give his tremendous bodybuilder-dick the deepest blow-job he’s ever gotten, which I was sure had to be very many, since he had to get them all the time. When a guy is huge like him and has a fat face he’s going to be a fatty, not muscular. But this guy’s waist, which I can easily see is half the size of his shoulders, means he’s major-muscular. Simple logic for an experienced muscle-addict like me. And his face had no fat, just handsome chiseled features. His presence alone, knowing that this beautiful guy was next to me, was so enrapturing that I hadn't even noticed that I was so painfully hard that I was now even leaking. My small-sized cock was so hard and pressed against the confines of my pants that it had begun to hurt. The throbbing had reached a point that I could no longer ignore it, and it sent jolts up my body that I finally now noticed. I imagined him coming to my dorm, entering my room, slamming the door swiftly behind him and locking it. Strutting very confidently in, smirking at me as I lay in my bed, and with such dominance, in one cool move, pulled his black tee-shirt over his head revealing a remarkably developed sexy bodybuilder physique underneath, with bulging striated pecs, rippling cobbled abs and huge bulging biceps. He then put his damp shirt to my face for me to sniff, but then stuffed it in my mouth as we removed our clothes. He then flexed just a little, dancing his hard pectorals with their sexy striations showing me that his strength was a hundred times mine. He simply smirked at me, knowing how very superior to me he was and that I knew it already. His blazingly hot and simultaneously very handsome face making me quiver. Then I saw his dick! It was immense, as muscular as all his other muscles. He then confidently and dominatingly reached back and lifted my legs up to my shoulders, positioning himself to enter my hole with his enormous dick for his greatest pleasure. It’s like he does this many times a day and it’s just all so automatic. I closed my eyes, his throbbing muscular rod, twelve inches of thick, hard, pure sex, about to plunge into my ass where it should always belong. And as soon as his bodybuilder-dick’s massive crown entered me I start to feel the enormous pain, but can’t scream as his shirt is stuffing my mouth. "Ummm!" I'm startled out of my little daydream. I notice that my crotch feels very wet and my cock is still painfully hard. But then I notice eyes on me, and the professor himself is the one who called out to get my attention. I'd been leaking pre so profusely I felt like I might actually have blown my load. "You okay there, bud?" I was shaken, to say the least, but also embarrassed that I'd allowed myself to become so entrenched in my own daydream that I'd forgotten I was even in a class. And the object of my fantasy was still sitting right beside me, his eyes also upon me, and I could see through my peripheral vision that he had a seemingly very amused look on his face. I wanted to just disappear. Not just die, but to cease from ever existing. "Uhhh..." I managed to get out, frantically searching in my brain for some sort of plausible explanation for my zoning out. But the professor saved me from myself. "I know this is boring, but we're almost done. Try 'n' get some more rest for next class, yeah?" he said, a kind smile on his face but a sternness in his voice. And then he glanced around the entire room and spoke further on the matter, "I know it's an unusual time for a class and for probably all of you the first time you've ever had such a late class. Be prepared and rested!" And then he continued with his lecturing. Still embarrassed, I sat there, focusing on the front of the room and trying to listen to the professor speak. I didn't even want to acknowledge the godly presence next to me, but my again-hard, throbbing, and now very wet dick was a stark reminder. I was now certain that I did orgasm, as that much pre was impossible! I stayed there frozen in humiliation, but knew the muscle-god (hope he is) next to me kept glancing at me a lot. If there was even a small chance that he was gay, an even smaller chance that someone who looked like him would be into skinny me, and there was now an even lesser chance he'd ever be into me after what just happened. I imagined I'd have greater luck being struck by lightning twice in the same day that I won the lottery. But my cock just never calmed down. Being next to him, it just could never.
  2. Hi everybody, this story is translate with an AI, because of my laziness Critics and suggestions to improve text quality are welcome! A TRIP IN OMAN (pt. 1 & 2) It's not that I could say I didn't like my life - because on the other hand I had a bit of everything - but if I'm being completely honest, there was something deep inside that I didn't like. I felt I had to give up some things: not because I lacked the ambition to achieve what I wanted, but because I knew I could not have what I wanted in the first place. I had always thought of myself as an extremely average person: average family, average class, average school, average sports results. An average love and sex life: I wasn't particularly good-looking, tall or muscular. I had studied computer engineering and got a job in Italy in a multinational company that makes software for banks. I was 35 years old and had a quiet career. Davide and I had been together for a while: we met by chance on Grindr. At first, we kept in touch just for fun and a few group outings with some mutual friends we had made. Then we finally got together. In reality, things were not going well. David, underneath it all, I always thought he was a bit jealous of what I was doing. And then lately he'd got into fitness and said that I was too sedentary, that I wasn't healthy. In short, he'd told me one day, during the umpteenth argument about never seeing each other: he wasn't happy being with me and, he'd said, my body no longer excited him. I'd taken the blow, but I couldn't say I'd got the hang of it. It was the last straw and so, after the umpteenth outburst, I left his house without speaking to him again. At work I had had a pretty serious breakdown, both in my ability to concentrate and in the quality of my work. I had also tried to reason with a friend who had sent me to a psychologist, a very good one, she said: in fact, apart from the fee, I don't remember much of what he told me, apart from the fact that he thought I was depressed. I actually had quite a lot of vacation time left over, and I should have used it sooner or later. It was the right time for me to decide to pack up and move on. But where to? One day I got a call from my colleague in Human Resources: basically, our bank was going to take part in an international merger for an investment fund whose shares it wanted to acquire; it was a done deal, but there were some problems with the feasibility of the operation. The merger partners wanted to know more about us. Basically, it was a matter of making various information available and making our accounting standards readable in their databases. A technical solution had to be found. One of the parties to the deal was a wealthy sovereign wealth fund from Oman. The owners graciously offered to host a conference to decide what to do. They would pay for all the technicians to be sent. They asked me if I was interested. I was totally against it at first. I mean, I had been to Lebanon and Egypt, but Oman was a petro-monarchy, a very conservative, absolutist state... I didn't like all that. My colleague, with whom I was quite close, explained to me very patiently that the congress would take place in five days, that it was an international event and that I should not worry. If I could get a flight from Oman to another country, I could pay for part of my holiday that way. His comment was just silly. So I decided to take the job: not least because there was a lot of pressure from above to do so. Basically, it had been planned that way. After a bit of back and forth, I had planned to leave Milan on the first Saturday in June. We would have made a stopover in Dubai and then taken a local flight to Mascate. A thirteen-hour flight with a stopover was not a few hours. But then I would arrive at a luxury hotel provided by the company. The meeting would last from Sunday, with a presentation dinner, until the following Thursday. Friday, however, was free: I planned to stay in another hotel in the area, a little cheaper, from Saturday to the following Wednesday, and then return to Italy. If nothing else, this would have guaranteed a certain punctuality in the meetings and we would have had the chance to visit these places a little. I was still curious about this place, so far from our imagination, so exotic... In short, I had decided to go. *** Despite what I had been told, the country was not that conservative. It was not true that you had to wear traditional clothes. The hotel was very nice, if a bit kitschy. The first day had gone quite well, after a very tiring flight. Mostly colleagues more or less my age, some older: several Asians, a few locals, mostly Germans, a few French. I had appreciated the precision of the timetable: all in all, even the meetings were more bearable, the topics well sketched out and the agendas organised. My only regret was that, despite my good intentions, I had seen virtually nothing of Oman. It was Tuesday evening when, at the end of the afternoon working session, I decided to join a table of local colleagues for dinner. There were four men, two in their 50s, one bald and quite tall, one a little fatter and shorter, and two more or less my age. I asked if I could join them, and they were happy to oblige: I had already broken the ice with one of the two contemporaries, a young man with glasses, a bit of stubble, who looked athletic, as I noticed under his shirt and jacket two nice broad shoulders and a rather slim waist. Yussef, that was his name, suggested that I follow him and his colleagues after dinner to try a very nice traditional place to smoke hookah. Eventually I agreed, and in his boss's luxury car, I forget whether it was a Porsche or a Jaguar, we drove into the old city. It was a very warm evening, but there was a pleasant breeze that made the night pleasant on the large terrace of this typically oriental building. We were sitting on some cushions, enjoying a water pipe, when Yussef introduced me to a man in his forties, I think, dressed in the traditional way: a long cassock and a top hat on his head. He also spoke English, but not fluently, so Yussef helped him translate a little. This very distinguished gentleman, who immediately caught the attention of those present, Yussef told me, was considered a real authority: his name was Muhammad, like the prophet, he explained, and he was some kind of soothsayer or something like that. They held him in high esteem because they said all his predictions were always right to the millimetre. Muhammad gave a few card readings to those present while I enjoyed a smoke, then explained the horoscope a little while I looked at him between scepticism and amusement. "But you - he stared at me at one point - you don't believe it? "Honestly - I tried to be a bit distracted - not much, that's not how we do it." I was a big asshole to bring up cultural differences, but it was the easiest thing to do. Muhammad, however, did not believe me - and he was right - that we do not use horoscopes and so on: he explained to me, however, that there are other 'arts'. In what sense? I had just tried to ask, and he gave me a very long lecture about, I don't remember, what kind of 'magic' or something like that existed in the Islamic mystery culture, or something like that, based on looking... Then at a certain point, while I was lost in the conversation, Yussef came in to speak for me and the discussion seemed to be getting lively, but as long as they were speaking Arabic I didn't understand a thing. At one point Muhammad squared a piece of paper and wrote some things on it: I was minding my own business and making small talk with the English-speaking colleagues around me, I didn't want to hear their arguments. In the end, Muhammad and Yussef reconciled and seemed to make peace. He left much calmer. That evening, on the way back to the hotel, Yussef explained to me that he had made a bet with our 'fortune teller': 'There is this practice we call Ilm as-Simiya, a form of magic based on the powers attributed to texts or scriptures that invoke God. I don't really believe in it, but some people get these pieces of paper made by Mohammad and pay good money to get promotions at work, get married and things like that. "Well, cool," I replied falsely. "Not too much, some people spent a lot of money on it and got ruined. Anyway, Mohammad and I made a bet. 40 rials: if it's true that the magic will work tonight. I'm already waiting to collect it." "Ahahah, I think so too... By the way, what kind of magic is it?" "If I can make some of my wishes come true!" he replied enigmatically. I didn't understand much of what he was saying, but never mind, I said goodbye and went to bed, for I was very tired. I retired to my room and as I undressed for bed I thought to myself that Yussef was not so bad, a cool guy too. Yes, I didn't mind his Arabic features, I found them masculine and I don't know, they had something mysterious, something oriental about them. Maybe I didn't mind the guys here, who knows. "Come on, old man, think about it," I said to myself in the mirror, "who do you think you want with this gut?" and I squeezed my navel a little. No way, I wasn't that fat, but my laziness had certainly put me out of shape. So I had laughed about it, not thinking about David's words, which had hurt me and left a bad mark. With this last, sudden, angry perception of myself and my body, I fell asleep, somewhat irritated. The night was very strange. I slept like a rock but had confused and nonsensical dreams, I just remember dreaming of drifting along the sea or something. The next morning I was a bit groggy. Maybe all that smoking hadn't done me any good, who knows. I washed up with lots of ice water before getting ready to go downstairs for breakfast. Almost mechanically, I buttoned my shirt and then tightened the belt on my trousers. Only then did I notice that it was a bit loose around my waist and that the buckle loops must have been tightened a turn... What had happened? I looked in the mirror. Suddenly I realised something, but it took me a while to realise it. My whole body, including my navel, was perfectly flat and slim. Not an ounce of fat: under the skin I could see a slight hint of abdominal muscles. What the hell was going on?
  3. Hank, How are ya, stud? Man do I wish you was here. Sun, palm trees, beaches, all the rum you can drink. Shore leave in fucking paradise, and all that’s on my mind is our last brawl. Don’t help that none of the S.O.B.’s on this tinfoil barge can fight worth a damn. They talk big, get in your face, but then can’t take a punch. No kidding I dropped this one waif-like creature with a bare flick of a jab. I ain’t playing no more ‘til these bums come up with a salty bear like you who can handle these big fists. Hugs and Kisses (har-de-har-har), Liam Liam, Got such a fight-boner when I read your card, I went out and found a scrap on a New York rooftop with some swabbies from the Sea Queen. At five-on-one it wasn’t quite fair (for them, ha!). And with a knuckle-dragging stud like you on my mind, I went and popped my load too early. First guy crumpled under my left hook. Second guy lost all his front teeth to my haymaker. I kid you not the third and fourth wimps then shat their dress whites when I screamed in their faces. Hell you know how I can get when I get riled up. Fifth guy was made of somewhat sterner stuff, even caught me with an uppercut right on the button before I flattened him. But you know me, chin like a moose. I’ll post this (don’t lick the blood splatter, you animal), then go placate the Sea Queen’s first mate, smooth things over about the injuries, and the shitstains. Look at you, getting me in trouble, even from halfway ‘round the world. Bear hugs from your bearfriend (har-de-har-har), Hank Hank, Knew I could count on ya to get me back in the game. Give my best to the Sea Queen’s first mate; I once gut-slugged him so hard he re-savoured a week's worth of navy chow. You always know best, my brother in brawn. Who am I to avoid fightin’, on account of the delicate constitutions of weaker men? I went right back to that beach and pasted seven able seamen thinking of your handsome mug, and what I’d do to it should I see ya once more. They is not so able now (har-de-har-har), what with their busted ribs and all. Took some hard knocks, but ya know my noggin, harder than a coconut. I should know, I cracked one open with these paws and am now enjoying a refreshing drink in victory. Ya must remember my grip (wink wink)? Hope you counted, with that big brain of yours (“placate?”) that seven is more than five. Try to keep up. Smooches (on mine own biceps), Liam Liam, Guess there’s only one way we’re settlin’ this. I’m coming to get your ass. That’s the kind of grip you meant, right (har-de-har-har)? Ran into the minor problem of finding a ship headed in your general direction, and then the problem that said ship was The Defiant, remember them? They sure remember you and me, back when we were skinny recruits. We packed a wallop even then, but look at us now, with muscles coming out of our ears. They needed some convincing, did them deck apes, all ten of ‘em (math, boy), but you surely know how convincing these arms can be. Plus since they were now shorthanded, what choice did the skipper have? I know how to get my way, you remember? And if you don’t, sit tight, I’ll remind you soon enough. Drippingly yours, Hank
  4. muscleaddict

    Muscle Lads, Inc.

    This is a new story I've been working on (a similar size and length to my last big story Deano, Again) which centres around a group of bodybuilders sharing a flat in Manchester. Unlike my last few stories, this one features completely new characters and has no connection to the Muscle University/Deano series. However, as with most of my stories, there are a couple of nods and references to past stories and characters. This story doesn't stray too far from what people know me for. However, unlike my previous stories which were all told from the point of view of just one character, this one features multiple points of view with the chapters mostly alternating between two of the flatmates. On a final note - this first chapter is the longest of the story so if you're slightly put off by the length I promise you that most of the follow-up chapters are considerably shorter! MUSCLE LADS, INC. ONE NICK My heart is pounding as I approach the big red brick building with green framed windows Google Maps has been guiding me towards for the last twenty minutes. This is ridiculous. Why am I so nervous? Okay - that’s a stupid question. I KNOW why I’m nervous. I know why my stomach’s currently doing somersaults and why my heart feels like it’s in my throat. Because I’m about to meet Alfie Winters and Danny King. Two of the best young amateur bodybuilders in Manchester. Probably in the whole country, for that matter. Two bodybuilders I’ve admired and followed on Instagram for years. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Alfie’s Instagram Story this morning. It almost felt too good to be true. Maybe it actually is? And obviously, I was nervous when I sent him that DM telling him I was interested. I doubted whether I should. But I knew that if I didn’t take a chance and send him that message, I’d end up regretting it. And then Alfie sent me a reply which was SO fucking friendly and my head has been spinning with all of these thoughts and hopes and fantasies ever since. And yet - as I stand at the front door of the building Alfie and Danny live in and scan the buzzer for flat number seventeen, all I can think is - what the hell are these two incredible bodybuilders going to think when they open the door to an average sized, awkward looking, nerdy guy in glasses? Okay, so “average-sized” is a bit misleading. I’ve actually done two bodybuilding competitions. The first one was last summer after I’d finished university. And the second one was just last weekend. I came fourth in the junior category of a local show back home in Leicester. Which explains why I'm currently abnormally tanned and have been getting weird looks from people on the street for the past week. But despite the still shredded abs and leg striations currently hiding under my hoodie and jeans, it still feels a little weird to describe myself as a bodybuilder. Like if I actually said to someone, “I’m a bodybuilder”, there’s a very good chance they’d look me up and down and screw up their face in confusion. Maybe I’m being a bit hard on myself. Because, while I’m definitely no bull-necked Montgomery University-type tank struggling to fit through doorways by the time they’re twenty-one, I have got quite a bit of muscle on my six-foot frame. My arms are pretty thick for a start. Enough for heads to turn when I walk down the street wearing a t-shirt or vest during the summer. But by bodybuilding measures, I’m still pretty lean. I guess I’m one of those guys who looks pretty average and then shocks everyone by lifting up his t-shirt to reveal a set of shredded fucking abs. Hopefully, all of that will change in the next few years. That’s the goal anyway. To pack on more size. To keep learning. To keep growing. To keep getting better. So that one day I can proudly say “I’m a bodybuilder” with conviction and without fear of being laughed at. To be just as good as the two bodybuilders whose doorstep I’m now standing on and whose flat I’m now buzzing as my heart hammers in my chest. To maybe even be on the same bodybuilding stage as one or both of them one day competing alongside them. A deep voice comes through the intercom saying hello. I think it might be Alfie rather than Danny but I can’t quite say for sure. “Ummm. Hi,” I say back, awkwardly. “It’s Nick. To see the room?” The voice says something I can’t quite catch, a buzzing noise comes through the speaker and I hear the click of the front door opening. At this point, my nerves are off the charts. And they only get worse when I climb the stairs to the third floor. They only really start to ease when I’m suddenly faced with the image of Alife Winters filling up the door frame to his and Danny King’s flat. His big, round shoulders and jacked arms are bulging out of an Army-like olive green vest to a ridiculous degree. And the top of his thick pecs is spilling out of the material. Wow. I mean - seriously wow. He’s much bigger in the flesh. Is this guy really only a couple of years older than me? A wave of inferiority sweeps through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this bloody hoodie so Alfie and Danny could see my impressively thick and still bronzed arms? Something flickers across Alfie’s face when he spots me. I don't know if it’s surprise or disappointment or something else. Maybe I look bigger in my pictures on Instagram? But then his face transforms into a welcoming smile which relaxes me instantly. “Nick, yeah?” “Yep!” I reply, smiling back. Partly to be friendly. Partly because it’s pretty hard not to smile at the image of a jacked up muscle plug of a short-arsed bodybuilder spilling out of his vest who’s not entirely unattractive face-wise and who’s standing in front of you ready to welcome you into your flat. I also can’t help thinking how considerate it is that he decided to wait for me this way to save me from wandering the halls looking for the flat number. “You found it all right, then?” Alfie asks. “Yep. Just about!” I have no idea why I said that because I had no trouble finding the flat at all. “Jesus,” Alfie says, looking up at me as I follow him through the doorway and enter the flat. “How tall are you?” “Ummm. Six foot,” I reply, suddenly becoming very aware of the height difference between us. He must only be about five foot seven at the most. “I knew I should have put a height restriction on the ad,” Alfie jokes, as we enter a room made up of a living room on one side and a kitchen area on the other. “So this is the lounge. Kitchen's over there,” Alfie says. “The TV’s mine. But, you know … use it as much as you want. We’ve got Netflix.” The room is bright, spacious and modern with big comfy-looking blue sofas and a huge television. The far back wall has exposed bricks. I think property agents and landlords would probably market this as a New York style apartment. I’ve seen a couple of similar flats described as such in my search for a place to live in Manchester over the past few days. The only clue that bodybuilders live here is a big poster of Mitchell “The Machine” Murray squeezing out a brutal crab most muscular with his mouth wide open stuck to the wall above one of the sofas. Muscle exploding. Veins everywhere. Attitude through the roof. I wonder what my parents will say about that when they drop me off. IF they drop me off here. That’s a big if. “You a fan?” Alfie asks, looking from me to the poster of Mitchell Murray. He’s got an almost teasing smirk on his face which makes me feel instantly nervous. I swear my cheeks are getting flushed. “Mmmm,” I say, looking away from Alfie and back to the grotesque muscle screaming for my attention from the wall of the living space. “Isn’t everyone?” I look back at Alfie Winters who’s giving me this big, warm grin. Did I mention the fact that Alfie Winters is kind of cute? Okay - more than just kind of. He’s got these small boyish features. A button nose. Nicely styled brunette hair. I wonder if he’s ever felt self-conscious about his ears. It’s not that they’re big. But they’re quirky-shaped and kind of stick out. They’re like little pixie ears. Somehow they just make him more attractive though. I’m suddenly pulled from my thoughts and my insides tighten. Because the other bodybuilder who lives here has just walked into the room. A bodybuilder who’s even bigger and more well-known than Alfie Winters. Unlike Alfie though, Danny King is covered up by a black hoodie with the words Panther’s Gym written on the front. No guesses as to which of the two most hardcore bodybuilding gyms in Manchester Danny attends. But even though he’s covered up, he looks like a right fucking tank. I know exactly what’s hiding under that hoodie. Thick slabs of hard, shredded meat. Gorgeous thick pecs. Blocky abs. Big, boulder shoulders. How twenty-five year old Danny King is still an amateur is anyone’s guess. It can't be long before he gets his pro card. There are so many contrasts between Alfie and Danny. Danny’s much taller. I'd say about the same height as I am. And where Alfie’s cute and boyish-looking, Danny’s kind of rough around the edges, but still handsome. Really handsome actually. He’s got brunette hair which is shaved at the sides and medium length on top. A strong jaw. He looks like a bit of a lad’s lad, I guess. The type of guy who I'd never have been friends with at school. I know I only just met the guy, but I’m also not getting the same warm, friendly vibes that I get from Alfie. There’s something about him which is kind of intimidating. Okay - very intimidating. “Danny, mate - this is Nick,” Alfie says. “The guy about the room?” Danny King gives me a half-hearted nod and mumbles, “All right,” with an unimpressed look on his face. My heart sinks to the pit of my fucking stomach as Danny turns away and heads into the kitchen area. I think I now know why someone coined the phrase ‘never meet your idols’. “I’ll show you the room,” Alfie says, seemingly unfazed by Danny’s less-than-friendly welcome towards me. As I follow him, I can’t help taking a sneaky look back at Danny, who’s now got his broad back to me, making himself a shake in the kitchen. The big cushions that make up his arse bulging underneath and stretching the material of his black joggers. I’m not being funny - but if a potential new flatmate is coming around to view a room in your flat, shouldn’t you at least make a bit of an effort with him? Is it me? Did Danny and Alfie discuss what type of flatmate they wanted beforehand and decided an absolute must was that he had to be a seasoned bodybuilder? And then I showed up with my two bodybuilding trophies and barely there calves? I’m tempted to ask Alfie if Danny is okay but it feels like it would be a weird question considering I literally just met the guy. As I follow him into the room, my eyes go down to the thick arse cheeks nestled into Alfie’s grey shorts, then further down to the thick calf muscles bulging off the back of his lower legs, then further down to the bright yellow socks he’s wearing which are patterned with little watermelons. I bite my lip to cover up my smile. Alfie Winters does this thing on Instagram where he poses in his (always shiny and hot as fuck) trunks and a pair of novelty socks pulled up to his ankles. It’s a sort of quirky little thing he’s known for doing. And people go mad for Alfie Winter’s novelty socks. Me included. Even if I’m not that vocal about it. “So where do you live at the moment, mate?” Alfie asks me as I scan the bright, decent-sized bedroom I can definitely see myself living in. “Oh, erm … with my parents in Leicester. That’s where I’m from,” I explain, turning around to see Alfie with his short thick arms folded across his chest. Must. Not. Stare. (Is drooling okay though?) “So why Manchester?” “Ummm. Well, my best friend lives here. I used to come and visit her when she was at uni and … I just kinda love it here, I guess. I’ve already got an internship here.” “Oh cool. What doing?” “Digital Marketing. It’s working for an agency.” “That sounds pretty mint,” Alfie enthusiastically replies in his cute Mancunian accent. “You can give me some tips for Instagram,” he adds with a grin so cute I’m now wondering how sensible it is to move in which a lad you’re probably going to fall in love with in the space of a week. “You’re, erm … a personal trainer, aren’t you?” As soon as the question escapes my lips I feel a sharp panic. I don’t want Alfie Winters to think I’ve been stalking him on Instagram or anything. Something flickers across his face and his lips briefly curl into an ominous little grin which makes me feel like I’ve just been rumbled. “Yeah. Just one of the high street gyms. And I’ve got a few sponsors too. So … are you gonna be a Muscle Factory boy when you move here?” he asks with a teasing look. I fail not to smirk back and nod. “Yeah. I think so!” Alfie playfully squints at me. “Yeah - I don’t really see you as a Panthers guy,” he teases. Before I have a chance to reply, Alfie shoots me another question. “You’re a Classic Physique guy, yeah?” I feel like I’ve just been winded. I know for a fact my face just dropped. “Ummm. Nah. Bodybuilding.” Alfie’s expression flickers like he’s realised what he’s said and he awkwardly nods. “I’ve just done, like, a few shows,” I explain. “Nothing major.” “And now you’re moving to Manchester to train at The Muscle Factory and become a shredded monster?” he teases with a cheeky smirk, redeeming himself for his earlier blunder. I bite my lip and grin back, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden. We drift back into the living room and I feel both nervous and excited at the prospect of facing Danny King again. He’s sitting on one of the sofas with his face buried in his phone. He looks like such a monster just casually sitting there in his hoodie and joggers. With his veiny hands and his annoyingly good looks. He doesn’t even look up when we sit on the other sofa. Which feels kind of rude. “So, ummm … have you got many people looking at the room?” I ask. Alfie looks at Danny, who still isn’t looking up. “Just another guy later, but … you messaged us first, so …” I feel a jolt of excitement. But that quickly vanishes. Because NOW Danny looks up. He gives Alfie a pointed look, his eyebrows furrowed. As if he strongly disagrees with the suggestion that the room is mine just because I messaged Alfie first. And now I know that it’s definitely me. That this guy clearly has some kind of problem with me. Then Danny looks at me, not smiling. Just … looking at me. This kind of unnerving stare. Like he’s properly checking me out for the first time now that it's been suggested that I may actually be moving into the flat. And now I don't know what the hell to think. “Any more questions, mate?” Alfie asks. Danny’s still glaring at me. I suddenly feel like I want this sofa to swallow me up. I have no idea what’s going through Danny King’s head, but I’m sure it’s not good. I DO have questions. A few of them, in fact. Are the rumours that you’re bisexual true, Alfie? Why does Danny King seem to hate so much? And would I be getting the same unnerving glares and cold reception if I were some Montgomery University graduated monster and not just some geeky-looking guy in specs from Leicester who has all but two bodybuilding shows under his belt? There's no world in which any of those questions are appropriate to ask. So I just meekly shake my head instead and decide to get the hell out of this flat as quickly as possible with no goodbye or acknowledgement from my new best friend, Danny King. As I say bye to Alfie and make my way to exit the building, all of my hopes and wild fantasies of living and becoming friends with two of Manchester’s best amateur bodybuilders shrink and disappear into nothing. Later that night I’m standing in the queue for Utopia - a big once-a-month queer club night at one of the city’s biggest club venues, huddled together with my best friend Liv, who I’m currently staying with and her very gay flatmate, Benji, who’s made no secret of the fact that he fancies me. “I don’t know why don’t you just move in with us,” Benji quips. “We’ll split the rent three ways.” “Excuse me - I’m not having my living room turned into a bedroom,” Liv retorts. “It’s not just YOUR living room,” Benji grumbles. “Mmmm. I kinda need my own room,” I tell him. “You could always just share my room,” Benji teases, wrapping his arm around mine so they’re linked. Liv makes an audible groan and I fail not to smile at Benji’s flirting. And maybe even blush a little. Benji is actually a really sweet guy. I mean - he’s not my type at all. He’s camp as Christmas for a start. Plus - I guess you could say he’s missing a few physical attributes that I normally go for. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what would happen if I gave in to Benji’s flirting. How he’d react if I lunged my face towards his and snogged his admittedly cute face off. I didn’t go into too much detail about what happened at the room viewing with Liv and Benji. I imagine the conversation that went down between Alfie and Danny when I left the flat. Alfie saying that I seemed nice. Danny pulling a face and saying they should wait for the next guy to show up. And then some super confident muscle bull of a bodybuilder who’s been competing for years and who Danny recognises from Panthers showing up to view the room and the decision being promptly made that he’s the flatmate for them and not that awkward nerd who came around earlier. Will Alfie Winters even get back to me to tell me the news or will he be too embarrassed after his blunder of implying the room was mine just because I messaged him first, which I have to say, feels like a bit stupid to me? I guess whatever happens I’ll be seeing Alfie Winters at The Muscle Factory when I eventually get my room sorted and move here. I can’t imagine him not even giving me a friendly hello. “Don't you think we’d make a good couple though?” Benji says, tightening his grip on my arm. “The big beefy himbo and the small geek.” A laugh escapes my lips. I’m tempted to ask, “Which one am I?” but I stop myself. If Benji thinks I’m big and beefy, what would he think of the two mini muscle bulls of junior bodybuilders I met earlier today? One of the guys standing in the queue in front of us glances around and quickly looks at me. Then his eyes go down to my arms. I guess my biceps do look pretty great in this tight-fitted blue t-shirt. Two seconds later he turns around again and gives me a shy little smile. I imagine that took a bit of courage. It’s kind of adorable. And the guy’s actually really handsome. And it would be so easy for me to pull him. But - ugh - I don't know if this makes me sound really shallow, but I know that what I REALLY want isn’t just a regular-sized guy. No matter how nice and cute and handsome he happens to be. We lose my new admirer once we get inside the club. I’ve never been to Utopia before and I didn’t really know what to expect but this place is pretty amazing. A huge high-ceilinged club with thumping uplifting house music full of all types of people all here to have an amazing night. It’s like a wonderland of queerness. Me, Liv and Benji make our way to the bar, passing people dressed in crazy club kid outfits, drag queens who look incredible and a few other people who stick out from the mass of clubbers. And I’m just here wearing skinny jeans and a tight blue t-shirt. And yet - I feel quite a few eyes on me. Hot guys smile at me. One guy even reaches out and places a hand on my back. It’s uninvited, but I’m flattered. All because I look pretty buff in the tight blue t-shirt I'm wearing. I can’t help but wonder what kind of reaction possibly bisexual Alfie Winters would get if he strolled in wearing that olive green vest he was wearing earlier today. Arms, pecs and shoulders bulging. And now I’m wondering - would Alfie Winters come to a place like Utopia? Would Danny King come to a place like Utopia? I think I already know the answer to the latter. “So, Mr Malone …” Benji begins with a mischievous look on his face when the three of us are standing at the bar. “I have a little present for you!” Before I have a chance to ask him what, he’s putting something into the palm of my left hand. “Ummm. What is it?” I ask, looking at the little round yellow pill now resting in between my fingers. “What’s going on?” Liv asks, leaning into us. I show her Benji’s “present”. “Oh great - so you guys are gonna be off your faces?” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got one for you too, Olivia.” “What does it do?” I ask. Benji laughs. “God, he’s adorable!” he says to Liv, before turning back to me. “How can someone who looks like you be so innocent?” “Why don’t you just do half?” Liv suggests. Benji groans. “He’s a big boy. He’ll be able to handle it. Do the whole thing, Nick.” I suddenly like feel I’m in a cartoon. Benji is the little devil on my left shoulder and Liv’s the angel on the right. I look at the little yellow pill again between my fingers. I’ve never really done recreational drugs before. But this club. The people. The atmosphere. I’m suddenly feeling reckless. Without too much more deliberation, I put the whole thing in my mouth and wince at the bitter taste of swallowing it, to a grinning and excited-looking Benji. Who’s strangely never looked cuter. Half an hour later and me, Liv and Benji are huddled together dancing. Or at least I'm trying to. I don't think I’m actually moving that much. If I’m being honest I feel like a bit of a twat. Am I doing this dancing right or do I just look like a knob? I don’t think I’ll be going clubbing much when I move to Manchester. I think I’ll just stick to trying to become a muscle beast at The Muscle Factory and desperately trying to befriend Alfie Winters. Recreational drugs are also way overrated. I mean - yes, I feel a bit of a buzz. But is this really what everybody raves about? I leave Liv and Benji and escape to the toilets. I check my phone in a cubicle to find no text messages from Alfie. My insides tighten in anticipation when I open up Instagram. Because maybe he's DM’ed me there instead. But my heart soon drops. Because there’s no notification to tell me I have a message. I start to type in a name in the search bar, but something stops me when I’m halfway through. I don't think looking at the Instagram of a bodybuilder who clearly didn't think that much of me despite me hardly saying two words to him is a particularly healthy thing to do. So I type in another name instead. And now I’m smiling into my phone because I’m looking at a picture of a bronzed and shredded Alfie Winters hitting a front lat spread in what I presume is his bedroom in a pair of shiny purple posing trunks (to be fair, Alfie’s trunks are never NOT shiny) with a pair of Stranger Things socks pulled right up to his shins. I know this was taken around the time of his last competition a few weeks ago because he’s posted a couple of similar ones since then. I let out a little laugh and bite my lip as I read the caption Alfie has written to accompany the picture. Sorry, folks. These trunks aren't for sale. (I know some of you will DM me to ask anyway!) Will I ever be brave enough to post a caption as outrageous as that? Will I ever have random guys messaging me on Instagram asking to buy my used posing trunks? Right now, I’m not even brave enough to post pictures of myself in competition for fear of what people might say and think. For being judged, I guess. Which I know makes me sound completely pathetic. I put my phone away and head back out to my friends. But as I’m walking through the crowd of clubbers, something starts to happen. My arms suddenly feel light and airy. There’s this tingling sensation going up and down them. Which spreads to my whole body. And then … as I reach Liv and Benji, out of nowhere, this intense rush sweeps through me and takes over my body. “Are you okay?” my best friend asks as she grabs both of my arms. I’m not sure if I AM okay. Because I’ve never felt like this before. I guess this is what happens when you decide to be reckless and neck little yellow pill’s given to you by your mate’s flirty flatmate. “Just relax!” Liv instructs. Relax. Okay - I can do that. Because yes, I’m a little freaked out, but I know that I’m safe with Liv. And even though I don't actually know him that well, I know I’m in good company with Benji too. And so I take Liv's advice. I try to relax. I try to stop freaking out. And when I do, all of a sudden, I’m in the middle of having what is probably one of the best fucking nights out of my life. I love this place. I love this club. I love Liv. And I kinda love Benji too. Cute, sweet Benji, who is now tugging on the bottom of my t-shirt and trying to coax me into taking it off. Which really doesn’t take much doing. As soon as I peel my bright blue t-shirt off my torso, it’s like an instant reaction. And it’s not just because Benji is staring at my bumpy shredded abs with his mouth hung open. It feels like all eyes are suddenly on me. And man - it’s such a fucking rush! I never display my torso in public like this. I close my eyes and feel the heady rush of the chemicals. And now - there are hands on me. Planted on my waist. I open my eyes to see Benji giving me this dreamy little smile. Benji - who’s not my type at all but who’s sweet and funny and cute. Benji - who’s gripping my waist. Benji - whose face is now inching towards mine. Benji - who I’m now kissing. And it’s nice. And kind of horny. But when we part lips, he’s giving me this look that makes my chest tighten. Still gripping onto my waist, Benji leans into my ear. “I really like you!” I feel a sharp panic. I look at Liv behind Benji, who’s giving me this look. Like she’s warning me. Don’t mess around with Benji. Don’t break Benji’s heart. (Like I’ve ever broken anyone’s heart before!) He’s got this look in his eyes. This look of hope, I guess. And I know I need to stop what I’m doing. I know that doing anything more than just kissing Benji will be a mistake. “Ummm … I’ll be back in a bit!” I say to him, suddenly feeling like I need to escape. And quickly. “Okay!” he says, looking at me with those big eyes full of hope and desperation. I start to walk away from Benji and Liv and through the crowd of sweaty clubbers with my t-shirt tucked into the waistband of my jeans. Most of them are looking at me. Some of them smiling at me. Some of them even touching me. Because I’m pretty sure I’m the most shredded guy in this club. I'm pretty sure I'm the only guy here who can call himself a bodybuilder. Until I’m suddenly not. Because standing in front of me right now looking just as surprised and awestruck as I imagine I do is another shirtless bodybuilder. And God he’s sexy. Holy fucking hell he’s sexy. I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. Is this a mirage? Or am I having some kind of drug-induced hallucination? This guy is about five inches shorter than me. I’m guessing late thirties. Maybe even early forties. He’s completely bald. Has piercing blue-grey eyes. Handsome, smouldering looks. And these sticky-out ears. And there’s a big sexy vein zigzagging across the right side of his head. As for the body. Holy fuck. Okay, so he’s not like a mass monster or anything. He actually has quite a small frame. But the amount and sheer quality of muscle he’s managed to pack onto that frame is incredible. He has these perfectly round shoulders. Thick, tanned arms. These hot-as-fuck wavy-lined abs. And the pecs. Fuck ME the pecs. They’re like bunched up balloons of muscle fighting for space on his chest. The kind of pecs that twitch and dance with the slightest of movements. Even the silver chain buried in his neckline and running across the top of his thick pecs is unspeakably hot. “Oh my God!” he says to me. We’re both just staring at each other. And then this beyond hot bonafide muscle daddy before me curls his mouth into the most fuck-off sexy grin. “Where did YOU come from?” he asks like he can’t quite believe what’s standing in front of him. “Ummm, Leicester!” I tell him, leaning closer to his ear. As soon the words escape my mouth I realise how fucking stupid they sounded. He wasn't actually asking me where I was from! I swear - sometimes I’m such a social retard. Sometimes when people speak to me or ask me a question, it’s like my brain goes into a panic. And I can’t think of my reply quickly enough. And I end up just sprouting this verbal diarrhoea. Or saying something completely stupid. Like I did just then. But my mystery silver chain-wearing muscle daddy of a bodybuilder doesn’t seem to care. In fact, his smile gets even bigger (and sexier). Like maybe he found what I just said sort of cute? His hand goes on my waist and he moves his lips closer to my ear. “Have you taken something?” I bite my lip and nod. His hand is not moving from my waist. And I feel so much. Chemistry. Electricity. Between me and this bald, veiny-headed, slightly sweaty muscle daddy. His thick, balloon-like pecs right there. His crazily thick shoulders. It’s like there’s an incredible hotness radiating from his body. “Do you wanna come back to mine?” I can’t think of anything I want more. I nod at the muscle daddy. He smirks at me, reaches for my hand with his, wraps his fingers around mine and leads me out of the club. So many people are staring as I’m led out of the club and across the street to a taxi by the short, jacked bodybuilder I met literally two minutes ago. It might be the fact that we’re two male bodybuilders holding hands in public. And the fact that we’re both fucking shirtless. I can’t quite believe this is happening. And I can’t quite believe how hot this mystery muscle daddy is. “Didn’t you have a t-shirt?” I ask him as we approach the taxi. Mine’s still tucked into the waistband of my jeans but his is nowhere to be seen. He shrugs and pulls a face like he doesn't care before smirking at me. We get into the back of the taxi and he tells the driver the place where we’re heading which I don't recognise at all. Then he wraps his big, meaty, slightly furry forearm around my leg, his fingers gripping my inner thigh and my cock forcefully throbs in my jeans. I can see the thick veins pulsing under the hair of his forearm. “What’s your name?” I ask him. But the muscle daddy doesn’t reply. Instead, he lunges his face towards mine and starts kissing me hard. His tongue in my mouth. His huge bare sweaty shoulder pressed up against mine. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hard sweaty muscle. Even his scent. It’s all just so intoxicating. Almost unbearably horny. He stops kissing me. And now I’m just looking into those gorgeous blue-grey eyes. Every single fucking thing about this guy is sexy. The face. The body. The silver chain. That zigzagging vein on the side of his bald head. He’s like the epitome of masculinity. The ultimate muscle daddy. I feel like totally submitting to this guy. Letting him do whatever the fuck he wants to do to me. “My name’s Nick,” I tell him. His mouth curls into a big, sexy grin. Like he maybe thinks I’m cute or something. His grip gets tighter on my thigh. “I’m Mason,” he tells me. Even his voice is hot. Deep, masculine and surprisingly well-spoken. “But you can call me Sir,” he says, straight-faced. I don’t know if it’s the chemicals in my body. I don't know if I’d have had a different reaction to what Mason just said if I hadn't taken whatever Benji gave me back at Utopia. Whether I would have thought it was weird. Or just laughed. But I don’t even deliberate over what to do next. “Yes, Sir!” I say, feeling an unexpected rush. “Good boy!” he replies in an assertive tone. Why is hearing Mason calling me that so hot? Sir. Good boy. This is completely new territory for me. But I'm totally into it. Maybe it’s the chemicals, but right now, I’m completely prepared to do whatever this insanely hot muscle daddy wants. As soon as we’re out of the taxi Mason grabs my hand with his. And he doesn’t let go until we’re at the door to his flat. Hand in hand with his bald sweaty shirtless bodybuilder. All the time I’m rock fucking hard. I should have guessed that the moment we stepped inside his flat I’d be pushed up against the wall with Mason kissing me hard. His thick balloon-like pecs pushed against my toned chest. His wavy-lined turtle tummy abs against my little, narrow bumpy ones. “What gym do you train at?” I ask Mason as I fall back on his bed. I really want to know whether he’s a Muscle Factory bodybuilder or a Panthers guy. But he doesn’t reply. He just yanks down my jeans and boxers with determination. All the time with this insanely sexy look on his face. And now his lips are around my cock. My hands are running around over his bald veiny head. I’m gripping onto his sticky-out ears. He’s sucking me hard and fast. I feel like I'm fucking transcending. Mason frees his lips and looks up at me. The sexiest fucking grin on his face. “Wanna fuck me, boy?” “Yeah!” I reply, gripping onto his shoulder blades. His eyebrows rise up in a stern expression. “Yes, Sir.” “Good boy!” Mason says, sitting up straight and climbing on top of my legs and mounting me. My hands grip onto his thick hard legs as he grips my cock and positions himself over it. What. A. Fucking. Image. This smoulderingly handsome bald-headed mature bodybuilder with his thick pillow-like pecs and wavy lined abs sitting on top of me. Towering over me. Dominating me. And then he sits down and … fuuuuck. I’m inside Mason. My cock is inside of him. He’s riding me. I’m fucking this hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder I know barely anything about. This hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s bringing his arms up into a front double biceps pose. He’s flexing while I’m fucking him. His eyes go to the gloriously pumped balls of muscle bulging from his upper arm and he arrogantly purses his lips. Like he’s admiring his own flexed muscle. Like he’s proud of it. Like he’s totally getting off on the fact that he’s a bodybuilder. My hands run up his stomach. Feeling his rock hard, slightly bloated abs. He looks down at me, still flexing his biceps, still with that smug fucking look on his face. His lips arrogantly pursed. And then his mouth curls into the sexiest smirk. Still the epitome of masculinity. Still the ultimate muscle daddy. When my hands reach Mason’s chest, he brings his arms down and squeezes so his pecs tense and flex and the muscle explodes under my fingers. His arms now by his side, he brings his right forearm up and clenches his fist into another flex and my hands slip to the biceps muscles now bulging off his upper arm. I’m squeezing Mason’s rock hard, marble-to-the-touch biceps muscles. Worshipping the freaky biceps of a hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s riding my fucking cock. “Want me to pose, boy?” Mason barks. “Yes, Sir!” He puts his fists on his waist and manoeuvres his upper body into a front lat spread. Lips pursed, he lets out a hot grunt as he reaches the peak of the pose. My hands run over his arms. His pecs. Down to his lats now peaking out under his armpits. All the time he’s riding me. All the time I’m fucking him. He then throws his arms behind his head and as he sits down on my cock, his big abs crunch and pop before my eyes. The hard, bloated abs of a roided-up daddy. Crunching and flexing before me. Just as I put my hands on his crunched abs he brings his arms down and with his fists pushed together squeezes out a most muscular pose with a cocky, animalistic, “YEAH!” My hands run over every muscle. Everything hard and squeezed and flexed. The look on Mason's face. The attitude. The dominance. The sheer fucking power. He grunts again as he continues to flex and ride my cock. All the time still riding me. All the time still fucking him. I’m fucking this hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder while feeling his thick biceps and squeezed pecs. I’m worshipping him. I’m quivering in his presence. I know how lucky I am. To be with him. To be inside him. To be fucking him. He may as well as well be the hottest and biggest bodybuilder on the planet. Right now he is. Right now he’s hotter than any other muscle freak in the world. He starts riding my cock faster. I’m fucking him harder. How can anything be hotter than this? Two bodybuilders fucking each other. My dick deep inside this daddy with his freakish biceps and God-tier tits. I’m consumed by his muscle. By his mass. By his everything. He’s riding me faster. Flexing harder. Grunting louder. Two sweaty bodybuilders fucking. Mason's flexing. I feel like I’m gonna cum. He’s grunting. I’m really gonna cum. The hot muscle daddy riding my cock unleashes this loud, powerful groan as he bounces on my cock. Thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock and shower my toned pecs and shredded bumpy abs as the most intense pleasure courses through my body and consumes every part of me. And now I’m groaning. Screaming loudly. My whole body is on fire. My whole body feels like it’s exploding. Because I’m cumming. I’m cumming inside this hot jacked muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s now lying flat on top of me, laughing and catching his breath. “Fuuuuck!” Mason cries dramatically. I laugh as he grins at me wildly. Looking as sexy as ever. Perhaps even more so. We stay like that for a few moments. Him on top of me. Me clinging onto his warm sticky back. A sweaty mass of thick muscle pinning me to the bed. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I’m on such a high. Are all my nights out in Manchester going to end like this? Mason sighs and looks me in the eye. Like he’s studying my face. “Are all the muscle lads in Leicester as hot as you?” he asks, his lip curling into a fuck-off sexy smirk. I grin back, still gripping onto him. Right now it doesn’t feel like anything matters but me being here with him. Me and Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy might as well be the only two people in the world. “I’m actually moving to Manchester,” I tell him. Something flickers across Mason’s face. Just for a second. It’s almost like I just delivered him bad news. Did I imagine that? “Awesome!” he says, his face softening. And now he looks genuinely pleased. “Mmmm. I’m trying to get my room sorted.” I suddenly have a crazy fantasy whereby Mason makes me an offer to stay here in his flat. To live here with him. “Do you go to Utopia a lot?” I ask him. He pulls a face. “Every now and then.” “Do you get many bodybuilders in there?” Mason grins. “No. Although I did take a straight bodybuilder mate there once. He loved all the attention he got.” He grips my waist hard. “You are definitely a find!” he purrs. God those eyes. God that face. God that everything. “So do you go to The Muscle Factory?” Mason mischievously grins. He pauses before answering. Am I asking too many questions? Is this not okay? “I train at Panthers. The Muscle Factory’s a bit showy-offy for me. Too many posers.” I nod and furrow my eyebrows. “Oh right. Just … you kind of seemed to like posing earlier!” I say, smirking at him. Mason lets out a little laugh. “You know what I mean. Panthers is purely about the bodybuilding. No one cares who’s there or … who MIGHT be there. Or who’s looking at them.” Huh. I had my heart set on training at The Muscle Factory. It’s pretty much the most famous gym in Manchester, after all. One of the most famous bodybuilding gyms in the country, for that matter. From what I’ve seen and heard it’s a big, clean gym, which is kind of flashy with tons of modern machines and multiple rooms and areas. Loads of famous bodybuilders have trained there. It also homes some of the best and most well-known personal trainers in Manchester. Panthers, on the other hand, is an old-school hardcore dungeon gym which is anything but flashy. In fact, it looks like a bit of a shithole from the pictures I’ve seen on the Internet. It’s a no-frills gym with old scruffy weight machines which haven’t been updated for decades. It’s almost the complete opposite of The Muscle Factory. I never really pictured myself training there. But hearing Mason comparing the two gyms, I actually quite like what I’m hearing about Panthers. I’m definitely more intrigued if nothing else. “I think you’d like it,” Mason says, with an ominous little smirk and an arched eyebrow. My chest starts to pulse with excitement. Is that some kind of invitation? Is that him saying that he wants to see me again? I’m suddenly picturing Mason taking me on my first visit to Panther’s Gym. Looking after me. Holding my hand. You know. That sort of thing. “I don't think you’d turn as many heads in there as you did tonight, though!” I suddenly feel sheepish and smile, while looking down at Mason's arms. The thick furry slightly tanned arms of a mature bodybuilder. Is it possible to pause time and stay lying in this bed forever? That’s pretty much how I feel right now. “So … do you know Danny King?” I ask him, feeling weirdly nervous all of a sudden and picturing Danny in his black Panthers hoodie yesterday afternoon. “Of course! Everyone knows Danny.” “What’s he like?” I ask, gripping a little tighter onto Mason’s back. “Mmmm. Nice guy. Doesn’t really talk much. Well … not at the gym, anyway. Keeps himself to himself. Some people think he’s a bit arrogant but … I don't think he is.” I nod. I’m tempted to tell him that I actually met Danny King yesterday and my general impression of him wasn’t hugely positive, but I decide to keep that information to myself. “Why? You got a little thing for Danny?” Mason asks, with a teasing smirk. I screw my face up. “Nah.” Mason smirks like he doesn’t believes me. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’s a hot little fucker.” He squeezes my waist again. “Like you!” he purrs. He slips his hand down my body, grabs my cock in his hand and squeezes. I’m swelling instantly. He makes an “Mmmm!” sound as he squeezes my swelling cock harder while bringing his lips to mine and kissing me again. This time softer and more gentle than before. Here we go again. I have no idea what time we finally drift off to sleep. Or what time it is when we both eventually wake up. My body aches like I've run a fucking marathon. I feel more self-conscious in the light of day. I have no idea what I look like. But I get the sense that I definitely don’t look my best. If it’s anything like the way my body feels right now. But I’m still buzzing from last night. From everything that happened with Mason. Meeting him. Coming back here. Having amazingly hot sex. He seems just as into me this morning too as he was last night. Touching me. Kissing me. I really could stay here all day if he asked me to. When he leaves me alone and heads to the bathroom, I step out of his bed and dig out my phone from the pocket of my jeans lying crumpled up on Mason’s bedroom floor. I have two missed calls from Liv and a text asking where I am. I suddenly have a flashback to last night of kissing Benji in the club. That look of hope and desperation on his face. Him leaning into me and saying, “I really like you.” I take my phone back to Mason’s bed and go into the Instagram app. The little red icon is showing, telling me there’s a DM waiting for me. I don’t think anything of it, but when I see who it’s from, my chest tightens sharply and I suddenly sit up straight. Because Alfie Winters has sent me a message. Hey, Nick. Thanks for coming around yesterday. The room is yours if you want it! Holy fucking - what?! I got the room? Is this a joke? I stare at the message. Trying to make sense of the words. I got the room. They want me to live with them. Alfie Winters and Danny King want me to be their flatmate. And now I’m thinking back to yesterday. The way Danny was with me. Kind of cold and rude. And that look he gave Alfie when he suggested the room was mine. I wonder what happened after I left. Maybe Alfie managed to talk Danny around. Maybe the other guy who was viewing the room didn’t show up. Maybe he was even less of a bodybuilder than I am. Who the fuck knows. But I got the room. I’m actually going to be living with them. Mason comes back into the bedroom. He looks at me suspiciously. Like he knows something’s going down. “Everything okay?” he asks, climbing back into bed and putting his arm around my waist, his body pushed right up against my side. I drop my phone, tell him yeah and grip onto one of his thick arms, grinning and feeling like I want to melt into his skin. “Mmmm. You are so fucking cute,” he purrs. My grin gets bigger as I grip tighter. “Like a hot little sexy muscle nerd!” Before I can answer, he’s kissing me again. The minty taste of toothpaste filling up my mouth. His hand slips down and grips my cock again. “Mmmm. I reckon you’ve got at least one more load in you,” he teases. “Wanna cum again?” “Yeah!” I say, gripping his thick arm tight and looking into his piercing blue-grey eyes. He arches an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting something? Yes …?” I smirk like crazy. “Yes, Sir!” Mason smirks back at me. So. Fucking. Sexy. “Good boy!” he purrs, giving my cock another hard squeeze. Here we go again.
  5. londonboy

    Super Orgasms

    I raised the two revolvers into the air – one in each hand. Snatching them out of the two men’s grip with super speed had been fun. They were still a little shocked by and unsure of what had happened. Both of them looked at my face, but their gaze slowly moved down my enormous arms to my hands. I squeezed. The casings gave like it was soft dough and they screeched a high ear-piercing sound. My dick throbbed at the feeling of the revolvers buckling in on themselves. I loved how little pressure I was applying and, yet, the weapons were unable to prevent themselves from being reconfigured. My hands demolished steel as if I were just wadding up a tissue. The alarmed faces of the two men made it clear the revolvers were looking a little mangled . . . and just by me squeezing lightly with my big mitts. I opened my fingers a little and adjusted the revolvers in my grip. I then squeezed again – harder this time. It just wasn’t a fair fight – something much stronger was flattening the guns. I saw panic rocket into the eyes of both men – like it was finally dawning on them what was happening. Freaking guys out with my strength was enough to make me cum, but I prevented a premature ejaculation. The fun was just getting started. These fellas had no idea what was amazing things were to come. You would have thought the revolvers were made of tinfoil by the way I so easily crushed them. God, I loved being strong . . . strong enough to make solid steel do what I wanted. The screeching stopped because I stopped squeezing. I brought my arms down and held out the guns – now flattened into nothing more than globs of useless junk – in my open palms. “Fire away, gentlemen,” I said – the teasing dripping off every word and that exciting me even more, “but I get the feeling they’re not going to work anymore. Here, let’s make it so you have to share.” They were too stunned to really hear anything I was saying. I got the feeling that if they could have moved they would have pinched themselves to see if they were dreaming. They just stared at hand-crushed steel – shocked by the deep finger grooves embedded in the clump. Their brains were still trying to catch up with their eyes. It just didn’t compute that someone could do such a thing. No human could simply squeeze a pistol into something unusable. No one had that kind of strength. It was clear they were trying to see how a trick had been played on them. Had their revolvers been replaced by chocolate ones? But then, what explained the screeching sound coming from my hands? Their confusion, coupled with the acts of strength my hands had just easily performed, was making my cock throb with so much delight I knew the show needed to continue. I wanted to edge myself and shock these two for as long as I could. “I’m feeling extra strong today, fellas. More like fucking super strong. Here, I’ll show you what I mean,” I teased even more – forcing my throbbing meat not to explode. I brought the two crushed solid steel blobs, which used to be revolvers, together and pushed them between my palms. I opened the palms in a prayerful position. I, again, held them up so my feat was even with their faces. I wanted the guys to have a front row seat for the muscle show. My cock was jacked-to-the-max by now, so I couldn’t have stopped my need to show off even if I had wanted to. I pressed my hands together and the two crushed pieces of steel started compressing into one, as if I were just a kid smashing two pieces of soft clay together. My palms moved closer to each other – ignoring the clump of steel between them. It was so easy, but such a huge turn-on, that I could feel my dick slit spitting out some dense pre-cum. Making metal, iron, steel, or any combination of those materials yield to my strength was so energizing . . . so freakishly and unbelievable destructive . . . I simply couldn’t help myself from getting excited. But what intensified the pleasure to the point of leakage was watching the faces of the two men in front of me. Their incomprehension as they watched dark steel start to seep out between my fingers because my hands were mashing it together with a force way beyond that of giant machinery created a need in me that was as powerful as my body. It made me want more . . . more feats that would make these men quiver in fear from their shock. My body . . . and my sexual desire . . . demanded I do more. I pulled my hands apart and let the now full combined, flattened chunk of steel – no longer distinguishable as having been two revolvers at one point – lay in the palm of my right hand. The two men still weren’t moving – they weren’t even inhaling – simply because they could not grasp what had just happened. My strength was beyond their intellectual capacity. Even their imagination couldn’t come close to conjuring my power. “I love playing with steel, fellas. It’s so malleable – don’t you think? I’m feeling fucking strong tonight, guys. Does one of you want to pull the trigger? That is, I guess, if you can find it,” I teased even more because I was so pumped with adrenaline. “I’m going to keep this as a little souvenir of my abilities . . . even if that’s not okay with you guys. You have no choice, anyway. So . . . in case the two of you huge strapping lugs-of-men can’t figure out what comes next . . . this is the moment where you run like hell. You know, where you actually think you can get away from me. Go ahead. I know you know where the door is. I’ll even give you time to unlock it.” Fifteen minutes ago, they had been two mastermind criminals robbing a bank at two in the morning – completely sure of their plan to walk away with millions in cash, having clearly taken into account every possible thing that could go wrong. Everything, that is, except for the humongous, nearly naked, muscled mass, which they couldn’t have even imagined, that stood in front of them now . . . after having crushed their stainless steel Magnums with what seemed like no effort at all. Nope, there could have been no way for them to have anticipated me punching through the wall near them – since I didn’t want to set off the alarm by ripping one of the bank’s front doors off. Nor could they have planned on me having rounds of bullets from both guns bouncing off my hugely muscled body as if they were just annoying gnats. I wish I could have seen their faces when my giant fist had first plowed through the thick concrete wall like a human battering ram. I’m sure it took them a few minutes to figure out what it was. I had waited almost a full minute for them to gaze at the huge thing poking out of the hole. And then it certainly would have been hot watching their eyes grow bigger when said hand basically grabbed the wall and pulled a giant chunk of it away – enough to fit my enormous body, which had to up their shock level to even newer heights, through without having to destroy more of the building. I loved how they thought their bullets were going to hurt a man that had just easily punched and ripped apart concrete. But the sound of guns firing and the delayed sounds of bullets ricocheting everywhere as they were repelled by my hard body had been a subtle addition for my budding hard-on, so that by the time I held their guns in my own hands the thing was fully, and monstrously engorged. Of course, the two fellas weren’t looking at my cock . . . they were too shocked by my now dust covered colossal body and the fact that I had somehow gotten their now emptied revolvers without them really knowing how. Their aching trigger fingers, however, led them to believe I had simply pulled the weapons from their hands, but they hadn’t seem me do it. Somehow, even in the midst of their fear that they were seeing some kind of muscled apparition or alien from space, the two big men moved with amazing speed as soon as I had suggested that they run. I didn’t follow . . . since I knew I didn’t have to. When they got to the front doors of the bank, the quickest exit since I was still standing in front of the hole I had ripped out of the wall, they were going to find their huge Hummer SUV on its side blocking the doors. If they were not totally freaked out, they were also going to be able to see that the enormous vehicle was now smashed into something that resembled a flattened sheet of metal. I turned so I could see their reactions when they realized there was no exiting the front door, as well as comprehending the fact that I had, surely by hand, too, destroyed their enormous getaway car. Fuck, my balls were aching from the excitement all of this was causing. I thought about how hot it would be to slam my raging boner through the giant thick-as-shit safe door the fellas were about to crack open . . . but I knew I’d already done enough damage to the place, and that there would probably be a little more. I also knew there were reasons for me to wait – the first being the fact that two gentlemen needed to be freaked out more by my strength. “Guys, you hurt my feelings wanting to leave the party so soon. Luckily, it looks like something . . . or someone . . . has blocked your exit. What on earth could have flattened your SUV? Oh yeah, I think it was these massive things,” I said, raising my humongous arms into a double biceps flex, knowing the sight would actually shock the two men more than everything else that had happened to that point. “Fucking hell,” one of them yelled as soon as my arms were tensed and up in the air. This was more of a reaction than I could have dreamed for. Both men were, again, completely frozen and so wide-eyed it looked like they had seen a ghost. The enormity of my body had not fazed the two men when they had held revolvers in their hands. That had, in their limited minds, evened the playing field. They didn’t need to process the fact that I had just busted through solid concrete with a powerful punch or the fact that I towered over their big bodies – which were clearly more than six feet tall with each of them weighing more than two hundred and fifty pounds. They had clearly thought it didn’t matter how big I was because there were two of them and they had fucking guns, as well! All color was beginning to be drained from their faces by fear as their thick heads slowly began to fully comprehend my seemingly unlimited strength . . . and the fact that my flexed biceps had been the biggest they’d ever seen in their entire lives. The shiny light-blue posers I wore – hiding nothing of the monstrous thing that was barely contained inside – reflected what little light that came in the front glass doors since they were blocked by a huge, crushed-by-my-very-own-hands Hummer. My thick as small fridge thighs scraped together in a muscle-freak kind of way as I waddled a few steps toward the men. The fact that I was barefoot was not lost on the two guys, who were slowly waking up to the reality that I was a muscled behemoth – much larger than anyone they had ever seen before. The muscle between my quads pushing against each other when I moved made me remember just how thick my legs were . . . and that turned me on more. My posers were strained by my hard-on, already, so this just added to the fabric being stretched to near bursting. Luckily, the two men hadn’t seriously looked at my crotch, yet. I think that shock might have made both of them pass out. I moved toward the men slowly because I looked forward to exactly what I knew two goons like this would do in a tight situation, even after all that I had already done. Threatened by my enormous size coming closer, they were going to opt for hand-to-hand combat and that was going to be hot as hell. “Why don’t you guys call 911 and turn yourselves in. Or you could tell the operator that there’s a muscled freak busting through walls and destroying SUVs. I’m sure they’ll believe you,” I teased, moving within striking distance. What was it with certain kinds of men? These two goons had seen me punch through a wall and then rip out a huge chunk of it so I could fit through. They had seen my big hands easily crush solid steel revolvers until it oozed out like toothpaste being squeezed out a tube. They saw what was clearly my handiwork on their demolished SUV. And yet, despite all this, they thought it would be wise to fight me. Of course, that’s exactly what I had hoped for. Being turned on by my own strength enabled me to milk out enough pre-cum to equal the full-on orgasms of five or six men. I chose to wear only posers because watching fists come to sudden and painful stops against my skin was so much better than if I were wearing clothes. Besides, when I had a shirt on and some guy punched me, he usually though I had a steel plate or bullet-proof vest on underneath. When I was shirtless it made the awareness that my muscle-supported skin was, indeed, rock hard. I speedily crunched my abs when I sensed the guy on the right was going to recklessly throw a punch. I also stuck out my jaw a little when I saw the other dude’s leg cock back for what I knew would be a high flying kick to my face. I was actually impressed that he thought he could kick that far in the air . . . which it turns out he could. The fist met my unyielding stomach first and, immediately, the man cried out in pain as his fist folded in on itself like a paper fan and fingers broke at the knuckles. My abs, however, didn’t give at all. That’s when a flying foot-supported shoe came smacking against my chin. My neck, thicker than most men’s waist didn’t move at all. My chin repelled the kick, easily. I heard the crunch of an ankle and saw the jolt of a stopped leg being pushed back up into the man’s body. I knew he’d be having a lot of hip problems later on. The poor guy simply fell to the ground in pain, his body even more shocked than his mind by being obstructed so easily. “That was pointless, don’t you think, gentlemen? Now you’ve gone and hurt yourselves. I know you big fellas think you’re strong . . . but there is always something, or someone, that is bigger and stronger – don’t you think? Well, in this case, there definitely is. You’d think seeing my fist power through a thick concrete wall might have alerted you to the hardness of my body . . . but no, you fellas thought you could punch your way through all of this. A speeding semi isn’t going to make this huge body move, guys, and it’s going to be totaled in the process. But you two thought your weak punches would do something to me. I find your bravery or stupidity very hot, though, fellas. Thank goodness my posers are waterproof or you’d be seeing a huge wet stain at my crotch . . . I’ve been leaking ever since I flattened the roof of your Hummer with one open-palmed slam. I’m surprised you guys didn’t hear the windows shattering or the metal giving in to my power – even though I carried the thing a few blocks away so you wouldn’t. Then I simply grabbed the front of the vehicle and lifted it over my head to bang it back and forth down on the ground – shaking buildings around me. After just a few slams to the ground that big thing was flattened. It blocks the door perfectly now,” I said looking out at the demolished vehicle. I looked to my right and saw a metal gated door in front of the glass door that led to the safety deposit boxes. I saw that the gate had bars about as thick as a tightly rolled up yoga mat and that when you closed the gate the poles extended electronically into the ceiling and floor. I loved how safely secure the bank felt their boxes were . . . just because of some thick steel poles. They clearly didn’t know I was dropping by or they might have left the door open . . . cause those weak things weren’t going to keep me out. I wasn’t interested in ripping open some safety deposit boxes, though. I was more interested in the thick steel poles of the door. I looked down at the muscled goons – one was lying on the floor massaging his hip and twisting his foot around. The other was hanging onto his now limp wrist and watching his hand flop back and forth. I was pretty sure they weren’t going anywhere, so I walked over to the gate. My huge hand easily wrapped around one of the poles near the top, but I took a few minutes to think about how the hands of the goons behind me would have only gone halfway. I felt a gob of pre-cum the size of a lemon bubble out of the slit of my cock as I thought about what I was about to do. I knew the sound would thrill me, tremendously, but the vision of what my hand was doing would be the best part of it. I squeezed my hand, loving how the solid steel pole bent in from the pressure of my fingers. Fucking up solid steel was still one of my favorite things to do . . . and it never got old. I tugged lightly and the top of the pole and ripped it from the cement wall like it had been attached to a mighty bulldozer, which yanked it away. At the same time, the steel brackets that went horizontal around the six poles of the gate snapped in two and I easily wrenched the entire pole towards me. I then jerked it a little and it broke free from the floor, as well. I now had a solid steel pole that was about seven feet long and only slightly bent from where I crushed it with my hand. I turned back towards my two goons – who had stopped trying to take care of their injuries to gawk with shock at my latest feat of strength. Again, they were silent and unmoving – floored by what I had just done and a lot more scared, now. “What? Fellas, your faces look surprised and even a little petrified. Is that supposed to be hard or something? It’s just a solid steel pipe bolted in a cement ceiling and floor. What’s the big deal? Ripping it out was easy. And look how simple it is to bend this steel pole,” I said with a little chuckle as I held up the long piece of steel. I knew I’d get a rush from watching their faces as my arms popped thicker when I started to make the beam of metal buckle in the middle. There was a much louder metallic shriek this time around. Making the huge piece of steel do my bidding was much different from crushing little revolvers. Ripping it from the gate was one thing, but holding it even with my mighty chest and slowly making it bow like it was simply a flimsy breadstick was much more impressive. The two guys were so entranced they had even forgotten about the pain in their bodies. I could have simply ripped the thing apart if I had wanted to, but prolonging the squeal, tensing my muscles bigger and bigger while I acted like it was taking more strength than it was, and leaking huge amounts of pre-cum in direct proportion to the wide opening of the guys’ mouths and eyes was just too much of a thrill to pass up. It was like intense foreplay. I knew how god-like I looked – how unbelievable it was that I could so easily make solid, thick steel do what I wanted it to do. These men didn’t know whether to be impressed or scared shitless. I think it was a little of both. I was forcing my chest to swell up monstrously, so it was even more intimidating behind the steel pole being abused so effortlessly. When I created a right angle with the pole I stopped and then held the heavy thing in one hand – as if I were simply making balloon art. “You’re thinking about all the incredible power in these big guns, aren’t you, fellas? I’m the enemy, but you can’t help being impressed with my size and my strength. There’s part of you that wants to see more and that bothers the hell out of you, doesn’t it? You wanted to crush the huge invader quickly and finish the job you were doing . . . but I just proved to be too much, didn’t I? Bending thick steel makes me happy, gentlemen. I find it very exciting to know that my hands are making something so unbreakable . . . something supposedly no man could ever manipulate so easily . . . surrender to something much more powerful. I like bending it just because I can . . . and everyone else can’t. I went slow to impress you, fellas, but really I can bend it easily,” I said, grabbing the big bar with my other hand and snapping it back into a long sort-of straight pole in a flash. “Fuck, guys, look how easily it is for me to bend it back and forth.” I was moving my arms up and down easily and the steel beam was squeaking loudly as it was force to bend this way and then that way. I made it look like it was a piece of cake to do, but the sound made it clear that the beam would have yielded to no one else. Each time I went up and down with my arms the eyes of the two goons got bigger and their mouths dropped open wider. Damn, they were smitten by my power at this point. They still couldn’t comprehend how a guy could be so big and strong, but now they were just enjoying the show. I stopped bending and slid my hands to one of the solid ends, letting the other side bang loudly on the bank’s floor. I then turned a little so the men could see what I was doing. I pressed the fingers of both hands into the center of the pole – the steel giving way without me straining that much. When I was up to my knuckles I started pulling the pole apart. It was like string cheese that I was ripping into two pieces. By this point my cock had made my posers so tight the seams were digging into my skin. My forearms and biceps seemed to double in size and were now a roadmap of thick rope-sized veins. Bending solid steel had been pretty loud, but tearing it apart was a hell-of-a-lot louder. I watched the two men staring at my humongous arms because I knew their faces would edge me closer to release than anything. It only registered to me that I was doing some astounding feat of strength because of their reactions, since it took no effort at all for me to peel the steel pole in two. I knew my balls were a dark purple from holding back my orgasm while I watched two big dudes become strength junkies right before my very eyes. “Yeah, you see, fellas . . . it turns me on to think that you two have thought, probably for a long time, that you were stronger . . . more powerful . . . and bigger than most men. You’d probably even gotten a little cocky – intimidating fellas at the gym, or co-workers, or just some smaller man you happened to be around. Let’s call a spade a spade, okay, men – I bet both of you have turned into bullies just because of your size. Well, my balls are aching big time, fellas, knowing that you’re getting a big taste of your own medicine, tonight. That broken wrist and messed up ankle, along with the fact that you’re freaked out by my incredible strength . . . well, that just turns me on more than you can imagine. Like a tree falling in the woods and the question about does it make a sound if no one is around to hear it . . . well, is super strength worth it if there’s no one around to be in awe of it. If it’s only me doing incredible feats of strength I can certainly have fun doing what I know is impossible for other men . . . but it’s when those other men are staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed, like you two are, that it seems my power is really worth it. I wish you could know what it feels like to pull apart steel. It’s fucking great, guys,” I said, now completely in show off mode and getting so horned up I was worried about exploding. I now had the steel beam completely ripped in two and was jacked beyond what the two men thought was possible for a human. I had a feeling I looked like some bodybuilder who had been morphed even beyond his already enormous size. I figured the head of my gigantic cock had popped out of the waistline of my posers because one of the guys – the one with the hurt wrist – simply passed out. I think, when he saw that the tip of my cock was the size of a coconut, he couldn’t take the idea that I might choose to do something to him with it, so his body shut down and he lost consciousness. The other goon, the one with the busted ankle, was green in the face – both from being envious and scared to hell. I held the two ripped long strips of steel in one hand and shoved my cockhead back into my posers, which actually took some effort. I wanted to spare the conscious guy of any more worry. I did, however, long to show him that my tool was just as powerful as the rest of me . . . but I definitely thought it would be too much for him to handle. Making a guy pass out was fun, but causing a heart attack was not my kind of thing. How the hell could the guy gawk at my muscles and strength if he was dead? That’s how I saw it. “Sorry about that, fella. A big man like me needs to have the meat to match, don’t you think? Although, it can be a little distressing the first time you see that humongous thing. Just so you know, though, it’s as strong as the rest of me,” I said, figuring out what it would do to the guy. The eyes of goon number two, the one still conscious, somehow got even wider than they already were at the idea that my cock was super strong. I watched as he clenched his butt cheeks together as a natural response to the fear caused by what I said. Then, as if he wanted to join his friend in la-la-land, he simply fell over – out like a light. Immediately, the excitement level of showing off my strength diminished. Sure, I was still going to have some fun, but it just wasn’t going to be the same without having shocked faces staring at me. I walked over to the two limp bodies and stared down at the would-be bank robbers. Their well-planned heist had gone terribly wrong and they would wonder for years why they had been foiled by some giant hulk of a man who punched through walls and condensed Hummers. I felt the blob of metal that used to be guns snug in my posers, pushing up against my balls. At least I’d have some jerk-off material for a while – the reactions of these two guys were stellar among the men I’d allowed to get a brief intro to my strength. I bent down and curled one of the guys in on himself and then I wrapped one of the strips of steel around the back of the guy’s knees and his body. I fastened a hand sized loop at the end of the strip after twisting the ends together. I did the same with the second guy. I was making human dumbbells, figuring I could curl the two men while looking at myself in the reflection of the windows to have a little more fun. Before I started lifting the two men, I reached into the pocket of one of them and pulled out his phone. I used the guy’s finger to open it and then I typed in a number. “Um yes, I’d like to report a foiled bank robbery at the First National Bank on Fifth and Main. Naw, there’s no rush . . . the two robbers have been subdued and are about to be curled for some reps. Oh never mind. Just so you know, this is a Code Humongous reporting. Yep, that’s right. No, they won’t be going anywhere soon, so take your time,” I said, reporting the crime. I hung up the phone, but before I slipped it back into his pocket, I took a few pictures of my flexed biceps just to haunt him a little later on. I then grabbed the two homemade rings and easily lifted both men in the air – each with one hand. For the next fifteen minutes I worked out my biceps using the two men as my weights. It was a lot more fun than I had anticipated – watching me sling around fully grown men so easily. I heard a siren in the distance, so I went into action. I took the guys outside and twisted the ends of the steel around a parking meter so they couldn’t escape – even though they were still out cold. I moved the Hummer from the doorway over to the hole I had made in the wall. I shoved the vehicle hard into the concrete until I knew it was lodged into the cement so deeply it wasn’t going anywhere without some heavy machinery . . . or my arms. I quickly untwisted the metal from the bodies of the two men and then smashed it into a ball. To get rid of the thing I simply tossed it to the roof of a nearby building. I smiled at the thought of someone finding it in a few days and not being able to lift it. The cop car pulled up just as I tapped the two guys cheeks lightly with one finger, waking them up. “Evening, officer,” I said smiling at the handsome uniformed man. “Hello there, sir. Are you the one that called in a Code Humongous?” he asked in a deep, sexy voice. “That would be me,” I said, still smiling. “These, I assume, are our would-be bank robbers,” he said, looking down at the two goons who were finally fully conscious. “Officer . . . you have to help us. This guy is insane. He punched through a wall, he crushed our guns in his hands, and he ripped out a steel beam and then bent it like it was nothing! Get us away from him, please. Yes, we were trying to rob the bank! So, lock us up . . . lock us away so he can’t find us! Look what he did to our Hummer!” the goon yelled pointing to the crushed vehicle slammed into the wall of the bank. “I’d say it’s more like you two were driving a little recklessly,” the officer replied, looking over at the car. “What? How could we flatten a car and then slam its body into cement! Officer, you gotta believe us. He’s fucking Superman! Get us away from him!” the guy screamed. “Sure fellas, sure. And I’m Thor. You should see my hammer. Come on, let’s get moving,” said the officer as he put handcuffs on both goons, careful to not hurt the one with the obvious busted wrist. “So thanks you for your help, mister. I’m assuming by your outfit that you’re not going to want to give me a name and address so we can follow up, are you?” “I think it’s best if you just say you apprehended the two men, officer. Let’s not drag me into anything. I’d really appreciate it,” I said, smiling. “Sure thing, big guy. Again, thanks for your help,” the officer said over his shoulder as he led the two men away. It was a few hours later. The cute officer was walking towards the corner of the building on his way to the detached parking structure, but he couldn’t see me. I was hidden in an unlit entranceway to a nearby building. When he got close and was about to go around the corner I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt and jacket. I yanked him off his feet, spun him around, and pushed him into the wall by pressing my body up against his. I was fully hard and I knew he felt it. I was breathing hard, too. “Thor? Really? I’d like to see your hammer, by the way,” I spat out softly through gritted teeth. “You see my hammer every night and morning . . . isn’t that enough?” he asked, pushing his ass against my hard-on. “Hell no . . . it’s never enough. Here, I’ve got something for you,” I said, slipping what was in my other hand into the front of his pants and underwear so it was against his hard cock. “It’s their revolvers . . . or what’s left of them. You should have seen their faces when I squeezed the shit out of steel guns. My cock’s been throbbing ever since.” “I can feel it throbbing now,” the police officer said, pressing his ass against my hardness. “Did you really need to damage the bank so much? And the Hummer?” “I did it because I knew you’d be the one watching the surveillance footage,” I said, rubbing my hard-on against his ass even harder. “I bet you have to pause it at least three times and make some quick trips to a bathroom stall at the station. Knowing I caused you to dump a few loads makes me happy . . . very happy.” “Those two would-be robbers kept talking about Superman and how this huge hulk of a man did things no one is able to do. All the other officers and prisoners thought they were bat-shit crazy or high as kites. Of course, it’s the third time this month that captured criminals have talked crazily about some huge man in his underwear…” the officer explained. “Posers!” I corrected. “Okay, skimpy-as-hell posers – anyway, it’s the third time people have been arrested and yammered on and on about some guy who ripped the roof off their car to snag them, held the back of their van up in the air with one hand while he flexed the other, or smashed their Hummer. I’m not sure the disbelief is going to continue if you keep showing off,” the officer said. “I can’t help it, officer. It’s the foreplay that builds up my super orgasm – which is always specifically planned for you. Want me to take my business somewhere else?” I said, toying with him. “There’d be consequences, big man . . . if you did that,” he responded as he moved his ass cheeks back and forth across my engorged cock, making me wish the material of his pants and my posers wasn’t there. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do, Captain? Shoot me? We both know I wouldn’t feel a thing. Are you going to run me down with your car? I still wouldn’t feel a thing. Are you going to hit me up the side of my face with your police baton? I’d snap it in two. How about telling the entire force to take me on – I’d plow through every last man with you watching them lose to my strength. Yeah, listen to you moan, officer. I never thought I’d meet someone so much more into muscle power than me. It’s like you’ve got an itch that can’t be scratched,” I pressed my entire huge body against his smaller frame and leaned my head near his so I could whisper in his ear. His face was turned sideways against the brick wall of the building he was compressed against. I brought my right hand up and put the tips of my fingers against the wall – so they were even with his gaze. I then pushed in. Funny thing about bricks and cement – they’re not as strong as one might think. The power behind my hand was just too much for the wall to withstand and my fingers started to poke through it as if it were made only of cardboard. The moans from the police officer became louder as he watched my fingers thrust into solid brick without only a slight shove. Soon, and with very little effort, my palm was against the wall and I had dug in completely. I squeezed the brick I had targeted and pulled – ripping it from the wall as if I were simply extracting some balled up socks from a drawer. The sight of the gaping hole in the wall made the officer moan even louder . . . and it made me press my cock against his ass even harder. I held the brick at eyesight and squeezed as slowly as I could. There was a loud cracking sound and then, suddenly, the brick started to fall apart and bits and pieces dropped to the ground. I continued to crush it into nothing but bits of sand and chunks of cement. “What wimpy things bricks are, don’t you think? I can crush them so easily. It’s amazing that buildings stay standing,” I teased as my hand continued to disintegrate the brick. “They can’t stand if you choose to bring them down,” the officer said, with so much adoration in his voice it made my heart beat faster. “That brick had no chance in hell to last against your power.” “Careful there, buddy. I’m a cannon about to explode and talk like that will definitely cause a huge eruption,” I warned, as the last bits of the now completely destroyed brick fell to the ground and I wiped my dusty hand on his dark uniform, as if to remind him what an alpha I was. “Punch through the wall completely. I want to see what those two guys got to see this evening. Show me how easy it is for you,” the officer ordered and begged at the same time. My cock jerked a few times in the crevice of his ass – like someone was trying to squeeze a giant sausage into a tiny hotdog bun. Slobber ran down the wall from the officer’s mouth – he had been unable to prevent himself from drooling as he watched me crush the brick. I brought a slight dust covered finger up to his mouth and he sucked on it enthusiastically for a few seconds. I thought about how I was helping him get his daily dose of iron. My other hand had slid into the front of his pants between his body and the wall. I was fondling his hard cock, slowly – squeezing it tightly every now and then to tease him with some power – loving how the crushed revolvers were still there. This caused his ass to jolt against my crotch in a very satisfying way. I pulled my finger from his mouth and made a fist with my huge hand. I pressed it against the wall, just above where I had so easily removed the brick. I pushed in, slightly, and we both loved watching cracks suddenly sprout out in all directions on the wall. “How big a hole you want, officer?” I said, making the bricks crack and pop as the cracks got bigger. “As big as you want, huge man,” he replied between heavy breaths – he was getting so turned on. “Let’s not make the building fall down, though . . . that would draw a little attention, don’t you think?” “Wise man. I could just shove the entire thing down a few feet . . . if you wanted me to,” I offered. “It’s connected to all the buildings on this side of the whole block,” the officer said. “So? That just means I’ll move the entire block over a few feet,” I replied . . . knowing he had known I could do it, but he wanted to hear me say it. “Moving twelve or thirteen buildings for you with a little shove would be hot . . . wouldn’t it?” “Everything you do is hot. I want a gaping hole, though,” he answered. “Destruction turns me on.” There it was . . . our little sexual fetish that had united us for an eternity. The officer and I blew our biggest wads when my monstrous arms and big body destroyed something. Yeah, it was fun to lift something . . . or prevent a gunning car from moving with one hand . . . or toss something really heavy miles away . . . but it was when my hands crushed solid brick, bent steal, or ripped apart machinery that we both got over-the-top crazy with excitement. It’s what gave us both super orgasms – me proving things weren’t indestructible. Before he’d been made captain of the force he’d come upon me taking on a gang of fifty guys that had been terrorizing part of our town for a year or so. I had read about all the crime they had been doing and just decided one night that they should be taught a lesson. It turned out my little officer has been watching the gang for a while, too . . . trying to figure out a weakness. It turns out I was what made them weak. He had watched that night as I took on fifty men with weapons like a kid tossing his stuffed animals around the room. Bullets bounced off my mostly naked body, knives bent or broke when thrust into my impenetrable skin, guys were thrown into walls yards away, and I even grabbed the blade of a roaring chainsaw to bend it and rip it from the roaring machine’s body. He told me he came three times while watching me take care of fifty gangsters as if I were merely playing with dolls. I saw the caked mess at his crotch to prove it, too. There, amongst fifty unconscious men tossed in a pile, this revved up officer had ordered me to rip out a huge lamppost from the ground and bend it into something resembling a pretzel. He made me rip apart a car with my bare hands. If one of the guys started to stir he simply told me to thump them hard with my finger to put them to sleep again. I was so blown away by this guy’s insatiable thirst for me showing off my strength that I obeyed his every command like I was his devoted servant. He made me toss him in the air, higher than the buildings around us, and catch him as he came back down. He made me rip out huge chunks of sidewalk and then crush it in my hands. I was so turned on by his need for my strength that I edged myself the entire night – withholding my orgasm until the sun was about to come up. After he ordered me to lift the fifty men and dump them in an empty container nearby, he had me secure the doors to the thing by wrapping the base of a parking meter I had ripped out the ground through the handles. He said he’d have someone at the station saw it off after I carried the container across town. Just before dawn he thanked me for giving him the night of his life. He then told me it was time for me to show my full power. He walked over to me and pulled down my posers, revealing the huge thing that was already quite obvious even through the material. He tugged on the huge thing a few times and pulled it down to watch it go slapping up against my abs again. He then turned me toward the wall of a big warehouse on the other side of the big lot we had been playing in. He reached over and did his best to try and grab my big balls as he instructed me to point my huge cock towards the building. He then ordered me to cum . . . yep, he simply said the word in a commanding tone and my jacked-to-the-max cock blasted so hard it took out most of the wall. The officer had known this would happen. He knew the strength of my orgasms without me even telling him. He squeezed my balls as hard as he could – me barely feeling it, but loving it anyway – until my rod was only dripping big drops of thick cum to the ground. He took a few minutes to go over and look at the destruction my ejaculation had done – unzipping his pants and beating off in front of me as he did. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He then told me to lift him on top of the container and carry the thing to the station. I did what he ordered without any question. He said I also needed to put his car on top of the container so he wouldn’t have to come back for it. The way he just knew what I was capable of . . . and how he clearly loved every second of me doing something like picking up a car . . . was so new to me – so thrilling. He said we had to hurry because we needed the darkness to hide us. He guided me down alleys and back roads so the only people to see us were early morning drunks that no one would believe them when they reported what they saw. He was like a kid, kicking his feet back and forth on the side of the container as I carried it to the station. Once I had the thing situated in the parking lot and I had returned him and his car to the ground, he ordered me to kiss him. Ordered me! And I obeyed! The sun crept over the horizon just as we pulled out faces apart. He was the most gorgeous, sexiest, hunkiest thing I had ever seen. He groped my still-hard cock through my posers for a few seconds and then told me I’d better get going since he wasn’t sharing me with anyone else. Those words pounded in my heart all the way home. I had fallen head-over-heels in love with a police officer who clearly got off on strength as much as I did . . . even more, probably. I knew I needed rest, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now we shared a huge warehouse apartment full of things that I could bend, tear apart, and lift to make him happy. He had also taught me how to control my super orgasms so they wouldn’t always take out buildings . . . unless we wanted them to. His thirst for my strength was endless and it didn’t matter how simple it was – twisting a giant wrench for the thousandth time or how huge – folding up a Honda Civic like it was a t-shirt that needed to be put away. He could still make me ejaculate on command and I enjoyed making him have to wash his uniform every single day – sometimes even more than once – because I’d surprise him with some strength feat before he had time to undress. When he had been made captain he was able to establish ‘Code Humongous’ where he was the only one to respond, since it was always me delivering criminals and showing off my strength. We were both now living the best life ever. “God, I wish you could have seen me demolish that Hummer. You would have especially loved when I ripped off the wheels with one hand,” I said, knowing it would drive him crazy. “Punch the damn wall, big man. Now!” he ordered, needing release in a big way. I always did what he said. It was just one of the most satisfying things I’d ever felt in my entire life – to follow his order . . . to please him . . . to know whatever I was doing would always make him want more. He was so fucking addicted to my power and I was so addicted to him. It was love – and we both knew it – but it was so much hotter to refer to it as his need for super strength and my ability to offer it. He wasn’t ever going to tire of me showing off and I wasn’t ever going to tire of making him happy. Shove a whole block of buildings, punch through a wall, take on an entire army of men at one time . . . all he had to do was ask, no – order me to do it and I would. I brought my arm back and sent it flying through the bricks, easily busting out a huge hole and bringing us both super orgasms at the same time.
  6. dreamboy

    The Gym Janitor Final Chaoter

    I wanna preface this by saying that I apologize for taking so long to wrap this story up. It has been months! But life happens and the groove of things gets lost. Hopefully, this is a satisfying ending. Brace yourselves because this is a very long final chapter. Enjoy! *** “Open.” My lips parted like the red sea. Eagerly vacant and ready to eat just like a baby bird with its mother. Everything was running in slow motion. My eyes darted toward master’s pouted lips gunning a wad of saliva. Drip by drip, his essence glazed down my tongue, through my hole, tickling my uvula softly. “Good bitch!” he growled. His beastly hand gripped my jaw tightly and then took off before smacking my cheek. Many would find discomfort in this, but being with him inverted my nerves, what would cause me pain, suddenly shot down my spine and straight to my cock. The rubbing of his leather suit as he walked me on all fours to his couch echoed, reminiscing about our first encounter in the echoey locker room. He plopped himself across the couch. Pulling at the belt, drawing my head near him. His hot breath steamed my face, smelling of fresh mint. “You’ve wanted this for a while huh?” he whispered. I nodded. I dreaded working the night shift ever since Kyle began scheduling me for it. Every second in what was supposed to be the place where your mind clears out all of the terrible things was a place where I desired to end it all. The night that master set foot on that gym floor, I knew I was supposed to work the night shift for a reason. Where I thought I was working in the bane of my existence delivered to me the sole reason I existed. To serve. To surrender. To become nothing. To become my master’s nothing. “Say it,” he gripped the belt tighter. “Yes.” I gulped. “Yes what?” he barked “Yes- master” I gasped. He forced my head in the direction of his boots. “The best worship starts at the base,” he released his grasp from the belt loosely giving me enough distance to crawl to the other end of his 6-foot frame. My paws were caressing the bulky boots’ laces. Inches away, the strong familiar odor marinated around them. A small part of my brain tickled me pink from the bliss. “Take that dirty boot off you cunt!” master ordered. I swiftly removed the boot and pressed the entry against my snout. A deep inhale permeated my lungs like that first sip of ice water you take after waking up. “Without me even having to tell you,” master snarked, “there’s a good girl.” His calling me “girl” made my hole pulsate. I fixed my eyes on his bare feet. “Just for you,” he wiggled his toes, “I wore no socks the entire day at work.” I moaned at the sight of his sweaty, linty, feet. “Dig in,” he growled. My mouth engulfed his big toe like it was the head of a cock in one slurp. My tongue was sandwiched by his other toes as I slobbered. “Fuuuuuuck yea babe,” he moaned, “just like that. Who’s my good girl?” “Me master,” I spoke. “That’s for fucking sure. How do you like that taste, live up to your expectations?” he asked knowingly. “Its taste is unlocking new tastebuds I never knew I had, I am in ecstasy master,” I moaned. “Of course you are, and what do we say to master?” he asked. “Thank you,” I whimpered. “That’s right,” he leaned back and cupped his bulge, “you keep sucking and I might let you suck something else.” My oral skills were tested, but despite how tiring it can be, my comfort was sacrificed at the expense of his relaxation. My tongue and saliva can even go hours on end until it turns into beef jerky just so he can be satisfied. His sweaty feet pressed against my cheek, draping me in master’s scent. Minutes flew by. “Stop,” he commanded as he stood up from the couch. My leash tightened as he walked us into his bedroom. The door croaked open to expose the golden dome of the master bedroom. The penthouse suite. Fit for a king. “I am impressed,” he glanced, “not a single speck of dust even in the remote to my television, all of my files stacked neatly, my bedsheets practically ironed against the mattress. Open up.” His spit fired inches above my mouth, but before I could swallow, his lips pressed against mine. Was this happening right now? Did Master reward me with a kiss? “Again.” Again. “Swallow.” Swallow. “You liked that?” He beamed. “Yes, master.” “No bitch,” he cackled, “remember the term.” “Yes Daddy,” I gooned. “Good bitch,” he grinned. “Get up here.” He yanked my leash with brute force and my face was met with the crevice of his pit in a split second. The bush tickled my face and slipped into my nostrils completely fumigating my cranium. The smell of new like the smell of brand-new shoes blended in with expensive cologne and musky sweat. Delirium. “Lick that shit bitch!” My tired tongue brushed its surface with Daddy’s armpit hairs. His damp surface hydrated my drying tongue oh so slightly, but just enough to drive me to keep going. Eventually, I trailed my lather towards his nipple. His pec shelf enveloped me with sweat on his chest. “Hell yeah,” Daddy moaned, “you ready?” Without a second thought, he held my skull like a bowl and squeezed me into himself. The tip of my nose touched the base of his skin and my breathing lacked. Both ends of my cheeks hid in the middle of his suffocating bosom. I tapped his shoulder three times for him to release his grasp on me. “You’re at my mercy,” he huffed, “but don’t worry babe I’ll take care of you. I know when to let you breathe. Appreciate the mere fact that you’re getting to do this. Imagine the long line of closeted subs who just gawk at me from afar at the gym. But not you huh bitch? You had the guts to own up to it. To own up to your place beneath me. That’s my good bitch. That’s the sub that deserves to be suffocated by my pecs. A sub that gets to worship me!” A loud growl erupted from his lips as he let go of me. I let out a deep heavy sigh of pleasure. The pain of the pressure is molding me into his jewel for him to flaunt. Just like the rest of his golden throne and life of luxury, another piece of property manifests itself into the sub that I am becoming. Something he owns that he prides himself in. “Fuck yeah boy c’mere,” he growled. Our lips interfaced, violent wrestling against each other, but he reigns first. His tongue pierced inside my mouth filling the cavity and swirling inside. The sensation was so surreal my cock immediately ruptured with cum. My entire body twitched as he kept kissing me. Large strips of cum shot against Daddy’s hairy torso. His hand caressed my nipple triggering an even more euphoric sensation that made me ejaculate more. “You were supposed to wait for my command,” he chuckled, “but knowing THAT’S the power I hold over you is getting me bricked.” He undid his pants to reveal the gargantuan cock underneath. The massive Pringles can likeness of cock swung between us, dwarfing my leaking clit. “My turn,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ll work you through it, but you WILL reach the base of my cock.” I assumed the position on all fours meeting at eye level with his cock. Already leaking precum, like a lollipop I engulfed the head. The back of my mouth bobbs up and down as he thrusts his hips in unison. “Fuck yeah baby,” he moaned, “suck it like it’s the air you breathe.” His comments inspired me to throat him more. My gag reflex was fighting demons as I furthered his shaft down my throat. The reflex won over as his tip scratched the top of my throat. “Fuck you suck it so good,” Daddy panted, “you suck better than any bitch I’ve had before. DAMN! Look at you, a cock starved whore! That’s a good girl!” With his member still in me I moaned as if my G-spot was in my throat. In and out he slid, a rhythm not even the world’s most renowned musicians could replicate. The gagging mixed with the slobbering all to the beat of my master’s panting. The face fuck of a lifetime. “Oh keep sucking it just like that,” he stroked his hips back and forth faster. My airways sealed but I couldn't care less. A hardwired lust grew tender within me. My gag reflex began to dissipate as every inch penetrated my hole. The edges of my lips lubricated in saliva and snot. The musky ball sweat imprinted across my skin. “You ready boy?” He shouted. “Open that fucking throat. ARGHHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head as each shot pulsated and traversed down my throat. And the base of his cock kissed my lips. “Swallow it all!” He barked. “Don’t you dare waste a drop!” And swallow it I did. The sea salt kettle corn flavor of his buttery cum immersed the pores of my tongue. The most addicting substance of all. “Finally,” I sighed. “Haha!” Daddy cackled. “How was it, boy?” “Purposeful,” I began, “like a piece of me was missing.” “I am that missing piece,” he huffed, “nothing will ever feel as good as serving your master, will it boy?” “No Daddy,” I bit my lip. “Your mind is mine,” he growled, “your clit is mine, your holes are mine, but above it all…” He leans forward and kisses me. “You are mine.” He smirked. “Understood?” “Yes sir!” I said. “You only respond to me from now on,” he said sternly, “quit your job. Fuck Kyle. His piece of shit gym does not deserve someone as attentive as you. I’ll take care of you from this moment forward.” His beastly hand caressed my cheek ever so softly. My eyes watered with joy as I realized how blissful it is to serve. To devote every fiber of my being to him. To abide by what he says cause in the end, I gain a lifetime of exploring his psyche, his desires, and his strength. “Or does that not sound promising enough?” he asked knowingly. “Yes,” I chuckled, “I am yours. I answer to you alone master. No matter the odds. I'm just taken aback by how I kept sniffing your sweaty rag a few days ago, to getting the privilege of you cumming in me all within a week!” “That’s a good boy,” he winked, “it is a privilege, but this is just the beginning.” He smacked my ass and nudged me towards the restroom. “Let’s get ya’ cleaned up.” The End
  7. PhantomderOma

    Flo und ich [German shortish story]

    Moin! Ewig hier, nie was geschrieben. Während ich die ein oder andere Geschichte mal angefangen habe, hat es nie eine in einen postwürdigen Zustand gebracht. In einem plötzlichen Anfall von Inspiration hab ich mir jetzt gedacht, dass ich mal einen ziemlich guten Traum, den ich vor einigen Monaten hatte, mal als Grundlage für eine neue Geschichte nehme. Also, das ganze ist zwar nicht biografisch aber wie man das so kennt, basiert ja alles Geträumte auf was Erlebten. Ich tendiere zum labern, weswegen eine einzelne kurze Traumwunschvorstellung in eine mehrkapitelige (so ca. ... 3?) angewachsen ist. Das Ganze ist eher auf der realistischeren Seite des Spektrums verortet. Eigentlich gefallen mir die Figuren ganz gut, weswegen es vielleicht auch den einen oder anderen Ableger oder Nachfolgestories gibt, in denen man dann das eine oder andere ausprobieren kann. Gebt mir gerne Rückmeldung ob/wie es euch gefallen hat oder was ihr gerne ausprobiert haben möchtet. Wie gesagt, ich neige zum Schwafeln, das erste Kapitel ist eher eine lange Einleitung, von daher werden die weiteren Kapitel knapper, heißer, mehr zum Punkt. Viel Spaß Flo und ich - Teil 1 Die Straßenecke sah noch genauso aus wie damals: Der Kiosk an der Ecke, daneben der Gemüsehändler, gegenüber der Edeka an der Bushaltestelle. Und genau wie früher sahen die umgebenden Gebäude auch immer noch etwas schäbig aus. Aber sein wir ehrlich, nach 6 Jahren hätte ich wohl weder etwaige Unterschiede wirklich gemerkt, noch weiß ich, was ich erwartet hatte. 6 Jahre waren eigentlich nicht so lang… Eigentlich. An die Haustür erinnerte ich mich noch und auf dem Klingelschild stand immer noch der gleiche Name: F. Schumann. Ich klingelte und wartete. Sechs Jahre. Was in der Zeit nicht alles passiert war. Als ich das letzte Mal hier stand fühlte es sich an wie ein anderes Leben. Und gleichzeitig hatte ich immer das Gefühl, dass "auf der anderen Seite", die Seite, die ich zurückgelassen hatte, die Pausetaste gedrückt worden war und alles genau so auf mich wartete, wie ich es zurückgelassen hatte. Bei meinem ersten Besuch in der Heimat, nach ca. einem Jahr, kam dann die große Überraschung, als ich feststellen musste, dass dem nicht so war. Ich schüttelte leicht den Kopf, wie um die Gedanken wegzujagen und fokussierte mich wieder auf das Klingelschild. Es kam mir vor, als stünde ich jetzt hier schon viel zu lange. Ich klingelte noch einmal. So als wäre ich Flo mit dem zweiten Klingeln einfach nur zuvorgekommen summte der Türöffner nur ein paar Sekunden nach dem Klingeln. Ich stieß die Tür auf und trat ein. Drinnen überlegte ich, den Lift zu nehmen - es war immerhin der 6. Stock, ganz oben - entschied mich aber für die Treppe. Auch wenn mein Fitnesslevel noch zu wünschen übriglies, motivierte ich mich, den Aufstieg als kleines Training zu sehen. Als ich im 1. Stock angekommen war, verfalle ich wieder ins Überlegen. Wann hatte ich Flo das letzte Mal gesehen? Wir sind uns, wie ich alle meine Schwulen Freunde kennengelernt habe, auf einer Datingplattform getroffen. Nach einigem Schreiben haben wir uns bei ihm in der Stadt - nur knappe 40 min weg - auf ein Date getroffen. Aus einem wurden 2, wurden 3. Aber dann war der Groschen auch gefallen. Obwohl Flo mit seiner verschmitzten Art süß war, mit seinem eher kleinen Körperwuchs in Kombination mit einem eher kantigen aber nicht sonderlichen Körperbau durchaus meinem Beuteschema entsprach und wir einen ähnlichen Humor hatten, war der Funke nicht übergesprungen. Auch nicht beim dritten Mal, bei dem wir auf seiner Couch halb in Stimmung und eher peinlich als sexy an uns herumfummelten und wir es dann unangenehm berührt abbrachen. Wir funktionierten einfach besser als Freunde und das war das eindeutige Zeichen. Zwar trieb mir die Vorstellung dieses ersten und letzten Males ein kleines bisschen die Schamesröte ins Gesicht, ich hatte mich aber schon lange damit abgefunden, dass meine Zwanziger und die damit einhergehende verspätete schwule Pubertät einfach kein goldenes Kapitel in meinem Leben waren. Sechs Jahre und ein anderes Leben. Wir blieben Freunde, schrieben mehr miteinander, als dass wir uns sahen. Als ich mich dann entschloss, für meinem ersten Job ins Ausland, und damit 1000 Kilometer weit weg zu ziehen, überlebte die Freundschaft noch ca. eineinhalb Jahre und verlief sich dann im Sand. Ich glaube, dass keiner darüber sauer oder verstimmt war, vielmehr fühlte es sich ganz normal an - so läuft das halt! Immer mal wieder wurden Bilder von Flo in den Insta-Algorithmus gespült und erinnerten mich daran, dass es ihn ja auch noch gab. Aber auch die Häufigkeit dieser Erinnerungsposts lies nach einer Änderung im Code der Plattform weiter nach und die Bilder tauchten irgendwann gar nicht mehr auf. Zu wenig Interaktion, ausgeblendet. Jetzt war ich kurz davor wieder nach Deutschland gezogen: Ich war meiner Intuition gefolgt und mich auf eine Stelle ganz nah meiner alten Heimat beworben, gerade in der Stadt, 40 Minuten von meiner alten Heimat entfernt und ihn schlussendlich auch bekommen. Aber mit der Bewerbung kam auch die Erinnerung an Flo und die bis dahin vergessene gemeinsame Zeit hoch. Wie wir uns gegenseitig die Kerle zugeschickt hatten, die wir gut fanden, wie ich ihm gebeichtet hatte, dass ich immer mal was mit einem richtigen Muskelmann haben wollte - eine Wortwahl, bei der sich immer noch die Fußnägel hochrollen. Mittlerweile nutze ich ein viel direkteres und ausgefuchsteres Vokabular - haben wollte. Wie er in einer unglücklichen Beziehung war und ich am Handy den Therapeuten spielen musste. Das waren schon Zeiten. Damals in diesem Leben vor 6 Jahren. Ich schnaufte mittlerweile, als ich kurz auf der 4. Etage halt mache. Weiter gehts, zwei Stockwerke noch! Meine Oberschenkel brannten mittlerweile. Und so hatte ich vor zwei Wochen, ein Vorbereitungsbesuch bei neuen Arbeitgeber stand kurz bevor, Whatsapp aufgemacht und geschaut, ob Flo immer noch die gleiche Nummer nutzt. Das kleine Profilbild war nur ein cartoonartiger Plattenteller, kein erkennbares Gesicht, aber das schien mir ganz nach seiner Fasson zu sein. Ein kurzes "Hi, ist das immer noch die Nummer von Flo?" und das darauffolgende „Jup“ gab mir dann dir Gewissheit. Wir schrieben hin und her und da ich eh um diese Zeit in der alten Heimat war, verabredeten wir uns kurzentschlossen für den Abend bevor ich wieder zurückfliegen sollte. Als ich sein Profil auf Instagram suchte, merkte ich, dass es schlicht und ergreifend nicht mehr auffindbar war. Für heute war ein bequemes Feierabendbier angesagt, von mir aus konnte es auch ruhig etwas später werden, ich war in Feierlaune und ich erinnerte mich, dass mit ein paar Bier der etwas schüchterne Flo das schlagende Herz jeder Party wurde. Die letzten Stufen hatte ich ein vorfreudiges Grinsen im mittlerweile rot angelaufenen Gesicht. Ich war angekommen. Meine Beine pochten mittlerweile und ich war doch deutlich außer Atem. Ich weiß nicht, ob ich dieses „kleine Workout“, bzw. meine Idiotie insgeheim hasste oder liebte. Die Tür stand angelehnt offen, kein Flo zur Begrüßung da. Vielleicht war er gerade in der Küche am Kochen oder so. Das würde auch das Warten bei der Klingel erklären. Oder das Bad. Aber ich tippte auf Küche. Ich ging rein und schloss die Tür hinter mir. Keiner da. "Bin im Bad! Setz dich ins Wohnzimmer, ich komme gleich" Das Bad, damn. Ich fluchte innerlich, weil ich eine völlig beknackte Wette gegen mich selber verloren hatte. Nachdem ich mir keuchend die Sneaker ausgezogen hatte, ging ich ins Wohnzimmer und lies mich auf das Sofa plumpsen. Ich schaute mich kurz um und musste feststellen, dass sich nicht so viel verändert hatte. Hier funktionierte die Pausetaste also. In dem eh sehr aufgeräumten Wohnzimmer der kleinen 45m²-Neubauwohnung war es schon immer sehr übersichtlich und aufgeräumt gewesen. Das Auffälligste war, dass anstelle der PS4, die bullige PS5 stand. Flo war trotz seines eher grobschlächtig-verbrecherischem Äußeren insgeheim ein kleiner Nerd und Zocker. Ich schaute aus dem Fenster über den Balkon in den trüben, typisch norddeutschen Himmel und lasse meinen Atem zur Ruhe kommen. Dann höre ich Rascheln aus dem Badezimmer, was direkt in die Wohnküche abging, und drehe mich zur halb verdeckten Tür. Hinaus kam eine Gestalt, die ich so gar nicht erwartete. Sie hatte nichts mit der linkischen vom Flo aus der Erinnerung gemein. Ich sah ein schwarzes T-Shirt mit einem knackig-breiten Kreuz, eine massive Hand, die ein Handtuch hielt, mit der die Gestalt sich die Haare trockenrubbelte. Ich sah die Ader auf dem freiliegenden Unterarm. Dieser Anblick irritiert mich so sehr, dass mein Hirn in den Panikmodus schaltete, sich meine Gedanken überschlugen und die Zeit sich anfühlte, als wäre sie extrem verlangsamt und mein Hirn versuchte, die Infos der Augen zu irgendeiner Analyse der Situation heranzuziehen. Hatte Flo etwa noch einen Fuckboy oder Stecher dagehabt? Oder, nein! Das am anderen Ende des Handys war gar nicht Flo gewesen und da hat sich jemand anders einen Spaß gemacht! Ach, Schwachsinn! Warum sollte dann Flos Name unten an der Tür stehen. Während sich meine Gedanken so überschlugen, zog die Gestalt das Handtuch aus dem Gesicht und grinste mich breit und linkisch an. "Sorry, kam gerade aus dem Gym. Hab beim Training die Zeit vergessen" Jetzt wo ich das Gesicht sah, konnte ich eindeutig sagen: Es war Flo. Jedenfalls Flos Gesicht auf einem ziemlich anderen Körper. Ich sah an ihm vorbei, und nun fielen mir die vielen Kleinen Änderungen auf: Eine übergroße Dose Whey hier, ein Terraband da, auf dem Tisch ein Paar Lifter-Handschuhe. Meine Augen huschten wieder zu Flo. Mein Mund klappte auf. Flo grinste mich immer noch an, das Handtuch um den Hals gelegt, die Hände an den Enden, die Unterarme zu mir ausgerichtet. Beide hatten Adern und waren etwas angespannt vom Greifen. Dahinter wölbten sich deutlich zwei Bizepsbälle. "Haben uns lange nicht gesehen!" "Gy... Gym?", bringe ich stotternd und zusammenhangslos raus. "Achso, ja. Das weißt du gar nicht. Ich hab mit Trainieren angefangen" "Daa... das sehe ich", bringe ich gerade so raus. Flo guckt etwas verlegen weg. Wahrscheinlich konnte er meine Reaktion nicht so richtig einordnen. "Jaaa, äh ... hätte ja nicht gedacht, dass ich einer von denen werde, aber .. da sind wir jetzt" Ich war etwas perplex. Der Besuch verlief so ganz anders, als ich ihn mir vorgestellt hatte. Aber was meinte er mit ... "Was meinst du mit "einer von denen"?" Bitte, lass es ihn sagen, betete ich zum Gott der Lüste. "Naja..." Bitte! "Einer von diesen Bodybuildern." Das konnte doch nicht wirklich passieren! Worte und Beschreibungen hatten mich schon immer angemacht, dieses Wort mit all seinen Konnotationen ganz besonders. "Einer dieser muscle heads, weißte?" Es fühlte sich an wie ein doppelter 6er im Lotto.
  8. **DISCLAIMER** This fictional story includes taboo themes (incest). So if you're not into incest, then this story ain't for you. Chapter 1 Burt Hoffman is an old farmer in the state of Texas. He is a skinny 80 yr. old man, weighs 120 lbs., with a height of 5'10, sporting a thin mustache and white balding hair. During farm work, he was always wearing the same old baggy red plaid shirt, jeans, dark blue bib-and-brace overalls, brown boots, and a handmade wheat hat. He has been working on his family's farm since he was 12 years old. After his parent's passing, he continued to work on the farm as his only means of livelihood. Burt and his grandson, Gary Hoffman, have been very close since Gary was 10 years old. Gary enlisted in the army after his 20th birthday and left the rural town. Burt and Gary never missed a chance to exchange letters with each other during their time apart. Gary would eventually return to town after 15 years, only to deliver the news to his grandfather that he was retired. He would stay with his other relatives in New York for a while to plan his next endeavor in life. Burt was happy for Gary with his retirement and new life. Gary would visit back to the farm quite often to help Grandpa Burt with the farm. A year later, Gary told Burt during his last visit that he would take permanent residence back to the farm to help his grandpa. Burt wanted to reconnect with his beloved grandfather after years of no physical contact. Grandpa Burt was delighted with this news, wanting to spend the rest of his days with his beloved grandson. - A month later... in the fields of the farm- Grandpa Burt was excited as he worked on his farm duties. Tomorrow is the day his grandson will stay with him on the farm. But he was also nervous because of the strange feelings that he developed from all the times that he spent with Burt after his return. It was a surprise that Gary never pursued any romantic relationship or showed any interest in anyone. He asked his grandson every time they met if he ever had anyone he was interested in. And Gary would always tell him that no one would want a useless muscle head. However, Burt thought differently, especially when he and Gary would work. Gary often works shirtless because says that doing any farm work with clothes feels way too constricting. At 38, Gary had developed a 230 lbs. bodybuilder body due to his time in the army. Well-defined chest, abs, shoulders, and arms, and with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair on his torso make up his virile body. And his face... he was like modern-day Zeus. Gary's face looked rough with his piercing blue eyes, his angular jaw, and his white well-groomed beard and full head of hair. But despite his tough look, he was caring and gentle, especially around his Grandpa Burt. It was then Burt realized that he had developed taboo love with his grandson. But he knows that his feelings are wrong, disrespectful, and most of all disgusting. Due to his old age, he did not want to ruin his relationship with his grandson after all these years apart. Still, needs to find a way to suppress and change his feelings for Gary before he ever regrets it. Burt was plowing his fields when he stumbled upon something unusual. "What the fuck is this thing. It's glowing too..." Burt said while getting closer to a massive crater. Something was shining in the middle of the crater. It looked like a meteorite that had fallen from outer space, crashing onto his land. Without thinking twice, he went closer and picked it up. Suddenly a sharp pain spread across his body, like lightning struck him. He woke up after being knocked out. Burt forgot what had just happened due to the sudden shock. Then, he noticed that a rock began to disintegrate into nothing. He was confused for a second, but quickly dismissed it and went back to work. If only he knew that the following events will change his life forever. -8:00 PM / Farmhouse- After finishing his dinner, he decided to sleep early to prepare for tomorrow. He brushed his teeth and went straight to bed. As soon as he entered his bedroom, ready to flop down on the mattress, he felt a sudden surge of energy coursing through his body. His skin began to tingle, and his muscles started to tighten. Beads of sweat began to cover his body. Grabbing his chest, "Shit, what's happening to me?!" He stumbled backward and fell with his back on the bedroom door. Grandpa Burt's body began to throb slowly as his body produced more sweat, and gritted his teeth in pain. And after a few seconds, his body began to pulsate even faster. Suddenly, he felt his chest push further away from his body every time it throbbed. It also started happening to his stomach, arms, legs, neck, and back. Grandpa Burt's pair of boots started to feel increasingly snug around his feet. The sensation was initially subtle, barely noticeable, yet gradually intensified as he felt his frame continued to change. It wasn't just his feet that were experiencing a transformation; his legs too were undergoing an extraordinary transformation. With each passing moment, his thighs, calves, and ass seemed to swell, causing his jeans and overalls to stretch taut against his newfound bulk. A surge of power coursed through him, traveling through his torso as his abdominal muscles began to bulge, pushing their way outward from within his body. His back, meanwhile, displayed similar signs of change, displaying increased strength and definition in his lats and trap muscles. Blood rushed towards his pectorals, which expanded further still, straining the buttons on his plaid shirt to the point where they eventually flew off into different corners of the room. As the transformation progressed, Burt noticed that not only did his arms expand with mass, but so did his hands, growing larger and more rugged. Simultaneously, his neck thickened while his trap muscles continued to develop. The combined growth of his back, lats, traps, neck, and pecs caused his plaid shirt and the top of his overalls to burst, and torn pieces of fabric went flying in all directions. The growth was reaching its peak when Grandpa Burt's face underwent a dramatic alteration. His features changed, becoming more pronounced and masculine, as the heat emanating from his body became palpable. With slow and steady movements, Grandpa Burt tried to stand up. But he quickly fell to his knees as he felt the last part of the change takes place. While on his knees, Grandpa Burt groaned and grimaced with each passing second as he felt his aching penis grow larger and harder against his clothes. He moaned and groaned as his growing cock continued to swell. Finally, the growth came to an end as his overalls and jeans exploded from his monstrous tree trunk legs, leaving behind a once skinny old man, into a colossal figure of pure masculinity. Grandpa Burt had transformed into a towering giant of a man, with thick, curly white hair covering every inch of his body. He finally had enough strength to stand up from his knees. His chest was massive, with ripped abs and pecs that seemed to stretch on for miles. The white briefs remained attached to him, though they stuck to him so tight and threatened to burst at a single flex of his ass muscles and cock. "Holy shit, what the fuck happened to me?", he said while panting. "Wait, was that my voice just now? Oh fuck my voice got deeper!", he exclaimed as he got startled by his now deeper voice. "Oh fuck, it's so tight.", his mind suddenly focused on his growing cock. He could feel his cock growing harder and longer with each passing second, straining against his jeans and overalls. "Shit, look at these arms. I'm huge!" As he flexed his biceps, he couldn't help but marvel at how much stronger he had become. A wet spot began to form on his jeans as his balls had transformed into a cum factory. The memories of his old self were still fresh in his mind, and he struggled to come to terms with this drastic transformation. That is until his curiosity overtook his concerns. "Only one way to find out how big I've gotten." Feeling a sudden urge to see himself in the mirror, he turned towards the bathroom and caught a glimpse of his reflection. What he saw left him utterly speechless. Grandpa Burt's transformation was astonishing. The frail figure that once stood before him had vanished, replaced by an imposing mountain of raw masculine power. Gone were the days when his bones seemed to poke through his skin; instead, they were hidden beneath a solid layer of muscle. What once weighed just 120 pounds had swelled to a staggering 450 pounds, turning Grandpa Burt into a veritable colossus. Despite this drastic change in physique, there were some aspects of his appearance that remained untouched. His wrinkled face still remained, although it had taken on a more rugged, masculine air. Thick, caveman-like brows framed his eyes, while his once-bald pate had sprouted a covering of short white hair. A sparse stubble adorned his face, adding a touch of virility to his mustache. As he explored these new sensations, running his hands across his chest, he couldn't help but marvel at the dense layers of hair and bulging muscles beneath his fingertips. Grandpa Burt now fully savored the results of his muscular transformation. As the beast looked down upon himself, he marveled at the sculpted body that emerged before him. His once-flabby midsection had been replaced by an impressively toned six-pack, each individual ridge standing out prominently against his newly acquired muscle mass. The growth wasn't limited to just his abdominal region; his massive chest also displayed a remarkable development. The previously unremarkable nipples were now noticeably visible beneath the layers of his chest hair as they stood hard and erect. His arms, which had initially seemed weak and feeble, had evolved into a pair of formidable monster-like arms. Grandpa Burt could hardly contain his excitement as he admired his newfound strength. His entire body was covered in a fine layer of snowy white fur, adding an extra touch of elegance to his appearance. Bulging veins crisscrossed his neck, chest, abdomen, and arms, further accentuating his newly developed physique. With pride swelling within him, he flexed his arms into a double bicep pose, reveling in the sheer power emanating from his enhanced physique. "Hell yeah, I'm a fucking muscle beast!" Having lifted both his muscled arms, his powerful musk from his hairy sweaty pits and body filled the bathroom. This sudden muscle growth was too much for him to contain as he felt the erect caged beast straining against the remainder of his clothes. "Let's see what kind of monster my cock has become…" Grandpa Burt said with lust in his manly voice. Now with lust surging in his mind and body, he used both of his beast-like hands to tear away his straining white briefs in one swift motion. His now 12-inch beer can thick erection sprang free from its cage, bobbing and throbbing eagerly in front of him as it constantly leaked precum. The hairy bush surrounding his cock had also grown, connecting to the white happy trail on his muscled torso. "Oh my god, is this veiny monster really mine?" With Grandpa Burt's muscle cock being freed from the confines of his white undies, the manly musk coming from his pits and cock was so intoxicating that it sent his libido to maximum levels. "Hmmm I thought I would smell disgusting..." He then brought his face on his left hairy pit and inhaled his natural musk. "but I smell so fucking good!", he roared With his left hand, Burt cupped and massaged his big and hairy balls, which are hot to the touch. And wrapped his meaty right hand around his monster cock, stroking it slowly, feeling the thick veins mapped around his newly grown manhood, and savoring every moment of this new experience. All the while admiring his new masculine face and beastly body. "Oooohhh, this ultra-masculine body is so hot and sexy. And I look so handsome too..." Grandpa Burt slowly dragged his left hand from his balls to the rest of his muscled body. With his meaty hand, he traced the massive expanse of his being. The ridges and blocks of his hard cobblestone abs, his bulging mountains of pecs, his globe-shape delts, and his monster-sized neck. He massaged his jaw, feeling his stubble and mustache which greatly turned him on. Returning to his chest, he alternately pinched and massaged his erect nipples. He began to beat his cock with more caress, wanting to explore every part of his massive shaft. His hand landed on his bush as he stroked downward, feeling every throbbing vein on his pole with every stroke, and massaging the tip and piss slit of the bulging head of his cock. From his cock leaking a steady amount of precum, his monster manhood now leaked like a broken faucet as it kept spraying large amounts of precum. He spat his spit on his cock, adding another layer of lube from his precum. His precum and spit covered his meaty cock, which made him increase his pace even more. Burt grunted and muttered to himself, "Hmmmm yes. Big fucki'n muscle cock... musky beast body." The new muscle beast body and monster cock that Grandpa Burt now possessed greatly turned him on as his muscle worship went on. He was now the biggest in town, and the thought that perhaps he could get bigger crossed his mind. Yes... He will be even bigger. The biggest in the world! And bigger than Gary! ... Gary. Suddenly, Grandpa Burt's memories of his beloved grandson flashed before his eyes. And Burt's mind lingered on all the times Gary worked shirtless with his hot and sexy body exposed. Gary's hairy muscled body... "Oh my beautiful boy..." *stroking his cock faster* His handsome face... "I love you so much" *twisting his left nipple* And in his mind, Gary smiled and whispered something that would finish Grandpa Burt's self-loving session. "I love you too daddy." His words echoed through the real world And with that reality-snapping response, Grandpa Burt flexed every muscle of his body and roared like a beast so loud that it shook the walls and the mirror. "GRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH !" And his now purple-muscle beast of a cock erupted like a volcano, spewing gallons of thick, hot, and heavy cum all over the bathroom. Cum splattered on the walls, the mirror, the floor, the ceiling, and Burt's tense muscle body. "FUCK YEAH MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRREEE" He continued to pound his meat with his right hand, while his left arm was flexing with every fiber of muscle along with the rest of Grandpa Burt's body. After cumming for about 3 minutes, his cock stopped emptying his massive balls and began to slowly deflate. Grandpa Burt staggered backward on the cum covered wall and sat down to rest. He had a smile on his face, still reminiscing the memories of Gary in his mind. Lifting his huge right hand to his face, curiosity and his remaining lust still enveloped his mind as he licked his muscle beast cum on his paw. "Hmmmmm~ sooooo goooood." He then decided to clean up all the cum in the bathroom before it dries up. His new height enabled him to clean the ceiling of the bathroom with ease. Discarding his shredded clothes in the trash, Burt proceeded to clean himself in the shower with cold water to cool down his body. After 15 minutes, he exited from the shower and dried himself up. Watching himself dry his body made him horny again as he moaned with renewed lust. Grandpa Burt raised and flexed his left arm, bringing his engorged bicep to his face. He then licked and sucked on his flexed bicep while groping the rest of his beastly form with his right hand. And after 5 minutes of muscle worship, he decided to lay down and rest on his now small bed. Lying down in bed with his glorious muscled body exposed, Grandpa Burt now pieced together that the changes were caused by the meteorite he found. Whatever power inside the meteorite must have transferred to his body immediately after making contact. But even though he felt more powerful than ever before, there was still a nagging sense of unease deep inside him. Deep inside, he still felt locked in a cage of shame despite his growing confidence. Grandpa Burt couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of his immense frame. He couldn't help but wonder about what the future held for him as he pondered on the mattress. Would he continue to grow? Would he become even stronger? And what would Gary think of him now? Deep inside, he still felt locked in a cage of shame despite his growing confidence. All these boasting about his newly muscled body to himself could not free him from the shame of falling in love with his beloved grandson. These thoughts swirled in Grandpa Burt's mind until he drifted off to sleep. To be continued... Note: First attempt at a story, lemme know what you think. thanks for reading
  9. This is my first attempt at putting a muscle growth story out there - hopefully you all like it and I’ll be doing more! In summary: the skinny nerd nextdoor takes a muscle growth potion to win his crush over, but ends up getting a lot bigger, and beastlier, than he was expecting. Part I “Keep pushing, it’ll slide right in once you’ve loosened it up a bit. Of course it will! Just a bit firmer… Yes, that’s it… that’s it!” Jake was enjoying pumpkin carving with Fred. Fred was his neighbour and Jake had invited him round to help prepare for Halloween, partly because he suspected he’d have just spent the whole day gaming otherwise. Fred was, of course, your typical nerd. He was small - made even smaller by the way he carried himself slightly hunched over, as if to take up as little room as possible - and slight, with huge glasses that seemed to swallow his face. Jake had taken pity on him when he first moved in next door and they’d since grown very close. It was hard not to like Fred. He was polite and contentious. And even if he did have a tendency to ramble on about chemistry, he hung on every word Jake said. If Fred had shown any signs of having a sexuality, Jake would have assumed he had a crush on him. But, refreshingly, Fred was just genuinely interested in what Jake had to say. It made a difference from all the monosyllabic men on the dating apps, and the ones in the bar who cared a lot more about his head than his mind. But unfortunately for Jake, that was his dating reality and he was having to do the best he could. And it didn't help that he was absolutely devoted to muscle. He had some hope for his latest situationship Kevin. He wasn't huge, but he spent most days in the gym and loved showing off his hard work. Nor was he exactly perfect boyfriend material - his idea of a romantic night in was a threesome - but he did at least, generally, reply, and not *always* just because he was horny. Jake knew he was clutching at straws, but it was better to have a handful of straws and dick than an empty palm. Jake was hoping to ask Kevin whether he'd consider going exclusive, and he'd decided Halloween was the best day to do it. The extra magic in the air might just make this miracle possible. So today, he and Fred had been setting up for a spooky night in for Jake and Kevin. Fred had seemed a bit reluctant to help out but Jake wasn’t going to let him waste the best holiday of the year. Plus he hadn’t seen much of his friend in the past couple of weeks. He’d apparently been working on a special project which he refused to tell Jake any more about. As they were putting some finishing touches, he'd found Fred trying to lift an axe they'd planned to bury into the doorframe. It was a pretty pathetic sight - the weedy geek could barely lift up the heavy metal head, let alone bury it into the wall. Jake watched him for a few moments, and was about to offer to help when he heard Fred muttering to himself... 'See, Fred, you can't even pick up an axe. A goddamn axe.' He tried to lift it above his shoulder and swing it into the doorframe, but instead it bounced against the door and fell to the ground with a clatter as he weakly flailed. ‘Right, that's it. I'm going to do it. I bet Kevin wouldn't have trouble with a bloody axe. I'm going to do it. Soon...' Jake had snuck away, not wanting to embarrass his friend. But also a little bit concerned. He hoped he hadn't been comparing himself to the photos he'd shown him of Kevin. He knew how it could be with these smaller men and their insecurities, but Fred had always seemed to be above that kind of thing. But watching that had also reminded him why he wanted a man like Kevin around the place… Just then, he got a text. “Sorry mate, (Kevin preferred to call him mate. Jake suspected it was to avoid any kind of intimacy...). I’m going to have to bail on tonight. I totally forgot I’d agreed me and my mates would be going out tonight and you know what they’re like if I try to say no! Is that OK?” “Ah, OK, no worries,” replied Jake, hating himself as he did so. “Ah, thanks mate. I hope you didn’t go to too much effort?” Looking round the room decked floor to ceiling in decorations that had taken the best part of the day to set up, Jake lied: “Nah, I was pretty chill about it.” “Phew! If I’m in any fit state, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he added, with a wink and an aubergine. Jake couldn’t help but blush and felt a stirring in his pants. “I’ll look forward to it,” he purred back. And that was that. “Everything OK?” asked Fred, in a voice Jake couldn’t stop himself from thinking sounded so reedy and weak compared to Kevin’s deep gruffness. But then again, he also couldn’t remember the last time Kevin had ever asked how he was feeling… “Yeah, fine. Kevin can’t make it now.” “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!” “Oh god no, don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m just sorry to have wasted our time!” “No, I absolutely love spending my time setting up a spooky love nest for you and your douchebag boyfriend,” said Fred, with a bit of a grin. “Hey! First off, he’s not my boyfriend, you know we’re not going to put a label on it so soon…” “Six months?” “AND,” I added, ignoring that last comment, “he’s not a douchebag, I just overdo it sometimes.” “Well, you know what I think of him. He’s not good for you, and you really don’t need to put up with it.” We’d talked about this many times. It was so hard to explain to Fred why I was attracted to Kevin. I didn’t want to tell him the truth which I probably hadn’t even admitted to myself yet - that I was attracted to his brutishness. I chose to see his dismissiveness as confidence, as masculinity. Clearly I’d been fucked up by the patriarchy and now I was looking to be fucked by it too. But Fred just didn’t get it… Frankly, I wasn’t even sure if Fred understood sexual urges at all. He was perfectly happy to criticise my taste in men, but became completely evasive when it came to talking about his own interests. I knew he spent a lot of time on the computer and suspected a large chunk of that was on some pretty out there interests. Probably tentacles or something - it would explain why he always got so tongue-tied and awkward when I asked him about his sex life. “You were probably just as right the first time you told me that, but here we are,” Jake sighed. “Anyway, seems a waste for us not to enjoy our hard work… D’you want to spend the evening here?” Fred thought for a little longer than Jake would have expected, given he surely didn’t have anything else on, and then, with more conviction than the question merited, said… “Yes. Why not tonight? Sure. I’ll just go round to mine quickly and… prepare.” “Sure, whatever, I’ll get into a costume too. See you in about 30 minutes?” “Yes, that’s about all the time I’ll need to sort out my… costume… See you shortly!” Fred left for his, a look on his face Jake could only describe as determined. His eyes were burning with some kind of purpose and his jaw set in a way he hadn’t seen it before. “Well, I’ve clearly made his day,” Jake thought to himself. On his own, Jake got into his halloween outfit - he’d selected a pretty unsubtle body-tight angel outfit which really showed off his assets when he'd thought it would be just him and Kevin. But it wasn’t so slutty he couldn’t still wear it with Fred and who knew, he might enjoy it! A short time later, as Jake lit the candles in the pumpkins, there was a knock on the door. Fred stood in a ridiculously baggy lumberjack outfit, with a shirt which he was almost lost in and trousers which swamped his legs. He also looked visibly paler and a was anxiously jigging from foot to foot, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Jake in his outfit. “Oh wow,” he exclaimed, breathing out shakily. “Oh this little thing?” laughed Jake, giving a twirl. “Yeah, it might be a bit much…” “No, no - you look amazing,” insisted Fred, a slightly hungry look in his eyes Jake hadn’t seen before. Well well well, maybe little Fred had interests beyond chemistry and gaming… “Well, don’t stand out there gawping, come on in.” Outside, rain was beginning to hammer down, and a gale was rising, sending the thick bows of the trees whipping across the street. A storm was brewing in the dark of the night... Jake pulled Fred in by hand, which felt a little bit clammy with nervous sweat, as he seemed to have become frozen. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, feeling a little awkward under Fred’s stare. His friend’s eyes seemed to burn in the flickering light of the jack-o-lanterns, still completely fixed on him. “Shall we go watch that horror movie?” Jake asked. “Uuuh, yeah, sure, sounds good…” said Fred, distracted. He pulled his eyes away from Jake long enough to check his watch, and visibly gulped when he did. To be continued over Hallowe'en...
  10. I dusted off an old, partially written story (I have many of them) and added a second chapter (and a few more). Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should continue. The Storm Chapter 1 The storm was coming. Even though the forecasts and long range models still drew diverging pathways on the maps, and the meteorologists still spoke in percentages and probabilities, I could tell this storm was headed straight toward me. I also knew that where I lived and the beach where I loved to surf was going to take a full force hit. The outcome had already been determined, and only I knew with one hundred percent certainty what that outcome was going to be. Although the tropical depression was still days away from becoming a full fledge hurricane, and although it was at least a week away in distance, I could already feel it in the water, and I could feel it coursing through my body. Strength was building – both the storm’s intensity and my own. Last night’s invigorating midnight swim and dreams that followed as well as the more than usual abundance of the flesh in my morning hard-on were proof enough to me. Fuck! It felt good,… and it was big… bigger than before. The flesh was hard as any steel, and now it more than filled my hand. To boot, to the rhythm of my pleasure, my nutsack slapped against my thighs with more force than I recalled. My balls were fuller, bigger. I raised my fist and flexed my biceps as I continued jacking with my other hand. The muscle mounded up round and large and full. It wasn’t huge yet, but it was bigger than before, and large enough to make me gasp in self-appreciation. Fuuuck! I felt a tingling in my cock and in my balls. Power. I felt the power, and suddenly the strength was more than I could stand. I thrust my left hand to the base of my erection and stroked the nob and remaining seven inches with my right, abandoning my flex to coax the storm within me. My hard-on surged within my hand, and I could feel the tension building. Waves of pleasure caressed my ass and balls and perineum. It became too much, and I arched my back and felt my glutes and hamstrings cramp with pleasure. In anticipation, my entire body flexed, and I felt my muscles growing. The wave of tension built within me, and I inhaled and held a breath so large that I thought it might explode my chest, but my ribcage held together. Then I felt the second phase. The wave was cresting, and I knew the thrill was coming. I felt my sphincter spasm and my balls draw up as semen filled the reservoirs within my prostate. I shut my eyes shut so tight that I couldn’t pry them open, but I didn’t need to see in order to experience the vision in my mind. My body was expanding, just a bit for now, but more was coming. This moment before I came was all potential, and despite how much I loved the anticipation thrill, I knew the best was yet to come, and then it happened. My cock expanded in my hands as the wave of pleasure crashed upon me. My body shook, and I roared with pleasure as the motherload of all ejaculations vaulted ropes of white, hot cum from deep within my pelvis up my shaft and through the air in all directions. I lost my sense of being as I tumbled through the abyss of bliss. I smelled the ocean in the air and tasted its salty essence on my lips. It splashed across my face and chest and pooled between the ridges of my belly. The intensity was mind-blowing, and my orgasm lasted longer than expected, but in the end, the power of the wave dispersed and was replaced by a tranquil relaxation that deposited me breathless and tangled in my sheets. Exhausted, I relaxed completely on my bed and felt the force of gravity against my increased mass, the mattress pushing harder against my back and glutes and limbs, the heft of my cock and balls weighing more substantially upon my thighs. I could feel the force and power. I was bigger,… and I was stronger,… and I was going to grow again. The coming storm was my assurance, and it was going to be more powerful and destructive than anyone yet knew. Chapter 2 The vibration of my phone against the nightstand was enough to rouse me from my slumber. It was a text from Billy: Dawn Patrol That was it. Nothing else -- but nothing else was needed. The surf was rising, and “dawn patrol” meant that although the sun had not yet crested the horizon, Billy was headed for the water. Sand was probably already pushing up between his toes, board leashed to his left ankle, eyes fixed on the horizon, sensing, anticipating. I rolled on my side and looked out the window of my beachfront shack which was perched on stilts, just high enough to see the sandy beach beyond the dunes. A lone surfer’s silhouette against the sherbet dawn jogged across the sand, board held high. It was Billy. He wanted to catch a few good rides before the break filled with every Benny, Barney and Kook who would never be good enough to deserve the kind of break that was right out my window. Billy was a disciple of the sea. He lived for the ocean and the waves, and both of them were calling. I looked to the water beyond his silhouette, and my heart pumped. With the coming storm, the swell was gaining size and strength, and the curls were peeling in perfect, long, slow barrels with nothing but glassy water in-between. It was a surfer’s wet dream, and at least for now it was mine and Billy’s, ours alone. The ocean beckoned, and we were obligated to respond. I rolled out of bed and stepped into my favorite board shorts. As I pulled them up my muscled thighs, I couldn’t help but notice that they were tighter. My quads and hamstrings now strained against the cloth, making it hard to hoist them into place. I worked the fabric up and over the thickness of my glutes and had to strain to pull the waist up high enough to settle into place along the narrow of my lower back. I relaxed and exhaled loudly thinking that I had achieved my goal. But then I realized that when it came time to seal the deal, there was just no room left for my amped up bait and tackle. While the storm was gaining size and strength, so too was I. I could feel the power building, manifesting itself in me as strength and size. I felt the need to exert myself, to dominate - to lift something or crush something or fuck something, but there was nothing in my shack to foot the bill. I picked up the dumbbells by my bed, but they were only 35 pounders - inadequately light; so I did next what came most naturally to me. I flexed. I raised my arms into a double biceps pose, and I flexed hard, squeezing every muscle in my body with all my might, concentrating all my energy into the flex and luxuriating in the erotic pain and pleasure of my muscles cramping as they struggled one against the other. Feeling the tightness of the boardshorts against my by glutes and thighs, I sent more effort below my waist, flexing even harder, willing my legs and ass to grow. The fabric tightened, at first snuggly caressing every curve and hollow and then constricting with discomfort. I took a breath and changed my pose to a crushing most muscular pose, and I flexed harder than I had flexed in my entire life. My body shook with effort, and the glow of perspiration turned into beads of sweat that converged into rivulets of moisture that began to flow into the valleys between my bulging muscles. I crunched down even harder, stomping my foot against the floor, concentrating my efforts in my lower body and waiting for the moment when my trunks would split. But no matter how hard I flexed and twisted, I couldn’t cause the cloth to rip. It enraged me, and in one final blinding effort, I flexed with all my might, and I felt the fabric give. I had destroyed my boardshorts, and, I felt like I had won. I knew right then that from now on I would always win. I was Samson, Hercules and Poseidon all rolled up into one, and I would never be defeated. I relaxed my flex and surveyed the situation. The board shorts were ripped in no less than seven places. To say that they had merely ripped was to understate the situation. They had exploded! To cause such damage, I must have had a substantial growth spurt all at once. I caught my breath and admired the increased mass of muscle in my thighs, and then I noticed that my hands were also larger and that my forearms were twitching, muscular and swollen. I clenched my fists and rolled my wrists, marveling as the muscle bellies bulged. I then relaxed and I rolled my fingers, delighting as the individual muscles danced and flexed in a ballet upon my forearm. My vision traveled north, and when it reached my upper arms, I was unprepared for the effect the bulging muscle would have upon my loins. I bent my elbow slowly, and the unflexed biceps bunched and rounded as the triceps lengthened fully. My dick responded harder than it had ever been. It throbbed as I cast my eyes upon the mirror. In my ripped board shorts, my newly enlarged, pumped body bulging with strength and power and glistening with sweat, I looked like some amped up comic book hero – lean, heavily muscled and strong. I crossed my wrists at the level of my waist, and my thickened pecs flexed and thickened in striated glory. Then my arms began the slow, erotic, upward arc that I knew would end in a stunning double biceps pose, the likes of which I’d never seen. Something flipped a switch in me. My mind was focused, and a flurry of image fantasies flashed before my mind’s eye. Samson, Heracles, Poseidon. Muscle, Size, Power. That was all I wanted, and I could feel it all amassing in my body as I flexed. My vision cleared, and a gazed upon my reflection in the mirror. No longer a Marvel hero. I was a god! Big and strong and proud and proud. My hard-on looked enormous, and my ball sack bulged with its twin egg-sized cargo. The seed of deities flowed withing me, and finally it was more than I could handle. I stared at my reflection, the embodiment of maleness, strength and power, and I increased the effort of my flex and thrusted my pelvis forward. The dam was breaking. I could feel the anticipatory tingle around my ass and perineum and then the near panic as my ejaculatory reservoirs filled with semen. Finally, I was overcome with the erotic hammer of ejaculation and white, hot ropes for cum arced across the room, painting the mirror and my reflection with liquid adulation. Fuck! It had never felt so good, and with the pleasure came a cramping in my muscles that I knew would make me grow again. Intoxication of the pleasure overwhelmed me, crippling my mind and body. My flex began to fail, and I dropped one arm and wrapped my hand around my hardon and felt another bolt of pleasure. Before the first orgasm had fully ended, I stroked twice, and came again in spasms, more violent than before. When it ended, I was spent, and the drive to flex and fuck and cum subsided, if only for a while. For a moment, I was satiated, weak and breathless. I crumpled to the bed beside me and milked a few last few drops of glistening cum from my softening erection. I tasted the elixir, and its salty essence reminded of the ocean and how it called me. I was exhausted, but I knew the water would revive me. I needed the ocean, waves and water. I craved the power of the storm.
  11. Something new for all you gorgeous people to read! This one's shaping up to be pretty schmoopy, fyi. It was spawned by a couple of really different songs getting thrown together while doing Cardio. I'm linking them and a visual aid for anyone who likes to see the inspiration side of things before they start reading. Also, another thank you is owed to Dredlifter for helping me iron out some numbers. First Song - Falling Slowly https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQvwXbvs5GY Second Song - Confident https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwLRQn61oUY And the T-Shirt https://www.teeturtle.com/products/gym-unicorn?variant=1540111073289 Enjoy. FORTUNE FAVOURS... Cas watched TJ warily in the gym mirror. The asshole behemoth had been eyeing him and Karen since they arrived. He had his usual band of cronies working out with him but today there was a new face added to the mix. TJ kept leaning down, way down to speak in his ear like he was giving some sort of direction. New Guy finally looked over and made eye contact in the mirror. Cas shivered and immediately dropped his gaze to the floor – the guy was fucking perfect! He snuck a look back up in the mirror to see New Guy nodding slowly to TJ before he started to swagger across the gym. “Incoming, Karen....” She pushed her blue-black hair out of her eyes and glanced over her shoulder before pushing out a final rep on the leg press. “Well fuck. How did he even figure out what time we'd be here?” Normally TJ followed a pretty strict schedule. With a little unofficial help from the staff, Cas and Karen had been able to schedule their own workouts for times when he wouldn't be there at all. Today TJ had thrown them for a loop – they came in well after he would have normally departed but he was still here with his counsel of sycophants scurrying about his massive frame. Cas watched the twink's approach. Well, that probably wasn't fair – New Guy was pretty damn built, more like a twunk, maybe. Ash blonde hair was playfully mussed at the front, a tuft of it standing straight up. Grey eyes stared out below fuller brows that arched up to prevent him from having a permanent cro-magnan scowl. He was a little scruffy but Cas could still see the square definition of his jawline before it tapered to the chin. He had a slightly upturned nose that lent his symmetrical face the slightest hint of a feline quality. He was achingly handsome and Cas felt a tingle of desire twinge through his body. It was like TJ had gone out of his way to find someone who would be as attractive to Cas's tastes as possible. New Guy was almost to them. "Fuck, he's seriously built...." Definitely thicker than a twunk. It was his height that made him seem smaller than he was. Cas estimated himself to have about a six-inch advantage. Karen was on her feet now, also appraising his approach. “Shit, Cas. This one's very easy on the eyes. And damn he fills out that racer tank in the best way. If he hasn't absorbed too much of TJ's douchebagliness, maybe he can be saved? How much do you want to bet that he mentions your shirt?” Karen looked over at Cas and grinned mischievously. The sight was decidedly unnerving. There was something about a woman who looked like she could bench press Buick smiling wickedly that could rattle anyone. “But you told me you love this shirt?” Cas started defensively. “That shirt is fucking amazing. Doesn't mean he isn't going to mention it. Five bucks?” “It's a lousy bet and we both know it. How 'bout we just give you the win and I'll bring you cookies next time I make some?” "Done. Let me know if you need me?" And with that, she moved off to more leg work nearby, earphones off and listening. “I'm sure I'll be fi-” “Hey.” Damn, Cas had turned to keep talking to Karen and lost track of how close New Guy was. Of course his voice would be misleadingly deep for his size. It was a low, rich tenor, just a smidgen above a bass. Cas felt his balls draw up tight in response to the vibration. His bottom lip hinged open and he stared slack-jawed at the person before him. Karen was not wrong – his chest and back completely stretched out his tank top. Well developed delts and traps topped off the look with the barest tease of his serrati disappearing into the shirt down each side. The dense spread of blond hair across his pecs was trimmed but not shaved. Same thing under the arms, but, as Cas's gaze involuntarily lowered, not the legs. Interesting.... “Uh, Hello?” New guy tried his greeting again, this time paired with a confident smirk in response to Cas's less-than-subtle ogling. “Sorry, sorry – Hi?” Cas couldn't stop himself from blushing scarlet. “I just came over here to say that I, um, really like your shirt...?” Karen snorted in the background. “That sounded like a question. You sure that's why you're over here?” Cas gave a pointed stare at TJ across the gym. New Guy turned his head to follow the look. TJ just stood there, watching patiently with a malicious stare – his blue eyes chips of ice from across the room. Cas shivered at the hate in the look. New Guy noticed the shiver as he turned back. “Just... just ignore him.” “It's... complicated.” “I'm sure it is. Any more complicated than why you decided to wear a shirt that has a buff, dead-lifting unicorn with a rainbow, mohawk mane to a gym in a small, conservative city?” New Guy took another step closer so they were barely 6 inches apart. “There is nothing wrong with my shirt. It's a dead-lifting unicorn, where the hell else am I supposed to wear it?” Cas hissed out through his teeth and tiptoed closer trying to intimidate New Guy. New Guy didn't rise to the bait. He just widened his stance, rolled his broad shoulders back distractingly and kept eye-contact with Cas. “I didn't say there was. It's ballsy. I like it.” “Oh... um...” Cas deflated immediately and shuffled backward. This was...unexpected. “Hey, you don't have to- Fuck this posturing bullshit. I'm Blake.” New guy held out his hand at what he hoped was a non-offensive distance. Cas reached out and shook it, grateful for the offer. “Cas.” For a shorter guy, Blake's hand dwarfed his in thickness. Sure, Cas's hand was a bit longer, but the strength in the breadth of Blake's palm could easily crush his if he wanted. Blake eyed the guy shaking his hand quickly. He had looked so confident laughing and joking with that woman from across the gym. He was taller than he looked – lean and athletic upper torso tapering to a lean waist. Blake could see the obvious curve of his ass through the pants but couldn't tell much else about his legs. High cheekbones highlighted his oval-shaped face capped with playfully tousled toffee-brown hair. His eyes were a vibrant green set evenly beneath what had to be shaped brows. A narrow, refined nose split the face evenly with full lips below that would be perfect for giving... a lot. Blake turned away to surreptitiously adjust himself a bit as he halted his thoughts before he got fully hard in his workout shorts. “Just Cas? Or is it short for something else?” “You sure ask a lot of questions, Blake?” “How else am I supposed to get to know you?” Why was this guy so defensive? “What did TJ send you over here to do?” “Well...um....” Blake knew this was a bad idea. Why did he agree to this? Cas saw the look of confusion flit across Blake's face. “Caspian. Cas is short for Caspian.” The revelation emboldened Blake. “He wanted me to challenge you to some sort of lift competition? I just kinda smiled and nodded and hoped I'd be able to work out what he really wanted once I got over here and started talking to you. He gave me this free workout drink to do it. I'm supposed to get the other part to after I, um, blow you away and win. He's kind of a creepy asshole, actually. He kept going on about how he was finally going to be the one to teach you something? I figured I didn't have a lot to lose – I don't really know anyone at this gym yet. It's a great ice-breaker, in here anyway, showing off a bit without being an ass and maybe find a work out partner. Besides, it's not like you'd be able to lift as heavy as I can, right?” Blake finished with what he hoped was a cocky yet endearing grin. “I'm sorry, what was that last part?” Cas had a plan forming in his mind. “TJ kinda led me to believe you'd be, well, smaller than me.” Cas quirked an eyebrow at that. “And even though you're not exactly small, there's no way you could ever lift as much as these guns!” Blake brought his arms up and flexed, hard balls of muscle popping up and filling the space above his arms. They were impressive on his frame – probably 15 inches cold. “Did he say what you were supposed to win?” “Something about you wearing the little blue devil and proving it to me and to him at the gym. Does that make any sense to you?” “He told you to ask for that?! Are you sure?” “Pretty sure. He made me repeat it before I got this drink.” Blake started to lift it up to his mouth to take a swig but Cas reached out and touched his elbow lightly, leaning in to whisper. “Don't drink it, Blake. Keep raising it to your mouth and pretend to drink but whatever you do, don't actually put it in you. And don't let TJ know that you aren't slugging it back. TJ has a number of...questionable hobbies. One of them is amateur...biochemistry, you might say.” Cas stepped back and looked around for Karen. They were probably going to need help for what he had in mind. "I'm sorry? Are you saying that this is some kind of...experiment for him?" Blake stared at the unnaturally scarlet liquid in his shaker cup. “Do you really know TJ outside of the gym, Blake?” “Uh, no. And I only joined like a week-and-a-half ago. I was using the gym on the college campus before I started my practical placement. What's the deal with you two? You looked really on edge earlier when you first looked over at him and now you're acting weird again....” “I just need to find my friend, the woman I was with before. I'll be right back, okay?” “Uh yeah? I'll just wait here?” “Perfect.” Cas practically bolted toward the cardio machines. After legs, Karen usually cooled down on a treadmill. He found her on her favourite one and led her back to Blake, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Hey Kid, hear you're going to challenge Caspian to some lifts?” Karen smirked as she drawled out Cas's full name. “Um, that's right, Ma'am?” Karen raised an eyebrow at getting Ma'am-ed. “Er, Miss? Do you... prefer Ms. maybe?” Karen burst out laughing as Blake floundered. “What's the matter, Kid? Haven't you ever seen a woman who lifts?” “Er, nooo...” Blake raised his shaker cup and almost forgot to only pretend to take a drink. “It's Karen, Kid. And don't really drink that shit – it's toxic as hell if it's from TJ.” She took a swig of water. "So here's the deal, Karen," Cas started. "TJ asked Blake here to challenge me, defeat me handily, and as his prize, I was to wear the little blue devil to the gym in order to prove it to Blake and TJ." Karen choked on her water. “He wants that?! Oh Kid, what the hell did you do to piss TJ off?” “My. Name. Isn't. Kid.... It's Blake. And what the hell is this blue devil thing? Why is it so important?” Cas leaned in conspiratorially and brought up a picture on his phone. Blake sputtered and his ears flushed bright pink. “He wants me to make you wear an ass plug?! Wait, does that thing actually fit in your ass?” Several people looked over at the trio strangely. “Say it a bit louder, Blake,” Caspian whispered. “I think there's a deaf woman in the tanning room who didn't hear you.” He stepped back and looked over Karen and Blake before continuing. “So, if you win, that's what you're going to get from me. I can guarantee TJ will bring his posse in on it and you probably won't be getting out of here without having your own forced blue devil experience.” “TJ is so sick. Sick and wrong. Why can't I just go over there and call him out? You know the management has just been looking for a reason....” Karen was livid. “Guys, I just met you. This is a little...heavy. Is he really going to get away with this?” Blake was looking green. “Hell no. You're not going to win.” “What!?” “You're not going to win....” “How the fuck are you going to do that!? I mean, you're in great shape and all, but I'm pretty sure the advantage is mine.” Blake puffed up. He wanted to help Cas out but he didn't want to be shown up in public by someone so...slim.... “Kid – shit, sorry - Blake, you don't know what you're in for.” Karen caught on to where Cas was going with his plan after hearing Blake's self-aggrandizing. “Did TJ tell you what he wanted you to beat me at?” Cas grinned widely down at Blake. “He...no, he didn't....” “That just convinces me he wanted to get back at you for something. Here's the wager, if you win, TJ ravages our asses against our will. If I win, you have to attend a HIIT class with me tomorrow morning and let me take you to brunch. Deal?” “I'm sorry, are you saying that if I win we throw ourselves at TJ's mercy but if you win, I'm the one who gets free food?” “And you have to attend the class.” “Pffft, it's a fitness class. I'll be fine.” “Do we have a deal?” “Fine, whatever. We have a deal.” “Karen. You get to be our neutral witness. Not even TJ will argue with you.” “Oh Blake, you're in for a ride today.... You doing what I think you're doing, Cas?” “Yup. Blake, you're challenging me to standing calf raises. Working set of 8.” “What?!” “You look like you don't skip leg day so it shouldn't be a complete blow out for you.” “Calf raises?” Blake was still stupefied as Cas led him over to the machine. “C'mon Blake. You should warm up.” Cas started to adjust the pads for Blake's height and then stopped himself. That was going to involve way more physical contact than someone like Blake would probably want from him. “You should, um adjust the machine for yourself....” “Are we seriously doing standing calf-raises?! Who the fuck tests themselves with calf-raises?” A couple of machines over, one of TJ's lackeys overheard the comment and started snickering. Blake blushed deeply, a tight coil of anger gathered in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck them, let's do this. I hope you know what you're doing, Caspian.” He lowered the shoulder pads and popped the pin down to 250 lbs and blew through 8 quick reps. "Nice, Blake! Did you even feel that? And starting at 250 will help make sure TJ gets the drawn-out show he thought he wanted. Just let me get the pads up." Cas slid into the machine and smoothly cranked out a warm-up set. Blake watched him lower the pin to 300. That wasn't too much below what Blake used as a working set. "All ready for you. Pin should be set too." Blake stepped in and started to push up, but something felt off. The shoulder pads weren't sitting where they should. They were too high. He shot Cas a glare, who stood there making the least convincing innocent face in the history of pranks. “Nice, Caspian. 'Cause that hasn't been done to me since high school. How tall are you anyway – you've got to be at least 6 feet if you need to raise it that much more than my 5 feet, 6.5 inches." Blake lowered the pads a bit more. Cas looked from him to Karen, who looked back at Blake and slowly shook her head. “Blake, who told you that you're – aw Fuck - it was TJ wasn't it?” Cas was fuming – this was a new low. “Uh, yeah. Said his drink could make me at least an inch taller in a week, just like it bumped him up to 6 feet, 5 inches....” “I'm not 6 feet tall. I might squeak by at 5 feet, 11 inches. Karen's 5 feet, 4 inches and you don't have almost three inches on her....” Blake looked over at Karen. His eyes were above hers by about an inch, but if she was only 5' 4”.... He tried to stop the tears of anger from welling up in his eyes. Simultaneously, both Cas and Karen reached out to touch his shoulders but he shrugged them off and stepped into the machine. “I'm going to fucking kill him. He is such an asshole!” Karen started to march off but Cas grabbed her shoulder. “Just wait. He'll get his without you having to go murder anyone. Blake, you good?” "Yup. Apparently, I'm still... 5 feet fucking 5 inches and...just fucking... fine...." He started slowly lifting himself up and down. “Hey, tell me about your favourite breakfast food? Pancakes? No – it has to be waffles. You totally look like you're into waffles.” Cas approached the machine taking care not to make physical contact with Blake. Blake finished his set without answering and just stared at the machine. “I bet someone as built as you are - like a stacked tank - can pack away tonnes of food, right?” When in doubt, appeal to the straight man's sense of masculinity. It managed to get a small smile out of Blake, but was he straight? “You have no idea, Cas. I'm going to cost you so much money with breakfast tomorrow. I'm going to eat so much – you're going to help me get even more massive.” Blake's small smile widened as he described the vast quantities of food he would consume. “You're up.” “You okay if I up the ante to speed this along? I think it may have been a bad idea to try and give TJ a show.” “Absolutely. He deserves nothing from us. I'm a little lost about why you decided to go along with this whole thing that he set up anyway. You clearly don't like him and I've put together that he probably doesn't like you so much either. Which is weird, because every time I met up with him, he was always talking about you.” “It's complicated.” “Yeah, you said that earlier....” Blake trailed off mid-sentence, obviously trying to cue Cas to jump in at any time. "Have you ever had someone do things to you over and over and over that you couldn't stop because they were just too strong, too big, too powerful, too whatever for you to deal with? And eventually, you resign yourself to just go along with certain things to avoid making it worse on yourself? To avoid the struggle, because the struggle always ends up with you losing and making things worse for yourself?” “I can't say that I've ever really experienced it....” Blake started to look distinctly uncomfortable with where Cas might be going. “But you can follow the train of thought?” “A bit, I guess. Kinda sounds a little... rough, actually.” “Yeah...you could say that....I-” Cas stopped himself and sighed. This wasn't the time or place; he could not have this conversation here. “...Cas...?” Karen's hand reached out and made the faintest contact with his elbow. Blake watched them look at each other silently. Without exchanging a single word, he saw the tension bleed out of Caspian with that single, gossamer touch from his friend. Hearing Cas speak, seeing him fight to get the words out.... Blake wasn't stupid. He knew where the train of thought led. It woke something inside him, not quite a righteous anger, but a desire to make things different, to show Cas that he was stronger than he gave himself credit for. “Let's just say it's like that, okay? I don't want to give TJ any reason to do anything and so I'm going along with this little charade of his. Besides, if I hadn't, you and I might not have really met, right?” Cas tried to lighten the mood. This was way too serious. “Well if you put it that way, I am pretty amazing....” Blake couldn't resist bringing his arms up behind his head and flexing them while he flared out his shoulders and upper back. The look of raw, naked awe and desire Cas gave him fuelled whatever was awakening within him. He wanted so much more of that look. He wanted so much more than five paltry minutes of feigned intimacy with this person. Caspian discerned a change in Blake's expression, a glint of something he couldn't identify. Shaking off his own emotions he broke the gaze and looked back at the machine. "Brilliant then. Let's finish this." Cas lowered the pin to 350 and adjusted the pads, taking special care to actually mark what height Blake needed. He cranked out the set without breaking a sweat. Blake gaped at how easy Cas did the warm-up set. “You're still warming up at 350?” It was Cas's turn to blush a bit as he lowered the pads. “....yeah.... Um, maybe you should just go for your max...?” Blake gulped and stepped into the machine. He liked leg day... mostly. He didn't skip it at least. How could this ...twig, well relative to him anyway, outperform him on any lift? He dropped the pin to 400 and took a deep breath. It was one plate more than he had worked with last week – he could do this! He made it to three before he started to struggle. Four and five burned but were workable. Six... six was rough. Seven...he felt the weight move up the slightest bit before he had to lower it. “Nice job, Ki-Blake. I'll give you your seven.” Karen clapped him on the back. She was being generous and he knew it. “Fuck. TJ's starting to make his way over. I'll try to make this quick, but it might get ugly, Blake.” Cas raised the pads and did four quick lifts and then stopped and lowered the pin to 500 even. Blake's jaw fell open as he watched Cas work through his complete set. At least this time it looked like he had to work for it a little. “Can he actually max the machine?” Blake's gaze didn't leave Cas's curvaceous ass methodically rising up and down in steady, controlled motion. “Probably.” Karen crossed her arms and widened her stance in preparation for TJ's arrival with his henchmen. “He's stopping at 500 so I can save some face, isn't he?” “Yuuup. Cas is usually a pretty good kid.” “Finally, he gets Kidded.” Karen snorted. “Kid, everyone's 'kid' to me. Except TJ and his crew – they're just assholes.” “Is he... How...old-” Blake leaned in close to ask but Karen saved him from having to say it. “25. But you didn't hear it from me.” She spoke low enough for only Blake to hear before calling out as Cas finished his set, “And that's a set of 8 at 500 for Caspian. You want to try it, Blake?” “Hell no. I, uh, have to survive a HIIT class tomorrow now and find something clean to wear for breakfast....” Cas stepped out of the machine just as TJ finished his lumbering approach. Blake watched Cas's body tense. He raised himself up onto the balls of his feet as if he were expecting to run or kick. He clenched his hands tight but not into fists. Blake could see Cas's fingernails digging into his palms. Was he seriously going to make himself bleed? Could he be that angry? And then Cas shot a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Blake and Karen were with him. His eyes were wide with fear, pupils dilated in preparation of a flight response. Despite his anxiety, he still managed to turn back to the object of his terror and stand his ground as TJ sneered down at him. Blake cursed under his breath and started toward Caspian. Karen quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him from rushing in before Cas had a chance to stand up for himself. “Queer.” The voice sounded reedy, petulant. A sharp contrast to the hulking exterior. Dark hair and a solid brow line scowled over emotionless blue eyes. A grim slash of a mouth barely opened when he talked. He could someday, possibly even be handsome if he bothered taking care of himself or took the time to smile occasionally. “TJ.” Cas returned icily. “Anything I can help you with?” “Just coming over to see how your little competition went. Calf-raises huh? Can't say I'm really surprised that someone as pitiful as you would pick something like that, Cassie.” He rested a hand on the machine and leaned down into Cas, trying his best to force him into giving ground. Blake was having none of it. He broke from Karen and deftly interposed himself between Cas and TJ's looming form. Sure, Cas was tall enough that TJ still had a clear shot at his face, but if he tried it, he'd have to leave his abdomen open to whatever Blake wanted to dish out. Blake shoved his shaker cup up at TJ's chest. Hard. The unexpected movement caught TJ off guard and he stumbled back a step. Blake felt Cas slowly let out the breath he had been holding. “It went pretty well, all things considered, big fella.” Blake kept his voice steady, neutral. “I did get my ass handed to me though, so there won't be any blue devil in your immediate future. I guess you'll have to have one of your 'friends' help you out with that instead.” TJ's eyes narrowed. "Oh, and I won't need that drink you offered me after all. Looks like I didn't have the stomach for the first bit. How about you keep my shaker cup, eh? It's the least I could do for all the assistance you gave me showing me around this week and helping me figure out who to avoid.” “Careful, shortstack. Pretty sure you're making a mistake right now.” “Nah. No mistake. But thanks. So Much. For coming over. To say goodbye.” Blake laid it on thick at the end. A moment of tense silence settled between them before TJ finally spoke. “That's... cool.... We were just about to head out anyway. Take care, ladies.” His inflection ensured not a single person felt anything was 'cool.' TJ pushed against Blake as he made his way past the trio and toward the door. The couple of hangers-on scampered after him looking more like animated caricatures than actual people. Just as he reached the corner Cas called out. “Blake was telling me about your problem with accurately measuring your height, TJ. If you ever need someone to help you buy shoes with even thicker soles than those ones so you can actually hit 6'4,” give me a call. I'd love to help you deal with your insecurity.” TJ stopped for a moment but didn't turn around. His two underlings failed to notice and collided with his broad back. Muttering apologies to TJ, they all awkwardly started toward the exit again. "Well, you two little shits were in fine form. Did you feed each other fistfuls of sass pills while you were flirting earlier?" Karen barely managed to keep a straight face. Blake shook himself out while Cas tried to control his breathing. "Thanks, guys. And Blake, you didn't have to do that, stepping in front of me. It was a stupidly brave, kind gesture and really appreciated but you could have gotten yourself killed or worse what if he had actu-" “Hey.” Blake raised a hand up to Cas's shoulder to snap him out of his rant. “If I didn't want to be there, I wouldn't have put myself there. I'll do it any time and every time....” He looked as if he was going to say something else but instead suddenly blurted,” I, um, have to get out of here. Now. To go do some laundry so I have something that doesn't make me look like a hobo for tomorrow. What time's the class?” "7:30 am. Lasts about 45 minutes. Don't wear loose boxers. See you then?" “Without a doubt.” Blake gave them one final bi flex before making his way toward the men's locker room with an overhead wave. Karen and Cas watched him leave in silence. “You manage to figure out if he likes you yet?” Karen crossed her arms again. “I had, like, five minutes. Five. What do think I said, Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” “From you? Yeah.” “Oh my god. I hate you so much right now.” “Nah you don't. He know you're teaching the class tomorrow?” “Not a chance.” “Smooth. Sure that'll be fun. Maybe I'll show up to see his face.” “No you won't – you won't even be out of bed until after 9:00 am.” “Nooope.” Karen grinned and then looked at Cas expectantly. “Well?” "Well, what?" All Cas could think about was how the hell he was going to patch together a workout when all he could think about was Blake's smile and his biceps and the perfect pattern of shorn hair on his mammoth chest.... “Aren't you going to follow him?” “Like, right now?” “Yes, now! Go.” With a playful shove from Karen, Cas tried to keep from tripping over his own feet as he hurried toward the locker room.
  12. This is my first story. It's going to have bite sized chapters and very regular updates (most likely daily). This is a m/m superhero romance. The first two chapters are mostly set up, but after that every chapter has plenty of sexy muscle and feats of strength, so please stick with it! Chapter 1 It began as all the best love stories do: with terrorism. The 24th of March 2013 is much like any other day. Hugo Chavez recently died, triggering what would go on to become an economic crisis in Venezuela, the UN security council has just slammed North Korea with harsh new sanctions, Justin Timberlake is topping the charts with ‘Mirrors’, protestors are waving signs outside Parliament, protesting about something, pigeons are shitting, rain is pouring, and I'm on my way to work. The newly opened Shard is difficult to miss. It towers over London’s skyline, jutting into the clouds like the lair of a comic book villain. I make my way inside, flashing my ID as I go. ‘Jake Langley’, it says in large capital letters, along with an employee number and my date of birth. I only show it as a courtesy - the security guards have all memorised my face by now. I sometimes wonder what they think of me. Am I ‘that cute, fresh faced little pastry chef with the dimples’ or do they just see me as a child straight out of college, coasting by on boyish looks, with no clue what he’s doing? I’d like to think it was the former. I’d like to. But I don’t. I wish I was the kind of guy who had the guts to ask. The kind who knows he's good enough, who knows he's not going to be rejected or shut down. But even if I wasn't gay, I will never be that kind of guy. It's not in my nature. I'm not assertive or domineering. I smile, wave, and make pastry. That's my nature. I slip by in this hyper masculine world by being too small for anyone to see as a threat. And for the most part, it works. The kitchens still shine like the day they were installed, which wasn't that long ago. Most kitchens are crowded, starkly lit places where you can barely move an inch without bumping into someone or knocking something over, but not this one. Natural light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, treating us to a view of London that millions of people would kill for. But I'm not here for the views. Okay, maybe a little bit. But mostly, I'm here to do my job. I find my little corner and start preparing for the day’s guests. It's a Sunday, so we're expecting a lot of traffic. There isn’t an overpaid banker in London who doesn’t salivate over the idea of lunch at the Shard. Russian oligarchs, Saudi oil barons, British royalty, Colombian drug lords - we serve them all. I don’t care who they are or what they do. It's none of my business. It sounds like a simple, boring job - making pastry. You’d be surprised at how much there is to it. There’s a reason they have pastry chefs – this is a difficult thing to get right. It's always come easily to me. I find something calming about rolling out a sheet of puff, spreading on the butter, folding it over, and rolling it out again. There's a rhythm to it. My movements soon become mechanical and I can feel myself floating away into a distant world where I'm someone interesting, somewhere interesting, doing something interesting. The kitchen hums around me as the first orders come in. Pans clink, hobs fizzle, water gurgles as it boils. I can barely hear the orders being barked over it all. But I'm not really paying attention. Boom. I can feel a wave of pressure pass through my feet, up to my head, and down again. Everything is shaking; the walls, the floor, the windows. Pots rattle above my head on their hooks. I turn to see the kitchen staff frozen, eyeing one another with pointed glares. I don't think I've ever seen this room so quiet. “What was that?” I hear one of them whisper, his voice carrying clear across the room. No one answers. Was it an earthquake? It couldn’t be. Earthquakes aren’t instantaneous, they're gradual. Then it comes again, much louder. BOOM. I don’t know if it's the ringing in my ears or the shaking beneath my feat, but I'm suddenly hunched over a table, flour covering my hands, gasping for breath. I don't know how long I spend there, trying to comprehend what's going on. It must be a minute or two, at least. My daze is broken as an alarm whirrs into life, high pitched and screaming. Red lights flash. All at once, the shock turns to chaos. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. They're coming faster now, from all over the building. I can feel them in my bones. While others run for the doors, I huddled under my table. What the hell is going on? My eyes drift to the windows, where black smoke is billowing up past our floor, carrying dust and paper. Fuck. I watched 9/11 unfold on live TV and I was here when they locked down London during the 7/7 attacks. It's impossible to ignore the reality of what's going on. This is a terrorist attack. I can see dark shapes floating past outside, just beyond the smoke. Choppers. News choppers. When I had dreamed of appearing on TV, I was thinking more along the lines of Deal or No Deal, not this. Anything but this. I'm now alone in the kitchen. I don't know when that happened. I presume everyone else has fled. My gaze flickers to the open door as I try to decide what to do. Maybe if I run now, I could get out before the building collapses. Or maybe the lower floors are experiencing the worst of it, and I'm best waiting up here while the blaze is brought under control. Is there anything here I could turn into a parachute? No, I scold myself. That’s pointless and stupid. I’d never break through those windows anyway. Turning on my phone, I check the BBC. The first result is a live video of the Shard, burning in a dozen places. The news anchors are speaking but I can’t hear a word of it. I watch the screen in horror as the fire begins to creep outward from the explosion sites. One of them is pretty close to this kitchen. Placing my hands on the ground, I feel warmth. There’s a rumbling sensation. Something is crackling not far from our door. As fast as I can, I slam it shut, backing away with a hiss as the handle burns my skin, leaving it red and blotchy. Now there’s smoke trickling in through the vents and the air is getting hazy. Pulling a wet cloth over my mouth, I run around the kitchen and turn on all the taps and block all the drains. They overflow one by one, spilling out onto the floor until there’s a pool of water an inch deep. This won’t save me, but it might slow the spread. It’s getting seriously hot in here. I clutch my burned hands around the wet cloth, which eases the pain, but nothing can stop the coughing fits. There’s soot clogging my lungs and in my eyes, causing them to water uncontrollably. The air is so thick now that I can barely see from one end of the room to the other. My only sign that the door has buckled is the red tongues of flame licking at the ceiling. At the same time, I’m hit by a wave of heat so overwhelming that my only option is to curl up on the floor and cover my face as I feel the skin of my back start to blister. Then something astonishing happens. Something so unusual that I wonder if I’m hallucinating. There's a silhouette visible through the smoke. A man. He's enormous, and seems completely unphased by the fire caressing every inch of his body. His eyes find me on the floor, and a look of relief flits across his face. I blink, and he’s suddenly leaning over me. How did he move so fast? I open my mouth to ask, but only a ragged cough comes out. Two huge arms gently scoop me up. I press my face into his chest to escape the heat. Somehow even in the middle of a burning skyscraper, his touch makes me feel safe. Protected. Isn’t that strange? I hear the sound of shattering glass, feel a rush of cold air on my neck. The arms wrap more tightly around me. The lurching in my stomach tells me we’re moving, and I try to look around, but one hand on the back of my head keeps me locked to his chest. As the adrenaline fades, my body starts to scream in pain. I’ve never felt such agony. It’s only a matter of time before blackness is creeping into my vision, clouding my mind. And then I’m gone.
  13. GenericExcuse

    Unexpected Delivery (Part 4)

    Hi, this is my first post here. I hope you enjoy. *Ding Dong* I got up from the couch and shuffled to the door; I'd been waiting for this new micro SD card for a few days now. It was late for some reason, but I didn't care. I excitedly grabbed the doorknob and twisted, pulling it open. I was already focusing my eyes downward to see where the package had been placed. Instead, however... "G'mornin', sir." A gruff voice startled me. There before me was the delivery man, holding my package at waist level. A few thoughts surfaced my mind: Usually the packages are left on the porch, not hand-delivered. That box is waaay too big for a micro SD card. And of course: Who the hell is this massive man?? My mouth gaped at his wide figure. His tan-colored uniform must have been custom made, and it still squeezed his body. The short sleeves were gaped even moreso than my mouth, stretching to encompass his mountainous arms. His chest, which could not be fully covered, pulled down the front of his shirt, casting a dark shadow over his midsection and exposing the lower half of his blocky abs and a fluff of treasure trail. This also revealed a forest of hair on his chest. Dare I say, this uniform was not very professional. His thick forearms also had ample hair. He bore a scruffy beard and an almost sheepish grin. I wanted to look down, but something caught my eye. Another darker shade of fabric covered by the shadow of his pecs. Sweat. Sweat from under his pecs was darkening the shirt. I felt my dick thump my shorts. I looked around; more patches of sweat were around his armpits and between his pecs as well. Thank goodness we have the Sun. "...you alright?" came the gruff voice again. I snapped out of my daze. "W-What? Oh, yeah, thanks." I nervously replied. There was no way he didn't see me staring, but I at least hoped he didn't mind. He looked concerned at my weird response. "I asked if I could use your bathroom. Been deliverin' packages all mornin' and haven't pissed since wakin' up." He took a hand off the box and scratched his thigh. Oh my, his thighs. They were impossibly meaty. The shorts might as well have been invisible, since they covered his legs like paint. Carved muscle bulged from his legs; all the signs of tree trunks were present, specifically redwood. My eyes wandered. Shit, the unecessarily big-ass package was blocking his package. "...llo? You good?" His deep voice once again brought me back to reality. I composed myself and stepped back behind the door to adjust my crotch. "Er...yes! Sure, come in." I guestured for him to come inside. He was just a hair shorter than the door frame, but he had to turn slightly to accommodate his width. He handed the package to me hastily and asked where the bathroom was. I set the box on the floor and led him farther inside my house to the bathroom. He palmed the doorknob with a large hand and quickly entered. I sighed; he would be leaving soon. I felt a little disappointed. He was without a doubt the hottest man I'd ever seen. Though, I suppose I should consider myself lucky he even stayed as long as he did. I lingered at the bathroom door momentarily. I heard him grunt softly. I almost knocked to ask if he was alright, but then I heard heavy splashing. It was loud, as if he had a hose or something. Surely that wasn't just his piss? It went on for a while. I stood for maybe a full 2 minutes, and he was still going. A few moments later, the sound trickled out. I heard him flush, wash his hands, and open the door. Startled, I acted as if I had just arrived. He eyed me suspiciously, but didn't say anything. It was awkwardly silent for a few seconds. "Thanks," he abruptly said. "Oh, yeah, you're welcome." "Were you... listenin'?" This caught me off guard. I felt my face heat up. "N-No! I just walked here!" "Uh-huh. Doesn't matter. People've told me they could hear me pissin' from farther than just outside the damn door." He crossed his thick arms. It was probably meant to be intimidating, but the sight of his big arms resting under his heavy pecs was rather arousing. I struggled to find the right words. Maybe it would be best to just admit it? The way he said that made it sound like it was a common occurrence. I mean, who wouldn't be curious? Besides, after he leaves I'd probably never see him again. "Well, y-yeah, I was curious about, um. Y'know..." I avoided looking at his crotch like the plague, instead I vaguely gestured to the bathroom. "How long I pissed? Already told you I haven't gone since wakin' up," he looked somewhat annoyed. "Yeah, sorry," I muttered. I realized how pervy I was being and became embarrassed. I led him back outside and he left after saying bye. I watched his meaty ass as he walked, massive round globes bouncing. I noticed his tight pants and how close they w-... Shit, I did it again. I shook my head and closed the front door. I bent down to pick up the package I received. "Man, this box is way too big..." I mumbled to myself.
  14. Ras3rGM

    Mr.steve & Bruce (part3)

    A longer story than usual, I hope you like it u.u Mr.Steve & Bruce My name is Steve, although I am often called Mr. Steve, I am 74 years old and live with my grandson Bruce, he is my whole life.... His disgusting father, someone I will never consider my son, abandoned him after killing his mother, he was imprisoned and sentenced to life imprisonment, since Bruce was 8 years old he was left in my care for lack of any other guardian, I raised him as my real son, he has always been kind, polite, and with good values, I always call him my baby hehe even though this year he turned 18, he was never very outgoing he was always the introverted and quiet type, I knew he was bis from 16.. and because of that he has always been treated badly, he has been beaten, I remember days when he arrived with bruises all over his body, he was bullied and it was getting worse, I tried to talk to the school but they did nothing, I even threatened to sue but the school protected those bastards just for their money. I decided to take Bruce out before something really serious happened, boys who think they can do whatever they want because their parents have money are very dangerous, but it wasn't enough they wanted to hurt him just for being him, one day Bruce went out and told me that a friend had invited him to see a movie premiere, that day Bruce didn't come back.... It was already 12:00 a.m. and Bruce was not answering his cell phone, when the house phone rang to give me the worst news.... Bruce was hospitalized, I almost had a heart attack and then I remembered those brats, I wanted to cry but I felt a rage I had never felt before but I was so helpless.... I felt pathetic After a while of being in the hospital with Bruce they ended up discharging him and he came home, although he was somewhat changed he was more scared than before, he didn't want to go outside after those guys beat him to the point of almost leaving him in coma it was totally understandable, I felt so much frustration, fortunately the lawsuit I made was supported by many witnesses in the trial and the 5 criminals who hurt my son were sentenced.... But still... I felt weak not being able to protect my Bruce, what if it happened again? I'm just a weak old man I didn't know what to do, until I heard a commercial. "You don't want to be weak anymore do you? Do you want the strength of Arnold or Ronnie Coleman? "Yes" I said as if I wanted an answer "well try our new product that will change you completely... for more information call -" I wrote down the number and called "Hello?" "Hello, who is this? "My name is Steve I saw your commercial on TV and I was interested." "Mr. Steve our commercial unfortunately is discontinued maybe they ran it by mistake, we no longer offer the product." I froze but something told me that I had to insist. "Please sir, I'm going through something difficult, I need something..... Whatever it is I'm 74 years old I'm not old enough to exercise anymore but I don't want to..... I need to be strong, the strongest if necessary.... Please." "Hmm our product is risky sir, that's why the commercial stopped going over I really can't offer it to you, but if you are so needy I can make an exception although you must understand that it is an experimental product and may carry risks to your health, understand?" "Of course, I would do anything." "Anything? All right, I'll give you an address let's find it there Mr. Steve." "Okay, I'll be there tomorrow" "Get ready to change your life completely Mr. Steve? He hung up" I was nervous, I don't know what I had just done, who I was calling or if what I was walking into was dangerous, but there was no turning back now. I went to the indicated address I felt bad for leaving Bruce alone, but something in me knew that from this day on everything would change, I don't know if for better or for worse... but it would change, I was at the place but I didn't see the guy, after waiting for 20 minutes I started to think that everything was a lie or something like that. "Pss, hey you're Steve aren't you?" I turned around and I saw a big guy, he wasn't huge or anything but definitely athletic. "Yeah" I said "Look Steve come this way" I followed him to a secluded spot, he started to pull something out of his jacket I thought it was a dagger and he was going to rob me I got scared, but he pulled out a bag of pills or something. "This right here Steve is the last pills we made before the product was discontinued due to some lawsuits and complaints, there are 20 of them." "Lawsuits? Why? "Side effects like body hair growth etc... it was never anything serious most just wanted to smear us and they got it." He gave me the bag "Because you said they were dangerous and all that?" "Well... I just wanted to scare you, I really don't usually agree to these things." "Hmm okay, I understand." "The whole thing with your grandson I hope it's okay...I'm not going to charge you for this I think you really need it." "Thank you.. by the way what is your name?" "Frank I'm sorry for not saying it sooner because I couldn't trust you without seeing you in person first." "That's okay, thank you very much..." "Let's go before we draw too much attention to ourselves, it was nice to meet you Steve." "Nice to meet you too Frank." After that I went back home and thought about making us a vacation to lift Bruce's spirits.. so we went camping in a nearby forest and rented a hut, change of environment would do Bruce good, he was still quiet even with me, although he was still as obedient and kind as ever, I felt again that helpless feeling.... We went to the camp and settled in, a couple of days passed in which we ate malvadiscos together and Bruce began to open up more. "Grandpa I... I'm sorry if I've been so distant lately it's just that..." "It's okay son... I may not be able to fully understand what you are going through but I know it has been very hard on you" "Thank you.. you always support me in everything, defend me and I .... I'm so pathetic" he started sobbing. "Come here son, please don't cry" I hugged him "you're not pathetic, you're my beautiful grandson, my baby and obviously I will always defend you" But I couldn't protect you I thought. "Go to sleep honey, I'll stay up a while longer" I stroked her hair. "Okay grandpa...see you tomorrow" "See you tomorrow, have a good rest" he deserves it after all. I saw the pills on the counter, I took the package out of the bag, I took out a big glass of beer and poured everything and poured water, I stayed a long time thinking what to do looking until the pills were dissolved, I had in my hands the possibility to change everything, that nobody would ever hurt Bruce again... I drank it... I drank it all without thinking until I finished, nothing happened, 20 minutes passed and there was still no change, I was still the same weak old man as always, I left the cabin frustrated, deceived, I had trusted Frank, I moved far enough away so as not to wake up Bruce even if he screamed with all my strength and it happened... Suddenly I felt a warmth envelop my body, out of my mouth came a grunt, I felt my body heat up and start to GROW?! it was growing, I felt my abs start to form under my shirt, my shoulders got wider, my chest with small pecs, it was working, my legs were growing too when suddenly I heard RIIIIIIIIIP my shirt ripped in the back, it had gotten so wide. And so followed my pants, my new pecs began to push the fabric until it ripped, for the first time I saw hair on my chest and abdomen, it was black despite my white hair and mustache, the same on my shoulders, back, forearms, armpit and pubic, it was thickening, my neck began to thicken my voice went down one, two, three octaves, I now had a bull neck, I had the constitution of a middleweight bodybuilder and I was still "Hmmm yeah.. bigger, I need to get bigger for Bruce, no one will ever hurt my precious boy again, or they'll deal with this old man." I flexed my arms by this point they were bigger than Bruce's head, my pecs started to push my nipples down, my own nipples were thickening and thickening, my thighs were like tree trunks and I was still growing. "Fuck... It feels amazing I don't want it to stop hmmmm yeah... I'm so big and strong now, Ronnie Coleman is going to be dwarfed next to this huge grandpa." I was still enjoying my Growing up until *RASHED* my shorts ripped monstering a huge cock hit my abs and it was as thick as Bruce's forearm, my arms were already twice the size of Bruce's torso, my legs must have almost tripled it by now, by this point I must have been bigger than any bodybuilder in history, my neck thickened again, now I had a dinosaur neck, the hair on my body thickened more, I felt my mustache grow thicker and thicker, my jaw was now strong and angular, it was more manly and I liked it, my hands and feet had also grown a lot, I could wrap part of Bruce's body with one of my paws, although now they were more bear paws, I could wrap part of Bruce's body with one of my paws. I kept growing bigger and bigger I couldn't and wouldn't stop, I was so gigantic now.. fuck I think I could wrap my hand around Bruce's head, he could live under my massive pecs protected from dust, rain and sun.. if that would please me, I was now literally a mountain, a beast, my thick cock had to be bigger than one of Bruce's legs, my arms were triple his size with thick veins all over my massive body, I was sweating heavily smelling my manly smell.. no... monster *grunts*. "Hmmmm yeah fuck yeah this feels good, I thunder my mighty voice, I could get used to this i growl." When I thought I was done.. that wasn't the end, I felt like a train ran over me, an immense power stroke HUH! FUCK!!! WHAT'S GOING ON? my trapezius suddenly overtook my head, my shoulders became even more gigantic, my back exploded with bigger muscle, if my legs used to be like redwoods now they were bigger than any "super heavyweight" bodybuilder's body and I kept getting bigger and bigger and more massive AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA apparently it stopped for a moment, but returned to my pecs.... With every deep gasp or grunt the deep pectoral striations became more marked, my beautiful Bruce... I could engulf his little body between my pectoral cavern now, even though I would NEVER hurt him I felt giant, no.... Colossal was difficult to describe so much power but the most important thing was still missing... I felt a strange warmth envelop my cock, it got so hard I thought it was impossible, and it grew, slowly it grew *grunts* GRHA FUCK MY DICK IS BIGGER it got as thick and big as a tree trunk, my balls swelled enormously, they fell to the ground holding Godzilla's cock, it was so erect it was level with my chest, shit.. it was so full of cum I feel like I could make a fucking tsunami with my cum And it did, I wanted to cum as bad as ever, it was so heavy the floor was being destroyed, my grunts in a thunderous voice.. damn I hope I don't wake up my boy... wait BRUCE NO!!!, DAMN IT I HAVE TO RUN IN ANOTHER DIRECTION BEFORE I DROWN MY BRUCE with a scream so bestial and animalistic that echoed everywhere I forced my monster cock to point to another direction with the strength of my arms and huge pecs, it was so sensitive that it made me scream from ecstasy, so much pre cum was coming out that it could flood an Olympic swimming pool. Grandpa? Suddenly I forgot I had a cumshot that could wipe out an entire town, I heard Bruce's soft voice in my ears I turned as best I could between the beastly pecs that were pressing against me, god.... He was so cute and so small, his skinny body.. shit I must be 20 times bigger than my Bruce or more I don't even know how big I am anymore, he was in his beautiful blue pajamas, seeing his skinny body finished killing me, I couldn't hold back much longer, I growled in what must have been the most thunderous and terrifying voice my little guy heard, Bruce gave a Breathe and a step back fuck I'm scaring him, I hate that so much.. BRUCE... *SCREAMS* MY BOY PLEASE STAY AWAY... I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU GHRAAAA *GRUNTS* QUICK BEFORE I LOSE CONTROL HUUFFF, I CAN'T ANYMORE.... *GRUNT* YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL MY BABY And I exploded GRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Between the abysmal feeling of pleasure I remembered what they did to Bruce, and as if it was an impulse a deep rage came out, I felt as if my whole body grew more because of my deep anger and my bestial orgasm. SO POWERFUL, SO MONSTROUSLY BIG, I'M THE BIGGEST I'M THE MOST MASSIVE FUCKEEEEEEEER NO ONE WILL EVER TOUCH MY BABY BOY, I'M NEVER GONNA STOP YOU FUCKING WIMPS, I'M GONNA CRUSH ANY MOTHERFUCKER THAT TOUCHED MY BRUCE.... MY BABY GRHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA everything was destroyed, a run so powerful that it flooded the forest, uprooted trees and rocks in its path, and the hut in which Bruce and his grandfather were living was crushed by the semen. After he began to calm down from the monstrous roaring and my powerful grunts began to subside, I looked for Bruce, saw the landscape of destruction he had made and feared the worst. "BRUCE? SON ARE YOU OKAY? DID I HURT YOU?" No one answered... "BRUCE... BRUCE PLEASE ANSWER SON DID I HURT YOU? NO... NO PLEASE" my huge chest was rising and falling heavily, I was growling like an animal, but in reality I was scared, scared of my power, of having hurt the person I love the most. "G-grandfather..." I heard his voice faintly, he was buried in semen, he was on his knees so small and frail.. shivering from the cold and.. fear, my heart shrank at the sight of my precious grandson in that state My massive body moved on its own, my monstrous paw grabbed Bruce, damn I grew so big he fit in my huge hand, I ripped off his cum covered pajamas pulled him close to my truck sized chest, it felt cold on my skin, my little boy was freezing "Bruce, son I'm so sorry.. I couldn't control myself I thought.. I thought I had hurt you, for a moment I thought I had lost you." He stared at me open mouthed, his little hand came up to my strong face touching and caressing me with his soft touch, he stroked my thick white mustache tickling his little fingers, shit he was so cute and tender, I wrapped my arms around him, my fucking arms were 5 times bigger and thicker than my little boy was wrapped between so much muscle so massive.... I started to kiss his fingers that were kissing my full lips, I wanted to growl so wildly that all of fucking nature knew that he was mine... that nothing and no one was ever going to hurt him ever again. Fuck... My cock was getting hard again, my chest was tightening hard, Bruce ran his hand along the deep pectoral striations, he felt my thick chest hair, his fingers working their way through the hair, he tried to squeeze to see if he could bend my skin, it wouldn't budge.... he was so fucking powerful, my chest was so big he could lie on it without a problem, I couldn't take it anymore, I pulled Bruce closer and kissed him, I wanted to show him the deep love I feel for him, his thin soft lips on my old man moustache, feeling his tongue caress mine, made me growl like a beast, we broke the kiss, I was panting so heavily just the power of my chest forced my boy's whole body to rise and fall just because my pecs were 5 times heavier than Bruce. "I love you son... I want you to know that all this power, all this muscle the reason I became a monster was for you my life, nothing and no one will hurt you again, I'll take care of that..*grunts* I want to be the strongest beast for you, your giant protector *gasps deep* fuck.... I'm getting so hard again" Bruce was shaking, I was still cold in my chest despite the heat radiating from my huge body, I opened my pectoral cavern with my bear paws, I felt so much pleasure I wanted to scream, Bruce got in the middle of those mountains of flesh enveloping him, only leaving his shoulders and head in sight, shit.. he looked so small a simple flex of my colossal chest could have crushed him... but I would NEVER do anything to hurt my precious boy, my thick chest hair wrapped around him like a blanket, I felt his small penis touching one of my deep grooves. I can't help but sigh deeply, causing my monstrous pecs to swell almost swallowing Bruce whole.... "shit.. sorry Bruce, are you comfortable? If you feel like I squeezed you too tight unintentionally or you want out you can tell me anytime, hmmm it feels so good to have you between my chest like this son.... Keeping you warm and most of all safe, feeling your body like this, your little cock on my chest makes me so horny baby." I give a soft kiss on Bruce's forehead, it's precious. "Yes grandpa, I feel hotter.. you are, you are so big and strong grandpa, I..... I love you, being here in the middle of your mammoth chest I feel so protected and saved... I don't want it to end grandpa." Bruce was starting to fall asleep on my chest, laying his head on my dinosaur neck, I felt my nipples get so fucking hard they could easily go through steel, I sat up making a thud I crushed some tree trunk with my ass apparently, I don't care anymore, all that matters is that Bruce is safe and satisfied, I want to keep growing bigger and bigger for my little boy, I touched my abs with my thick fingers, they feel so hard, almost rock solid each one of the 8 pack must be bigger than my boy's torso, my cock.. damn it's so hard again, I feel like I could cum like before but I need to calm down so I don't wake Bruce, I take small breaths so I don't drown Bruce on my chest, I can smell his hair, he smells good. We stayed like that for the whole night... I was still very excited in spite of everything... and Bruce was sleeping so peacefully, so relaxed and comfortable, I almost feel like crying to see my beautiful baby without worries or pain, I felt his soft breathing on my breast "Grandpa?" Ohh he woke up "Yes sweetie?" I said in a soft voice. "Can I come down to your legs?" "Of course you can honey" with huge muscular mastery I opened my monumental chest. "Sorry Bruce, I have to scream, it's so exciting..." GRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT FEELS SO POWERFUL.. I felt the little guy go down my huge chest using the stretch marks as a grip causing me more pleasure I immediately calmed down, bruce reached my leg, I didn't feel him fuck.... He wasn't heavy at all, I have to be careful how I move, I couldn't see him because my chest was so massive "Wow grandpa you are so big.... Your leg is bigger than those tree trunks l, so much bigger..... It feels so hard grandpa and you're not even flexing it, it's kind of scary to stand next to a leg that's 6 times my size, with your thick hair and big veins everywhere." "I know it must be a hard thing to process son... but I don't want you to be afraid, I would never hurt you not one bit of my massive body want that, the only thing I exist for is to protect you Bruce, I love you my little honey.
  15. Hey everyone, this storyfied roleplay is quite a slow burn and turned out to be just an experiment on how to tease. Enjoy! --------------- Credits to the following (discord) role-player’s I met to create this: CookiesAreCool, MwS Copyright disclaimer: I don't own any picture. I link every source if possible. Please contact me or a moderator in case of demanded removal.
  16. Bigrowinggod

    Your going to be a god babe

    chapter 1 Marcus pov “Babe a package arrived for you says it’s from titan corp” my adorable husband ray said. I carefully went down the stairs even though they were reinforced i was still 500 pounds of muscle. I grab him from behind lifting him up “i still can’t believe I convinced you to marry me” I say kissing him. He blushes “I think I should be the one saying that your the beautiful dark god the swept me off my feet with your love of dnd” ray said looking at me with nothing but love and a little lust as he reminded me of how we got together. about 7 years ago the government randomly selected people for the titan program which was really just them testing out super solider serum on the lower class wether it work on you or not you got a fat check and all medical covered for life and free college. And it worked for me went from a 140 pounds to 500 all muscle and I’m still growing a bit. After my results and a bunch of tests I was released and went to a nearby college where I met ray a kinda chunky guy but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about dnd or his other hobbies drew me in and after we hung out a few times I asked him out the rest is history. I opened the package and pulled out the vial inside the same stuff that grew me “babe this is for you even though I think your perfect the way you are I wanted to give you the option to grow as big as me” “how did you even get your hands on this isn’t this worth millions as this point “ ray says “I pulled some strings alright don’t worry ” I put the vial in his hand “just drink it if you want to or toss it up to you babe” ray pov I didn’t even have to think about it I opened it and downed it in one go. Even though I knew he loved me for me I always had that voice in my head that I wasn’t worthy enough to be in a relationship as perfect as this one. Just seeing him walking around the house made me hard and now I was gonna grow just as big as him (picture of Marcus)
  17. MuscleAndBulge

    Changing Fortunes

    A trip to the fortune teller gives Mark the answer to his relationship problems, although not in the way he expected. I hope you all enjoy! ~~~~~ “Come inside Mark” I entered the small room, its walls covered with posters showing astrological signs, tarot cards, and other assorted mystical adornments. A friend of mine had suggested this particular woman, vouching for her and enthusiastically repeating that she was the real deal and could probably help me with whatever problem I was having. I took a seat across from her at a small table covered with an intricately patterned fabric. I half expected there to be a crystal ball in the middle for her to wave her hands over and peer into as she read my fortune. Normally I wouldn’t seek out the help of a fortune-teller, but my friend had been so insistent that I visited her if for no other reason than to get him to stop pressuring me. Besides, I could only stand to benefit. Even if I lost fifty bucks in the process. Although a small sign in the front window said “satisfaction guaranteed!” “Tell me, what can Madame Garmand help you with?” She asked as she adjusted a shawl draped over her shoulders that was also a very ornate and intricate fabric. “Well, I’ve been having some problems in my relationship with my boyfriend. I want to know if things will get better with him or if I should move on.” “You want to leave him?” “No… not really. We get along well, and we share a lot of interests. Things have just gotten… stale. Like there’s no spark anymore.” “And you want me to tell you if this spark will come back.” “I suppose so. All I know is that if things stay the same, I’m not sure I want to stay with him.” “I see. Would you happen to have something that he gave you? Something that was a romantic gift.” I wasn’t expecting this. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and started searching for something. Near the bottom of the bag was a warm hat Erik had given me last autumn when my ears were cold after not dressing warm enough. It was our fourth or fifth date and we had been going out for about a month and Erik offered it to keep me warm. The next day I tried to give it back, but Erik had insisted that it looked better on me. I handed this hat across the table and the fortune teller took it. She examined the plain hat and asked, “this is your romantic gift?” with only a hint of skepticism. I explained the story and she nodded slowly, satisfied that the item would suffice. She laid it in the center of the table and said, “give me your left hand.” I reached out and she grasped it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. We sat there in silence for what felt like five minutes. Her eyes were moving under her eyelids as though reading something written on the other side. She opened her eyes and looked at me as her lips formed a crooked smile. “I have the solution to your problems.” “You do? That was… fast.” “It will cost you extra, but I guarantee it will work. Or I’ll refund you all the money you spent here today.” I was little surprised. I didn’t think there would be an upsell at a fortune teller. But considering her guarantee, I figured I had come this far so I may as well see it through. At least that way I gave it an honest try. “Alright, fine.” I pulled the cash from my wallet and handed it over to the fortune teller. She plucked it from my fingers with a bit of a flourish. “You won’t regret it dear.” Then she winked and walked out of the room. I heard some rummaging, and a few things crashed in the other room. She probably lived in the small boutique shop. She spoke loudly from the other room, “My services sometimes go beyond your usual tarot card reading or tea leaves. You’re lucky you came to me, you’re one of the lucky ones that will benefit from my… unique skills in fashion.” I wasn’t sure what she meant, I just hoped my money wasn’t wasted on a fortune teller that was out of her mind. She came back into the room with a small cardboard box. “Take this home with you and wait until you’re alone to put it on. Wear it as you go about your day and that spark between you and Erik will be back before you know it. If there are any problems, or you aren’t completely happy, you can find me here.” I was intrigued and started opening the box, but Madame Garmand stopped me “Wait until you’re home to open it! Now go, I have another client waiting.” And she shooed me out the door. Slightly confused, I got on the next bus and headed for home. ***** Once back at the apartment, I gave in to my curiosity. I pulled the small box out of his backpack and opened it. Some tissue paper was wrapped around whatever was inside. I had guessed it was something to wear, but what would fit inside such a small box? Pulling back the paper, what was inside was a jockstrap. It was a navy blue, very similar in color to the hat I had shown the fortune teller. I held it in my hands, a little shocked at what I had spent the extra money on. What had the fortune teller seen that made her think this would be the salvation of my relationship with Erik? I set aside the doubts in my head and followed the instructions. I undressed and put on the new garment. Stepping in front of the mirror to get a better look, I found there were two buckles, one on each hip. The pouch was a stretchy material that held my junk in place. Turning around in front of the mirror, I found a handwritten product tag hanging from the waistband. For those seeking more. Moisture wicking fabric. Buckles for easy undressing. Washing may cause shrinking. Interesting product information. Not like I could read the selling points before buying it. It was early in the afternoon, and I figured I should go to the gym before Erik got back from his 9 to 5 office job. With the summer nearly here, I didn’t bother changing at the nearby gym, instead just walking over in workout clothes. I did my usual exercise routine. I had made some small gains in the few months since I started working out. I listened to music and zoned out while I moved from one machine to the next. I was working up a sweat today, probably because of the warmer weather. As I continued working out, I found that I was pushing more weight than previous weeks, adding more and more weight as I went. I must be getting stronger than I thought! Maybe I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough before. I was now on the leg press machine when I started to notice something was off. I was pushing two more plates than I was last week! And I wasn’t struggling nearly as much! The last exercise on my list is preacher curls. I loaded up my usual weight, but it took hardly any effort! I added more weight, probably more than I should be attempting. I stepped into the machine and started pulling. It was a struggle, but I was able to do ten full reps of this weight that should not be possible for me to handle. While I was resting between sets, I made eye contact with a sweaty, muscular hunk. I gave him a node and he nodded back at me. I tried another set with this weight, and I somehow managed to get 15 reps! That was the last set of my workout, so I whipped the sweat off the machine and made my way to the doors. It wasn’t until I was walking past a wall of mirrors that I realized the sweaty hunk I had seen earlier was just my reflection! I had grown bigger muscles while I was working out! I was in shock as I inspected the changes in the mirror. I must have gained 30 lbs.! I turned and started flexing, aghast that it was my own reflection that showed such a physique. My mind was reeling. I made my way home. When my shirt and shorts felt tighter during my workout, I assumed my sweat was causing the fabric to stick to my skin. But as I walked home, I could feel the shorts tightening around my bigger thighs. The sleeves on my t-shirt were bunching around my upper arms. Was I still growing? Some drivers were turning their heads as they drove by. I picked up the pace so I wouldn’t cause an accident. By the time I got home, my clothes were skin-tight. You could see my substantially bigger muscles through the fabric. I peeled them off and looked in the mirror, where I had stood just a couple hours prior with far less muscle packed on my frame. I now looked like I had been a gym rat for years, almost ready to compete in a junior bodybuilding tournament. I had definitely grown since I left the gym. But after spending fifteen minutes looking over the changes in the mirror, I could say for sure that the growth has stopped. This must have something to do with the underwear Madame Garmand had sold me. I was thrilled with the changes and the hardon I sported under the stretchy material agreed. But I wondered how much bigger I would get. How much bigger I wanted to get… That’s when I heard the keys turn the lock at the front door. Erik was home, and it was time to show him how I had changed. “Hey, I’m home. How was your day?” Erik said as he set his things on the table by the door. “How do you think my day went?” I asked as I stepped out of the bathroom in just the new jockstrap. “I… you… what? How did this…” He could only stammer, his brain trying to process how his boyfriend’s head was now on the body of this Adonis. “So, you like it?” I said with my best sexy voice and grin. “Yeah I do! How did this happen?” “I talked to a friend who pointed me in the direction of someone who could help us get out of this rut our relationship has been in. I didn’t know it would be… this” I said as I flexed my biceps. “You’re sexy as hell now, that’s what happened! You’re like my fantasy guy come to life! You were always good-looking, but this is a whole other level!” I saw how much Erik liked this enhanced version of my body and I went with it. “Well come over and feel this whole other level.” That was the only prompt Erik needed. He was all over my new body. Feeling his way over every new inch of cobblestone that covered my torso. I flexed my arms and he would gasp, feeling the peak of my bicep and swooning. It wasn’t long before we were making out on the bed, with his body on top of mine. It felt like he was trying to feel every inch of me with as much of his body as possible. Things got steamier as time went on. With all the groping and flexing, I was starting to heat up and get sweaty. Erik pulled away from our make out session and looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. “flex you arms again.” “You want to see your big man’s muscles again” I said in my sexy voice and threw my arms up in a double bicep pose. Erik looked a little shocked “you’re getting bigger!” I jumped up and stood in the mirror next to the closet. He was right, I was now just as big as some of the biggest guys I had ever seen at the gym. “Tell me exactly what happened today” I retold the events of the day in detail. “So, this jockstrap is making your muscles grow?” “It must be, given all the things the fortune teller said. You did go wild when you saw my bigger size.” “And you do look sexy as hell in nothing but this jockstrap” Erik was now standing next to me, looking me over in the reflection with a sultry smile. His hand was rubbing my abs, which now formed deep lines showing an eight pack most seasoned gym-goers would die for. I looked down into Erik’s eyes, “do you want me to take this off and we can really get it on?” “Hell no! I want you bigger!” I was a little surprised at this, but the more I experienced these growth spurts, the more I liked them. “How big do you want me to get?” I said in my bedroom voice. I walked over and sat on the bed, sinking into the mattress more due to my increased weight. “I want to see how big you can get. But first I want to test something. I think I know how this growth thing works.” He walked out of the room and returned a minute later with a measuring tape. He wrapped it around my arm “20 inches! That already pretty huge!” “Alright. What do you need me to do now?” “Do some jumping jacks or run in place. I want you to get sweaty again.” I did what Erik told me. I started doing jumping jacks while he admired my rippling muscles as they flexed and moved through the motion. After a few minutes of this, sweat was beading on my skin, and after another few minutes Erik told me to stop. He wrapped the tape around my arm again “21 inches! I knew it!” Then he was looking at the tape more closely “you’re still growing! You’re up another quarter inch from just a minute ago. Take the jockstrap off!” I once again did as I was told and slid it down my legs with some difficulty getting over my blown-up butt and thighs. Another measurement revealed the growth had halted. “That must be it then. You grow when you’re wearing this and sweating.” “Eureka! What do we do with this new-found discovery?” I asked while bouncing my pecs and waggling my eyebrows. “Put this back on, then let’s get you sweaty again!” This new, commanding side of Erik was surprising, but I liked it. I slipped the undergarment back on and as soon as I was done Erik pushed me to try to get me on the bed. It didn’t work, as I now outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, but I played along and fell backwards for him. He straddled my midriff and his hands wandered all over my body. We were making out again while Erik rubbed his hard cock over my abs, bumping his ass into my erection that was trapped inside the pouch of the magic jockstrap. With the making out and rubbing, combined with Erik laying on top of me, it didn’t take long for me heat up and start sweating again. Slowly my muscles crept up in size. I couldn’t see but I could feel larger muscles fighting for space on my frame. It took Erik longer and longer rub the entire surface of my swollen pecs. Erik stopped kissing me and pushed himself up to look at my face. “Let me fuck you. My fantasy has always been to fuck a huge muscle stud.” “Anything you want, big guy” This was my pet name for Erik in the bedroom. I was taller than him at an even 6 feet tall, where he was 5’8”. But the nickname was due to his dick that was a surprising 9 inches long. I wasn’t a size queen but judging by today’s event’s it seemed as though Erik was definitely some sort of size queen. Erik jumped off of me to get the lube. While he did that I looked into the mirror from my position on the bed, and I was now definitely the size of a heavyweight champion, just as big as the Mr. Olympia competitors. I used my finger to guide a drop of sweat down the deep channel between my pecs, down further between the trenches of my abs, and onto the waistband of the underwear. Looking into the mirror, there was a subtle but noticeable surge of growth. Now I would definitely win the title of Mr. Olympia if I wanted to. Erik had retrieved what he was looking for and I raised my legs so he could get to his goal. With me on my back and everything lubed up, Erik started to push big dick into my waiting hole. I shivered as the inches filled me. I was enjoying every moment of it. The growth only added to the experience, the feeling was intoxicating. I was surprised to find that I was turned on by the strength and size of my newly enhanced muscles. Erik was now balls deep inside me and started to slowly move in and out. As he did so I would flex different parts of my body. This drove us both wild. My chest was sticking out on top of my chest and each time I looked at Erik I could see less of him, with more of my field of vision being taken up by my growing pectorals. Erik leaned forward and started licking my nipples. This sent a shockwave of pleasure down my spine. They were never this sensitive before. My pecs being bigger than the size of my head must have changed that. I instinctively moved my head side to side, but my trap muscles had grown so big that it was limiting how far I could move. I closed my eyes to let the feelings wash over me. I could feel the growth surge a little bit. I opened my eyes and looked down as far as I could. Erik was using his hands to guide the sweat on my skin down to the waistband to accelerate the growth. These waves of growth came with waves of pleasure. I couldn’t hold back my orgasm any longer. “I’m… gonnaa… cummmm” I breathed out. A moment later, a dark spot was blossoming on the fabric of the pouch as my stiff 6-inch cock jerked and twitched under its fabric confines. Then a new wave of pleasure hit me like nothing before. My twitching rod started to lengthen and grow. Both our eyes widened in shock. Erik completely stopped moving. Another spurt of cum erupted from my dick, this one larger than the last, and again my cock grew longer and thicker, my balls swelling to the size of chicken eggs. I was lost in these new feelings of growth. Another, larger spurt of cum grew the dark spot on the underwear, and again my dick grew larger. It was now bigger than Erik’s once larger phallus and it wasn’t slowing down. It continued to creep up in size, “it has to be over 11 inches!” Erik yelled excitedly. He pulled out and grabbed the tape measure, lining it up with my dick. “12 inches!” He was so excited by this turn of events. “You’re now a member of the footlong dong club!” My dick let out one last huge eruption. I moaned as the pleasure of my dick swelling wracked my body. The underwear expanded to cover the growing member. My dick swelled and swelled. “Holy fuck. It’s now 18 inches long” Erik said in a raspy voice. He started rubbing his hard dick against my growing python. He finally lost control let loose his own torrent of jizz on the underside of my dick. Then the growth, and the pleasure, went into overdrive. My cumshots were getting bigger as my balls swelled bigger than grapefruits. My cock grew faster than ever, inching up between my massive pillowy pecs. It steadily marched on as I watched it grow past my face. I finally stopped cumming, but it wasn’t until the tip was a few inches above my head that the growth seemed to stop. But it hadn’t. My massive cock was losing its hardness, but the size stayed the same. It was still growing as fast as it was softening. As it softened, the stretch of the underwear pulled the shaft back down over my testicles that were now the size of beach balls. While our focus was on the huge cock that had sprung out of my groin, I was reminded that my muscles had still absorbed sweat during that time. The reminder came in the form of my decreased mobility. I tried to stand up, but my muscles were taking up so much space on my frame that it made movement difficult. My huge shoulders were now so wide that they were touching both sides of the king-sized bed. With some help from Erik, I was able to stand on my own two feet. But between my two feet, and resting solidly on the ground, was my cock wrapped in that navy blue jockstrap. The growth had finally come to a stop. The underwear managed to envelope my gargantuan dick and somehow held everything in place. “This… You… are incredible” Erik was looking over my now-enormous body. I could see a fire in his eyes and I knew this was the spark that had been missing. “Help me get out of this thing?” This shook Erik out of his trance. I now knew why the design of the underwear had included the buckles. I was hardly able to reach them as my muscles fought for space, but I managed to unclip the waistband. Erik helped me remove the musky cum-soaked fabric and allow my dick to sprawl out in front of me. With his measuring tape, Erik determined that my dick was now as long as I was tall. And my back was ever wider than either of the two measurements. “How am I going to get out of here? And what am I going to wear?” “Well, we know this fits you” he said as he twirled the somehow-not-destroyed underwear around his finger. “The rest we’ll figure out tomorrow. For now, let me sleep cuddled on top of my god of a boyfriend. I laid down on the bed and Erik nestled in on top of me. My dick crested over my huge balls that were bigger than I had been this morning and the tip laid on the floor. While I listened to Erik snore happily, I thought about my new changed body and how much I loved it. And how much bigger I might want to get.
  18. Hello there! Just joined recently and wanted to write a story, so this is my first attempt at it. This chapter will mostly be set up, so not a ton of action at this point but hopefully it will set the scene. If you're more interested in the action I would recommend skipping to Chapter 4, when it is complete. The other couple chapters beforehand are just a small bit of exposition for those interested but probably not completely necessary. Warning: this has some religious tones in it and if that makes you uncomfortable I would recommend not reading this. Chapter 1: I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring in my ear. I absolutely hate that sound, jolting me out of a deep sleep. I had to give myself a pep talk to get out of bed, "come on John! Time to get up, you don't have time to lay around!" It was a Sunday morning and it was time to get ready to go to church. I sat up and stretched my body - flexing my toned 15 inch biceps as I contracted my arms. I stood in front of my bedroom mirror shirtless, just my tight underwear on. I flexed a little looking at my defined abs, nice set of pecs and toned arms on my 6' body. I'd really been hitting the gym for 5 days a week for quite a while, eating as often and as clean as I could. I was proud of my body at 28, I had worked really hard to improve my health and to maintain a weight of 185lbs. As much as I'd like to flex a bit I really had to get going - it was nearly time for church and I'd slept in a bit. I changed my underwear and put on a nice pair of khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt. The clothes weren't very form-fitting but I definitely could see some definition from my shirt. I styled my brown hair into a neat, handsome comb over. After brushing my teeth and lacing up my blue flat-footed shoes, I was ready to go! I stepped out of my small 1000sqft 2bed 1bath home. I climbed into my sedan and headed to church that was only a few minutes down to the corner. I've been going to Faith Church ever since I'd moved here to the South. The people there are very friendly and I always enjoy going to the services. It's especially been nice being a part of something since I've moved away from most of my social connections and family. I text back and forth but rarely ever see anybody in person. Honestly, sometimes it was hard to go. I'd been deep in the closet my whole life. I've known I've been attracted to men since a young age. I remember seeing men on underwear packages in the store looking at their muscled and defined torsos. Or shirtless men on the front of men's fitness magazines. I knew that I wanted to look just like that when I grew up. I am not really sure where the envy began and when the attraction started. Growing up in an evangelical background I felt so much shame and confusion around my own attractions. Yeah, I liked taking a look at men's bodies; I wanted to be desired and to desire another man. Being with someone was something my straight peers got to indulge in but in my context I would never be able to enjoy the same relationship. Not me. Honestly, it just filled me with a touch of sorrow. I had very deep connections with friends but now that I was separated by distance we have started to drift a part. It's made living here quite hard even though I needed to move here for my career. I can't say that I wasn't jealous of them too. They were all finding partners, getting married, having children. Meanwhile, I was drooling over meat heads at my local gym. Well after stewing over that less than savory stream of thoughts in my head for the thousandth time, I finally had arrived. There were small groups of families filling the front door of the church with stained glass panels all around the church. I quickly got out of my car and shuffled my way to my usual seat in the back corner of the church. No one really talked with me apart from a few waves and "Hey John!" 's since church was just moments from starting as the piano player began playing a hymn. I settled into my seat, looked through the bulletin, and opened my Bible. I started looking around to see if the pastor was getting ready to welcome everyone to church. Just as the music slowed and the pastor stood up a MAN walked by and sat just in front of me. I didn't quite get a good look of his face but he had a thick head of well-styled, faded brown-hair with just a few strands of gray here and there. He was wearing a really nice smelling aftershave. And he was absolutely fucking massive. He was wearing a tighter red and grey shirt made of a cotton fabric, but the definition of his muscles couldn't be hidden. His traps were huge and encroached upon his girthy neck whose muscles flexed and moved with every little adjustment. I could see his big delts and wife back that fanned out giving him an imposing figure. The pastor began speaking, "welcome everyone. Let me go over a few announcements..." I couldn't pay attention whatsoever. I began to clam up and my dick began to engorge. I looked around and thankfully no one was near me. I was getting a full hard-on in church, as I placed my bulletin over my pants to hide my thick boner from popping out of my pants. Should I be thinking of another man this way in the middle of church? "Please stand and turn to hymn 330. 330" the music director said in a booming, hearty voice. I quickly scrambled for the hymnbook and stood up pushing my dick against the pew in front of me. While the beautiful specimen of a man stood up simultaneously. I quickly looked at his body. His body had a very pleasant shape with his wide back slimmed into his midsection. His shirt was tucked in to a nice pair of tight-waisted gray pants. His glutes bulged out of his pants and his quads were noticeable in the upper part of his pants. I sang along to the hymn but kept getting distracted by the extremely attractive man in front of me. I began to feel a little bit guilty about lusting after this man in church. But this was the story of every person I've been allured to. They were a nice piece of meat for me to look at but remained a forbidden fruit. Men were nice to fuel my fantasies but never to be had. It was frustrating. I thought to myself, "John pull yourself together. Pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention." But I just can't. The entire service I hardly paid attention to the pastor giving a sermon, any of the liturgy, or the multiple songs. The whole service was my sexual frustration running through my head over and over again. Eventually the whole congregation stood up as the pastor prayed a long and winding closing prayer to dismiss us. It was strange having my head up in the clouds the entire service. All I could think about was what the front of this man looked like as I could hardly even get a side profile. "... Amen." the pastor said loudly, as the congregation replied, "Amen." "You are free to go," he said as the whole congregation gathered their items and began to get ready to depart for home or a restaurant. The man in front of me turns around to gather his items from the pew. He was even more perfect than my mind could conjure up during the service. He was around 5'9" and weighed around 230lbs. Man, was he handsome. He looked to be around his mid-30s. His hair was quite immaculate, and he kept a very short beard on his face tracing out a strong, chiseled face. He had dashing, kind, deep blue eyes. His lips were full and formed a joyful smile. His pecs filled out his tucked in shirt quite nicely, as a sligh outline of his nipped poked through his shirt. I had to jump at my chance immediately. I immediately blurted out, "Uh. Hello sir! My name is John it's nice to meet you." He looked up with a large smile and confidently brought out his veiny hands to shake mine. I obliged and shook his powerful hands. He gripped my hand confidently. "It's nice to meet you John. My name is Charlie!" he said in a deep, confident voice. "Well, we're glad you came this morning Charlie. I hope you found the service to be uplifting!" I said with a slight nervousness in my voice. I was in the precense of one of the most handsome men on earth, it was hard for me not to be. "Oh, yeah. I loved it. I thought the sermon was quite thought-provoking. I just moved to the area, so I have been visiting some churches here and there." Charlie replied, leaning on the pew behind him and cross his arms, causing his forearms to flare up underneath his shirt. " Oh, well, I am new to the area too. If you're looking for a friend maybe we could trade numbers and explore the city together?" I said with eager anticipation. "Oh, well that actually sounds great! I haven't really found anybody to hang out with yet and being single it's been kinda hard to adjust to everything here." My heart just melted. I can't believe that this was actually working. Maybe this was all just a bad idea, getting this close to an absolute hottie was a mistake. But there was no way I'd pass up getting to know this dude. I quickly handed him my phone, opened my contacts, as he did the same for me. I typed my information into his phone. "I'll text you sometime this week, dude! I gotta head out here soon but we'll figure out some time to hang out." Charlie said, shaking my hand again. It amazed me how confident and friendly he was. He was so comfortable in his own body. He was just the type of man I dreamt of when I was younger. He typified everything I loved about men and their personalities and body. The rest of the day my thoughts were occupied with nothing but Charlie. I've been so good about not jacking off, watching porn, or lustful thoughts. But Charlie completely derailed that and threw me for a loop. I edged the whole day thinking about his body. Eventually before I went to bed I completed my nightly routine of taking a shower and planning out my next day. I stripped off all my clothes down to my underwear. My dick was so hard, as I looked down at my bulge in my underwear. I began to rub myself through the fabric. It had been so long since I'd released any sexual tension and I was ready to burst. I pulled my underwear down releasing my dick as it flopped out onto my flat stomach. I began to think of Charlie stripped down to his underwear. His strong muscles drenched with sweat and pumped up beyond belief. His handsome, manly face looking down at his ripped body, heavily breathing as his chest quickly expanded and collapsed. "So... Fucking... Handsome... Uufffffhh" It was too much to think about much further. I began to cum all over my own body. The orgasm was one of the most intense I'd ever had before. I was so tired afterwards I didn't even want to clean myself up. It all felt so guilty but felt so amazing. I fell asleep with my cock out and cum all over my body...
  19. I had to overcome my Catholic guilt writing this one. Haha. I always wanted to write something from my culture and took this season as an opportunity. For many of us, whether we believe in it or not, religion is a cultural thing. Anyway, enjoy! Merry Christmas! PART 1 It was the middle of December, and Joshua Figueroa still felt groggy from the overlong flight from Heathrow to NAIA and from the two-hour bus ride to his hometown in Urreta. His father Domingo had failed to meet him in Manila. “The car broke down,” Domingo said. But Joshua knew that the old man would rather tend to his fighting roosters than inconvenience himself for his own flesh and blood. “You’re a big boy,” he called earlier. “I’m sure you can get home before dinner.” Domingo’s words proved true that afternoon when he heard his son’s footsteps coming from the wooden staircase leading to the antesala. There at the doorway of the comedor, with luggage in hand, stood a 5-foot 7-inch and 200-pound muscle bound man. “You grew.” Domingo sipped his hot chocolate which Felicidad had brought him earlier. “Of course. I wasn’t writing all the time.” The truth was, Joshua got depressed living solo as a graduate student at King’s College. Sure, the abundance of knowledge and the prestige he could get nowhere else first attracted the 140-pound man when he had stepped inside the university. But he realized later that he needed variety in his life, away from the dusty halls and dreadful conversations too common in his field. And so he used the scant time he had working out. He only wanted to blow some steam off initially. But the next thing he knew, he was putting more hours in the gym, lifting heavier weights, and gaining more quality muscle. And to prove to himself how serious he was, he hired a personal trainer named Liam who got him access to gear. “You should compete,” Liam said. “Your proportion and symmetry are to die for. If you diet down hard enough, you could place.” “I’ll think about it.” The new Joshua surprised his peers and advisers. They could not fathom how he even found time to build a phenomenal body when papers were demanding to be written. Joshua suspected that they secretly blamed his mediocrity to his lack of sacrificial dedication to the academe. But the call of the iron and the pump had already caught his heart. At least one man other than himself enjoyed his new body. As soon as he landed in Manila, Ethan called for a brief meet up over coffee. “You look like you ate yourself whole. I like it,” Ethan said, sipping his cappuccino. Merlinda, the town chandler, also said something of the like when he arrived in the cemetery to visit his mother’s grave. Such comments boosted his confidence, a little reminder that he had gone beyond that lanky kid who would ruin the game for his teammates. But there he was now, in the Figueroa ancestral house, standing before his father who kept talking about the time he lifted weights in the 70s. Joshua slept the whole afternoon and woke up late into the night. Felicidad had left him a dinner of chicken tinola which she herself cooked after Domingo’s favorite rooster lost. He devoured the lukewarm meal. He went back to bed, but he found it hard to sleep. His body was still getting used to the eight-hour difference. He wondered how he can survive this sleepy town. His friends in high school only consisted of the members of the chess club, and they had all found work abroad. He was basically setting himself up for a lengthy, unproductive holiday. But Manila was too terrible a city to offer a better alternative. Earlier that morning, inside that small comfort room in the café, Ethan was kissing his pecs and caressing his biceps. His fingers were tracing the details of his washboard abs down to his hardening cock. Seconds later, the smaller man was ramming his ass, reminding Joshua who the boss really was. At the end of the day, Ethan had powerful friends who could take Joshua to places. “See you in a few days,” Ethan said after their quick session. “The guys wanted a get-together. Carla suggests we discuss Philippe Léandre’s new work on post-humanism. But it’s Christmas, and who’s in the mood for that?” He kissed Joshua goodbye. The sound of church bells cut his thoughts short. He checked his phone. It was 4:30 in the morning. He slid the capiz shell window open and watched a familiar scene. The baroque Urreta church dominated the plaza mayor. In its yard stood a nativity scene, its manger still left empty. Cars, tricycles, and jeepneys sounded their horns to signal the arrival of the faithful. Paról or star-shaped lanterns lit every tree in the plaza where gathered the town’s families, couples, musicians, and street food vendors. It was the 16th of December, the first of the Misas de Aguinaldo or the nine Masses celebrated each early morning before Christmas Day. None of the Figueroas were religious, save for Joshua’s mother who took the burden of lighting a candle for her unbelieving relatives. Joshua used to attend such Masses with her because she would reward him afterwards with an ice cream bun and a bag of bibingka or baked rice cake. A brass band would play carols in the plaza grandstand. He would play with the street kids before his mother would call him to help her carry the bags from the market. These things made up his childhood memories of the season, different from those of his British peers who talked of Father Christmas and roast chicken and snow. Joshua got up to get dressed. If he could not sleep, he might as well do something else. He opened his grand wardrobe for some decent church clothes. He told his father to have Felicidad wash them before he arrived. But he realized just now that none of them fit him anymore. Nevertheless, he tried on his small PE shirt. Its sleeves just ripped off his arms before he even put the rest of the shirt over his head. He smirked, thinking how big he had become. He opened his luggage and took out some jeans and his favorite Nirvana t-shirt. He then saw himself topless in the wardrobe mirror. He smiled. His body looked magnificent. His eyes feasted on his broad shoulders, his bulging arms and pecs, the supple lines and curves crisscrossing his torso, all visible under the moon and lantern lights. He got hard in seconds. But his brief vanity gave way to the sound of the bells. He changed quickly and walked out of the house. He let the cool air hit his body as he strolled across the plaza. He let the smell of steamed glutinous rice and coconut milk fill his nostrils. The kids were already up, singing Christmas carols and asking strangers for some spare coins. When they saw Joshua, they flexed their arms. He flexed back and let them touch his 19-inch biceps. The town was full of life, and all the misery in the world vanished like vapor. Joshua felt like a kid again. He wished he could feel like one forever. The church was packed. Joshua came in later than most, so he had no choice but to stand up in the aisles during the whole service. He could force himself in the pews, but he knew he would take up too much space that could have been given for a grandma and her little girl. The pipe organs resounded. “Veni, veni, Emmanuel!” chanted the choir up the loft. Incense invaded Joshua’s nostrils and sent his soul to the holy of holies. And there in the wide nave, walked with utmost devotion, the ministers, acolytes, lectors, priests, and finally, the monseñor. One of the priest had a deep set of eyes which made his face a handsome one when in a good mood and a tired one when not. This time, the gauge turned to “Tired.” Joshua thought he looked familiar, and so he rummaged the obscure parts of his memories. He failed. He leaned against the pillar, letting the ceremony and the prayers pass by his consciousness. He had been dozing off from time to time. Finally his body was begging for a good rest. “Go in peace,” said the monseñor. Joshua came round from his deep slumber. The faithful who were moving out quickly while the choir was rushing through the recessional hymn. Joshua rubbed his eyes and yawned. He walked over to the side chapels by the church door where people were lighting candles and saying a few prayers to a myriad of holy images. One that caught his attention was a statue of a Dominican priest holding a ciborium in one hand and a statue of the Virgin in the other. The pedestal bore the name San Jacinto de Polonia, Urreta’s patron saint. “Making a wish, Josh?” He turned around. Before him approached the padre with a familiar face. He was two inches taller than Joshua. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt tucked into black slack pants, both oversized and made him look skeletal. His face screamed exhaustion. “Josh? Figueroa?” “Padre!” “Please, just Gío would be fine. Gío Castañeda? San Alberto Magno High School?” And then it him. Did he use play basketball? Was he that close friend of jock star Harrison Alvarez? “Oh, yes! Gío!” “Wow, man! You’ve gotten really big. How much can you bench?” A middle-aged woman approached the padre. She was carrying an image of the Santo Niño which looked too heavy for her little frame. She pressed her forehead on the padre’s hand and asked him to bless her statue of the Child Jesus. “Of course, Tita Tess. I’ll be in the grotto.” Tita Tess smiled and left. “It’s good to meet you here, Josh,” Gío said. “But I need to go. Duty awaits. See you!” He smiled and walked through the left aisle followed by more women carrying their icons, rosaries, and prayer books. Joshua noticed that the padre had a slight limp. He thought of Gío’s handsome face which triggered in him an unnamable desire. He brushed it aside. He was in a holy place after all. He turned his gaze back to San Jacinto. People said that if you complete all the nine Misas de Aguinaldo, your wish will come true. He never believed an ounce of it, but it sure filled the church to the brim during the holidays. He dropped a five-peso coin on the box that stood beside a jar of candles. He took one candle and lit it at the foot of San Jacinto. He rubbed his fingers on saint’s robes and made a sign of the cross. He then walked home, eager for a good sleep.
  20. Ras3rGM

    My gentle monster - part 2

    I woke up feeling my grandfather's huge chest and his hair on my chest, I didn't even feel that I was touching the bed, I started to feel and everything felt like steel, it was my grandfather's hard body, I felt his huge legs on top of me hugging me. - "good morning sun, after that fuck you fell fast asleep, I couldn't resist and I sucked you while you were asleep, I'm sorry son.... I was just hungry for you and you look so damn cute, in fact I feel bigger *grunts* it's like your pretty boy juices make me more powerful. It was true... I felt grandpa was bigger, I lifted my head and saw his arm, it looked thicker oh my god, the vein in his arm was thicker than my wrist or even thicker than my own arm. I touched his arm, to say my hand looked small was an understatement how can there be so much flesh on an arm, it looked bigger than the trunk of any tree literally. - "yeah honey my body is huge, I feel like I could crush this bed if I flexed a little *the bed creaks terrifyingly at the tremendous weight* fuck... I think I passed the 600 pound mark kid." - "hmmm yeah... look at your little hand on my gorilla arm it looks so small and fragile, it looks like it could break in the wind.... *places a monstrous paw on top of my smaller one* god... my grandpa paw completely engulfs yours, in fact I could cover your whole beautiful little head with my giant hand." - "it's barely morning and you're already making this geezer horny honey.... *kisses the top of my head lovingly* hmm your hair smells good son, maybe even better than my monster musk.... Maybe, it looks like this huge arm has you mesmerized, I don't blame you seeing something so fucking huge must be appealing by nature, that's how I feel when I see your skinny little body son, your smallness makes you so cute, my protective instincts kick in when you're near me, I want to protect you from everything and everyone my child, I want to be your blanket in the cold, the mountain that gives you shade in the sun, every lift I do with those ridiculous weights is for you, every breath my colossal chest takes is for you, nothing makes me happier than having you like this in my arms." Grandpa's words sent me to muscle daddy heaven, the most massive monster loved me unconditionally, stroking his arm I still came closer feeling his strong pectoral and hard nipple that tickled me as I moved, I started to lick his bicep, grandpa reacted and tensed his arm a little and got bigger and thicker for me, I couldn't stop drooling on his arm, I stuck my nose in his armpit and started to smell and his man musk, his smell was so strong and overpowering.. "Yeah son you like the smell of the old man in the mornings don't you? *deep growl* damn you're already licking my armpit, that gets me going boy *he puts his giant paw on my head and presses harder* that's what grandpa likes so much yeah... me smelling your precious hair and you smelling my giant armpit all for you... *, I start to press hard on grandpa's huge nipple, while I moan inside his armpit, grandpa's cock gets semi-hard and lifts my body* son stop... you don't want me to destroy the bed, if you go on like this I'll do serious damage to our surroundings *the bed creaks some boards cracking, grandpa's body tenses up*. "I'm serious son if you keep this up soon we won't even have a room to sleep in *grunts* if you don't stop I'll have to take you out. Grandpa grabbed me and pulled me out of his armpit, I breathed I stopped pressing his nipple but my mouth went to his huge nipple and I couldn't take it anymore and I bit it with all my strength, grandpa let out a quick scream everything got harder, it almost seemed like it was growing under me, the bed rattled in a frightful scream, he couldn't take it anymore, the bed was destroyed by the huge weight, my grandpa's body cushioned the fall and I felt no pain or anything, grandpa hugged me tightly as a consequence of the abuse to his giant nipple. "Look what you've done son, fuck I think I wrecked the floor too". Grandpa's body was rock hard, his chest hair prickled me a little, his embrace on me was tight, I began to worry that his state of arousal could not be controlled and he might break me "I'm growing boy... I feel so fucking hard and heavy, I definitely broke the 600 pound mark already, in this you turn me boy into a monster that keeps getting bigger and stronger, at this rate I'm going to get over the fucking house.... I feel huge. Between hugging his pecs I said to Grandpa "Grandpa you're crushing me". "Oh my god son...I'm so sorry I hurt you?..... *I shake my head* you see what I'm telling, you makes me stronger, having me so excited makes me lose control". He loosens his embrace on me but I am still in his arms, grandpa was panting deeply as if he had done intense exercise for a long time. Finally he lifts me up and I look at the damage caused by his body, the bed was in pieces, grandpa's underpants were torn by the pressure of his huge python, the floor was cracked by the blow, the old man gently laid me on the floor and I was speechless when I saw it. He was huge, no.. colossal, massive, I had definitely believed me and a lot his arms if they were twice my size before were now 4 times me, he could no longer see me through his pecs "damn boy now I can't see down my pecs" they were literally bigger than the front of our van and not to mention his nipples.. they were bigger than my erect cock each and as thick as a beer can, his abs or by god.... Each of her 10 pack was bigger than my head and they were so fucking defined I could clearly see the stretch marks, her legs once as thick as tree trunks now so massive I could most certainly crush a small car under them, I put my cold hand on top.. the little thing of nothing seemed to get lost in so much flesh, the aged beast growled animalistically The monster grandfather took a deep breath when he felt my soft touch... his mammoth cock moved, if before I didn't know how he put that thing in my ass now it was definitely impossible, he had a thick vein snaking his cock, it was throbbing like it wanted to get bigger it was so wild and animalistic... I trembled with excitement but at the same time with fear... seeing this abosolute monster made me almost pee there, even though I knew he would never hurt me and he was the most caring and loving being I was scared Grandpa saw my fear and growled "Son don't be afraid, I know I must look fucking intimidating now, fuck I'm so big.... So monstrous... but it's for you, I love you my precious boy *places a giant paw on my chin and gently strokes* holy god my fingers are so thick and big, just one of my fingers dwarfs your beautiful little face" *animal growl* his cock twitches again sending another shudder through me. "Damn it son you better get the fuck away from me, now I don't know how much fucking strength I have and you make me feel so horny my little.. *grunts* I don't want to hurt you by accident, please leave before I lose control again." "No, grandpa I don't want to leave you...I'm a little scared but I know you would never hurt me" I hugged as best I could the monster in front of me. Grandpa was holding back, growling loudly, with deep breaths, he stood still trying to calm the beast, whispering "he's so beautiful, Jesus my little James I love him so much, damn it...old man control him control the power, I will never forgive you if you hurt him...". Grandpa hugged me but gently trying not to hurt me, even so I felt him squeeze me tightly. He lifted me up and kissed me, a kiss like never before... aggressive, animalistic was his way of showing his primitive love for me, I melted into his colossal body letting him take control, he wrapped his arms around me, his cock lifted me up just with his strength, after the intense kiss the beast calmed down. "I need to weigh myself son, I need to see how you have made me bigger, more beastly" he gasped. He carried me in his arms to his personal gym, put me on the floor and stepped on the scale, he stepped on and the contraption made a scary noise and destroyed "fuck son, I'm too big and heavy for this shit... that contraption had a maximum capacity of 700 pounds, my handsome son made me grow way more than 100 pounds and I want to keep growing for you.." "But first Grandpa, can we have breakfast? All that growing up and watching you transform into a beast has given me an appetite." "Of course my boy, I'm hungry too I feel like I could eat a damn elephant...rest up, I'll fix breakfast today." I get up and we head to the kitchen grandpa made me breakfast an omelet with spices and he made himself a buffet to feed 20 men, he ate like a beast partly because he was still so excited. When he finished he looked at me with a face of complicity "I want to try something son" we went to the garage we had the van, a Smart he used and a car we wanted to sell in the scrapyard. "I need to crush something son", he lifted the car with his hands as if nothing, the car groaned noisily as it was lifted, he held it with a huge paw while with the other he sunk his monstrous fingers into one of the ends, grandpa started to crush the car from end to end as if wanting to smash it... the car windows exploded, the metal and steel bent, grandpa grunted but not for the effort if not for the thrill of crushing I was behind watching his gigantic back it was so wide it could completely cover the car behind me, I started to touch myself watching this old beast smash the thing like nothing.... "Fuck my fucking arm is thicker than this garbage.. it feels so fucking light and it must weigh like a ton" *he laughs deeply* "there is nothing stopping me anymore, and I will keep getting bigger... bigger... stronger...." as he grunted these words he was crushing the car until he could embrace it "so much power... so much massiveness" *grunts* "this is all so fucking weak, you little shit" he shoved his monster cock in and started pounding it hard, his cock destroying the metal. The old man was in a trance of musculature and self worship, he felt exaggeratedly powerful, some pre was coming out of his cock as well as mine. "Look at me son, I'm so big and strong, how I wish I had your beautiful soft ass on my cock instead of this wrecked car shit, the steel of this junk is so weak.. just breathing my monstrous chest crushes this.. but I can't, I would hurt you, I would hurt you, I would never in this life or the next want to see you sad or hurt.. that would break the heart of this beast that grows for you, but with time I will learn to control all this strength, just seeing you standing there touching your beautiful little cock thing makes me want to destroy this damn house *sigh* nothing and no one can stop me... only your beauty is able to make me feel weak, if someone would touch you, if someone would hurt you.... God only knows what I would do with that shit" grandpa's body tensed his protective instincts towards me made him alert, his muscles thickened and filled with power. Grandpa's feet were crunching the floor with his strength. I was trembling but not out of fear this time it was out of total excitement to see this massive Elder destroy that car like it was nothing, because of his words towards me.... "I don't know what to say grandpa, you love me so much..." - I started to cry as he touched me - "I just want you to be the happiest man in the world grandpa, sometimes I think you don't need me, you are so strong, big, confident, handsome, I'm so lucky to have you....". Grandpa looked at me very serious "Don't talk nonsense honey, I need you like the air I breathe, everything I do is for your happiness without you.... I wouldn't be so damn gigantic." He hugged the junk tighter, I could see his thick nipples piercing the metal, the old car had no shape anymore, he squeezed so hard that he broke it in two, if you can call a pile of junk two pieces, and moved closer to me.... he was a mountain, a fucking intimidating and imposing monster, he was tall, he must have been 7 inches now, maybe a little more, he lifted me up and hugged me "give this old son a kiss" he kissed me lovingly, his paw touched and caressed my penis, it felt good, I felt loved by my old monster..... End
  21. musclegin30

    The Ooze (Short Story)

    This is simple one shot. A short story about love and muscle. I hope you enjoy it. Synopsis: Sean and Ali are college roommates who decide to go on a camping trip. They enter a stretch of Woods in upstate New York, known for strange occurrences. A place where dreams can come true. They dream of growth and something more. There is a stretch of woods in upstate New York as deep and mysterious as the wellspring of human desire. It’s a place older than any small town in the region, but not as old as the mountains that gird its borders; A place where strange occurrences are so common, they’re old hat. They say dreams come true in those woods. They, being the “locals”. Nightmares come true also, certainly, but this isn’t a story about nightmares. It’s one about dreams come true and desires, fulfilled… * “Let’s go camping,” Sean Ewing said, one day out of the blue, a week before the end of sophomore year at SUNY New Paltz. “Just the two of us.” Ali Demir looked up from his laptop, surprised. “Camping?” he asked. “Camping,” Sean said, as if it needed no further explanation. Get some tents, load up his SUV, drive somewhere off the beaten path, and rough it for a few days. Camping! Sean loved the outdoors and so did Ali, so why not? “Ok, sounds fun.” Ali smiled, and just like that, it was a done deal. That’s how they found themselves on a desolate stretch of rural highway, in Sean’s beat up Jeep Cherokee Laredo, heading straight for the forest of dreams come true. They were two strangers, who became college roommates, and then close friends, the type of friends who everyone wondered ‘Are they gay?’. Sean and Ali had a friendship that was only suspect because they were male. Their shared looks, and touching, and sharing of food off each other’s plates and drinks from each other’s glasses wouldn’t have gone unnoticed had they been born with vaginas instead of penises. New Paltz was far behind them now, and Sean’s GPS reception was going in and out, but they were on the right path. Just a little farther and they would arrive, and Sean would be in the woods, in a tent, with Ali Demir. And he would tell Ali how he felt; how he wanted to be so much more than friends and hopefully Ali would fill the same way. They’d make quite the couple. Him, with the all-American good looks, six foot two, with caramel brown hair, green eyes, and a chiseled jaw line. His body hard and lean from hours in the gym. And Ali, the foreign exchange student from Turkey, with his dark hair that hung just past his ears in waves, his dark piercing eyes with a face, less angular than Sean’s, and thick, luscious lips, that begged to be kissed. Ali loved soccer and played it any chance he got, giving him an athletic build, not heavily muscled, but pleasing to the eye. “You’ve been camping in this forest before?” Ali said in his thick Turkish accent that was both funny and oh so sexy to Sean’s ears. “Not in this particular place, but I’ve been camping nearby with my father and brother.” They whizzed by countless trees, whose long shadows stretched across the road. How many people had those trees seen, Sean wondered? Families. Friends, Lovers... “I’ve read these woods are special,” Ali said, staring out the open car window, a breeze running through his dark locks. “Special how?” Sean asked, glancing briefly towards his friend. “Like, people see weird shit?” Sean laughed. He always found it funny when Ali cursed. Him and a couple of friends had taught the Turk all the American curse words. ‘Shit’ and ‘Fuck’ were his favorites but with his accent they came out as ‘sheet’ and ‘fahk’. Ali eyed him coyly, then said “Shit, Shit, Shit!” Making Sean laugh even harder. When Sean regained his composure he said, “I don’t know about weird sightings, but I do know people say wishes come true in these woods.” How he hoped so. “Is that right?” Ali looked at him, with a smile playing on his sexy lips. Their eyes met briefly. “That’s right,” Sean said, turning away from Ali’s eyes. They were dark like the ocean at night. He could find himself lost in them. “So, I heard.” “This is it,” Sean announced after a moment of silence. He turned onto a narrow road covered by a canopy of branches so thick it was like going into a tunnel. They parked in a gravel lot that had a lookout. The two friends leaned on the railing taking in the sight of the Adirondack mountains far in the distance and a babbling brook below. Then they took a series of Instagram photos. In the final shot Sean captured the two of them together, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and biggest smiles plastered on their faces. They loaded their gear onto their backs and marched off, side by side down a mossy forest trail, just after Noon. Their packs were heavy and Sean was thankful they were both physically fit as they trudged up the sloping path. Ali moved ahead of Sean at one point. He wore shorts that fell just above the knee. Sean watched the ball of Ali’s lean calf rise and fall, flexing with each step. His eyes moved up and he gazed with lust at Ali’s firm, tight ass pushing out against the fabric of those shorts. Sean had always admired his friend’s ass. Oh, the things he’d do to that ass! How would it go? Sean found himself daydreaming on the long hike, fantasizing about the night to come. First, they would eat a light meal: fresh fish cooked over an open fire. Their eyes would meet across the flames as the fire’s hypnotic glow washed over them, it’s heat nothing in comparison to the passionate heat building within them. Sean would smile. Ali would smile and an unspoken pact would pass between them. Tonight, is the night we do it. The big It. Sean would say I’m tired, let’s hit the sleeping bags. Ali would agree and they would go, walking close, peeling out of their clothes. Of course, they would share a tent. Inside the tent, shirtless, wearing only boxers, the two would lie in repose atop the softness of their sleeping bags, gazing up sharing furtive glances at each other. Outside, the sound of nightlife would fill the air, a symphonic chorus of animals all seeking out mates of their own. Ali would make small talk about some obscure Oscar bait film he had seen, him being a film buff. Sean would listen intently, though he cared little for films, because he could listen to Ali talk about anything and enjoy it. Sean would rest on his side, leaning on his bent arm staring at Ali with a grin as he spoke. Staring, until the sexual tension was so thick it couldn’t be resisted any further. He would lean in closer and closer, feeling Ali’s nervous breath hit his face. Then the kiss, long and passionate, with lots of tongue. Sean’s hand would fall over Ali’s lean waist, running along his obliques. Ali would grip a bicep with one hand and Sean’s back with the other. Their pecs touch and their hearts would race with passion, beating as one. Ali’s hands would move lower to Sean’s underwear, seeking out his cock, tugging at it, letting it stiffen in his hand. Once Sean was as hard as he could get, Ali would go down on him, taking the thick seven and a half in cock in his mouth lubing it up, before turning to present his ass for penetration saying do you want it. Do you like it… “Do you like it?” “Huh?” Sean said, pulled from his daydream. “I was saying this looks like a good spot to setup camp,” Ali said. “Do you like it.” Sean looked around. Flat open land, with good shade, near the lake. “Yeah, I love it.” He pulled his pack off and let it fall to the ground. “It’s perfect.” They setup camp quickly and Sean said, “Wanna check out the lake.” Ali smiled. “Sounds good.” They walked down a slight incline through a copse of Aspens, whose trunks were so white and straight it was like passing through a series of roman columns. The path ended in an expanse of smooth stones, sedges, and mud. Larger stones, big enough to sit on bordered the lake. They each kicked their shoes off and claimed two stones side by side, then sat, letting their bare feet send waves across the shimmering water. Sean peeled off his shirt and tossed it on a log, deciding he’d like to get a little sun. He flexed his muscles slightly, and caught Ali looking him over. “All that working out is paying off for you,” Ali said. “You think so.” Sean looked down at his physique. His muscles taught and defined, but still pretty small. “I’ve still got some growing to do.” “Maybe so,” Ali said. “But most guys would kill to have a body like yours. I know I would.” Sean blushed. He loved when people complimented his body, but from Ali, it was really something special. “You’re not too bad yourself,” he said. “You have a good frame. If you started lifting weights, I think you’d surpass me.” Ali laughed. “I’m not so sure, but I might try to, how you say ‘bulk up?’” “Go for it, man.” Sean stood up, grinning. “Grow some guns like these.” He hit a double bicep pose. “May I…” Ali stood up and extended his hand. Sean instinctively leaned in, and Ali squeezed his bicep. “So hard.” Sean glanced down and noticed a bulge in Ali’s shorts. Apparently, his biceps weren’t the only thing hard. Ali was smiling widely as he poked and prodded Sean’s arms. “You like that?” Sean asked, feeling his own cock stiffening. “I’m just impressed,” Ali said. He poked Sean’s upper abs, then let his hand go lower, running his fingers over each abdominal bump. Sean wondered if he should kiss him. Would that ruin the moment or make it better? Their eyes met and for a split-second Sean was going to do it. He was going to lean in, grab Ali Demir behind the head and plant one on those luscious lips that demanded to be kissed. But he faltered. Instead, he continued to flex, letting his friend ogle over his physique. “You think I look go now,” Sean said. “Wait until you see me in a year. I’m going to be huge!” “I wish you were bigger right now,” Ali said. Sean smiled. “I think you might have a muscle fetish.” “A what?” Ali looked confused. “A fetish, you know. I mean maybe you don’t know. A fetish is like a thing that gets you off.” “Get off of what?” Ali asked. “I’m sorry, I know a lot of idioms, but not nearly enough.” Sean immediately felt uncomfortable at the thought of explaining ‘getting off’ to his crush, friend or no friend. “You wanna go for a swim?” Sean asked, changing the subject. “Absolutely!” Ali immediately took off his clothes. All. Of. His. Clothes. Sean was given a brief glimpse of his slightly erect cock before Ali leapt in the water with a splash. “Wow dude! I hadn’t planned on skinny dipping,” he said. Inside he thought yes! “Skinny dipping?” Ali made a confused face again. His wet hair was plastered to his head, shining like obsidian. “Swimming naked!” “Oh. In Turkey me and my cousins swam naked all the time. Haha. Skinny dip. Funny expression.” “Oh, so you’ve done this a lot.” Sean had hoped Ali had done it just for him. “Many times. Is best way to swim.” Ali did a back stroke, his cock coming close to the surface, but not breaking through. Sean shrugged and followed suit, stripping naked, then jumping in the water to join his friend. He wondered if some bird watcher somewhere had their binoculars trained on them or if some hikers caught sight of them. What must they think. Then it dawned on him. He was naked, swimming with his crush and yet he had been too uncomfortable to explain the expression ‘getting off’ earlier. He felt stupid. Ali was so open. He could talk to him about anything. He could say anything… Ask anything. “Ali, are you gay?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Ali stared at him briefly, then gave a coy smile. “Yeah, like you.” “Wait. You know I’m gay?” Sean was surprised. They never discussed sexual matters. “It’s obvious. No?” Sean didn’t think it was that obvious, but that didn’t matter. The important thing was Sean’s fantasy was a distinct possibility. He might very well have sex with Ali on this trip. He could hardly contain his happiness. The two swam and splashed water on each other for a bit before climbing back onto the rocks. Ali left the water first and Sean got a good look at his perfect ass in all its bare glory. Tight and round, and a little hairy, the sight of it made him light headed. They sat naked on the rocks, chatting, letting the sun dry them before getting dressed again. Sean thought about going in for a kiss several times during breaks in the conversation, but he decided he would save it. The night would be better, more romantic. Later that afternoon they returned to the lake with fishing equipment and caught a few trout for dinner. Sean cleaned a prepped the trout while Ali watched with rapt attention. The Turk had never cleaned a whole fish before, he admitted and honestly found he idea of touching the guts disgusting. Sean worked shirtless, not wanting to get fish blood on his shirt, and sensed that his friend was paying as much attention to his abs as he was the fish. Sean seasoned the fish with a little salt and pepper and skewered them on sticks. They roasted the fish over a crackling fire and ate until they were content, watching the flames die down to embers and the white ash drift toward the star-filled sky. “Look!” Ali shouted. He pointed to the horizon. A shooting star cut across the sky, followed by another, then another. A meteor shower. Sean took out his phone to film it. “Unbelievable!” he exclaimed, as gleeful as a child. “That one looks like it’s getting bigger.” They shared a confused look, then turned back to the sky. One meteor was not moving in the same direction as the other. It was headed towards them, an ever-expanding glowing orb. “Holy shit!” Sean followed its trail across the sky as it whizzed high over their heads. They heard a crash, far in the distance. “Do you think it landed in this forest?” Ali asked. “At that angle It had to of,” Sean said, grabbing a flashlight from the tent. “Come on!” He tugged at Ali’s arm and darted off in the direction of the crash. Ali raced behind him. They searched and searched to no avail. At one point it seemed they were going in circles. After an hour and a half Ali stopped him. He was sweaty and panting. “We’re not going to find. It’s too far away, wherever it is.” Sean shook his head in disappointment. It couldn’t have been that far away. He was sure of it, but he was tired as well. It would have been so cool to find he thought, but he decided to give up. Maybe they could look for it tomorrow. By the time they arrived at the tent the two friends were too tired to do anything but fall asleep. Sean couldn’t stay asleep long, however. He soon awoke with thoughts of the meteor in his head. Something in him urged him to seek it out. He glanced over at Ali, sleeping peacefully beside him and decided to let him rest. He’d look for it alone. Armed with a heavy walking stick in one hand and his flashlight in the other, he set out in search of the wayward space rock. He hadn’t been searching for long when he came upon it. Somehow, it was as if he knew where to walk. Some invisible force pointed him in the right direction, and he went along with it instinctively. The crater lay before him, an eerie blue glow rising from it, pulsing. The closer he came to its edge the less control he seemed to have. There was pulling, like he was iron, and the meteor was a magnet, and inside him there was a feeling. What was this feeling? Desire. Desire for what? Desire for what the meteor could give. But…What could a space rock give? He looked over the craters edge, that feeling of desire urging him along. At the center of the charred smoking earth a basketball sized rock sat. Veins of deep blue webbed it surface. It looked like no meteor he had heard about in school. Or were they called meteorites after they hit the ground? He’d forgot. The terminology wasn’t important in that moment, all that mattered was reaching it. But why? Why did he feel that desire? What could it give him? Carefully, he stepped down into the crater, which was a perfect circle many yards wide, and crouched beside the meteor. Its pulsing veins went dead! Its glow diminished to nothing in an instant and then…CRACK! Its surface split. Sean’s heartbeat with trepidation, his muscles tensed. From within the crack a black ooze spilled forth, bulging, bubbling, sending out pseudopods like an amoeba. Was it alive? The ooze was as shiny as greased obsidian in the glow of his flashlight. And Sean’s desire grew. He wanted it. Whatever It was. Without warning thin tendrils stretched upward and latched around his bare left forearm. Fear took hold in him as he dropped his flashlight and tumbled back, clawing at his arm, trying to get the ooze off of him. But the fear was only a short-lived response. A reaction to the sudden speed at which the being took hold of him. Within seconds the fear dissipated as he felt the ooze. Really felt it, as it stretched itself up his arm and melted into his skin. The feeling was orgasmic. What was this pleasure, this full body experience, that was better than sex? And then he noticed it. He knew now what he was desiring, what the meteor could give. He was growing! He saw it first in the forearm the ooze had latched on to. It was bigger than his other, disproportionate, like Popeye’s. Then his left bicep and tricep swelled, pushing against his skin, stretching it taught and thin, so thin that every vein and striation was visible. His arm must have been 20 inches around. So hard and lean. So large and powerful. He got an erection just looking at it. Then he felt his left delt and trap inflating, growing thick and full with more and more hard, dense muscle. He must have resembled tome deformed creature now, part of him looking like a Mister Olympia contender while the rest of him was skinny in comparison. And then his chest popped. Each pec swelled outward, shelf-like muscle titties, pressing against the fabric, threatening to burst free. With one swift motion of his muscled arm, he ripped the shirt clean off, exposing his new perfect pecs, the pecs of his dreams. Each one stacked with so much shredded muscle they felt heavy. Looking down at them, he couldn’t even see his abs. Sean cupped them in his hands and smiled widely as he bounced them up and down. The transformation spread to his right arm. This time beginning with the traps and delts and working its way down. He watched with rapt attention as veins sprouted upward, snaking their way down to his now thick, more masculine hands. And all along the orgasmic feeling did not abate. It only grew. He was more euphoric the more he grew, with every new inch added, every new vein, each new striation. He flexed his upper body, wishing there was a mirror in front of him so he could see the change that he felt in his abs. He ran his hands over them, counting the ridges. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. Eight! He never had an eight pack before. And the lines between them were so deeply cut you could lose a coin in them. He continued to rub his hands over his cobblestone stomach, feeling the paper-thin skin slide over the stone-like muscle as the transformation worked itself down to his quads. Each thickened in unison. Between them he could feel his third leg thickening as well, stretching longer and longer. Behind him, his glutes popped out, hard lumps of muscle. His calves jutted back, larger than he ever imagined they could grow. He now stood on tree trunk thick legs that straddled a horse cock, that would make any porn star jealous. Sean looked like he was ready for the Olympia stage, his whole body swollen with perfectly proportioned, shredded mounds of veiny muscle. He had the body of his dreams. When the transformation was complete, he stood admiring himself briefly. He wanted to whip out his throbbing erection and masturbate right there in the crater. But no. He would save that for Ali. Oh, Ali. His Turkish friend might just blow a load upon laying his eyes on him. As he ran back to the campsite, he felt his shoes fall apart. He had been so enamored by the muscle, and filled with euphoria, he hadn’t felt the discomfort in his feet as they expanded against is shoes. His pants, too, began to fail, ripping at the seams as he bent his legs, but they managed to stay on, albeit in tatters. 260 pounds (if he had to guess) of shirtless, muscle hunk came barreling through the woods in the direction his sleeping friend. “Wait until Ali sees me now. He wished I was bigger and I am.” Sean thought about Ali’s cut little ass and what his new monster muscle cock would do to it. The forest around him blended to a blur as Sean whizzed past tree trunks and shrubs. Branches snapped against his new hard muscles, but he barely felt them. His mind was solely on getting to his friend. What would Ali say? What would he do? How does one react in the face of a miracle? The tent was coming into view now. A light moved around. Ali was up, holding a lantern at arm’s length. “Sean!” Ali called, and Sean stepped from the shadows into the lantern’s glow, his chest, heaving, dripping with sweat. * Ali Demir turned when he heard the sound of leaves and twigs cracking. He raised the lantern to see a half-naked bodybuilder in tattered pants stepping towards him. He stumbled back, taken by jolt of fear. “Who…” he began. Then “Where is…” It was as if he lost all the English he learned. The words just evaporated on his tongue. The hulking figure before him was the perfect man. He couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the physical perfection and though he had been startled, he couldn’t run. When his eyes caught sight of the lean glistening muscle he was frozen by a feeling of pure attraction. He could feel an aura of sexiness in the air flowing off this muscle god and taking a deep hold of him. Who was he? Why was he here? “Ali.” He speaks. The living dream speaks! And it knows my name! “It’s me. Sean.” The man smiled, motioned to his chest with his hands, and moved one step closer. The muscle fibers in his arms chest and shoulders danced with every movement. Ali stared, incredulous. This man was twice Sean’s size, a god fallen from Olympus. His voice was deeper, his jaw squarer. But the eyes… yes, the eyes, and the nose. Even the hair style. They all screamed Sean. The tatters, too, dangling about the behemoth’s thick legs looked like the remains of Sean’s pants, as well. Ali shook his head. “I can’t believe it. How?” Sean told him about the crater, the meteor, the strange ooze and the orgasmic growth. As he listening to Sean’s story, he built up the courage to approach him. He stood inches away from his massive friend, who only seemed to have grown in muscle, not height. Sean stopped speaking as Ali looked him in the eyes and began to feel his new muscles. Ali had never encountered a body like it. His eyes turned downward drinking in every inch of Sean’s body as his hands ran over the bulges, veins, and striations, muscles hard as stones, skin as thin as paper. He gave special attention to the pecs, his favorite part. Ali could see Sean’s massive erection pushing upward, the bulbous head peeking out over the waist band of those tattered pants. Its body was thick and veiny, pulsing, and from its tip hung a long stream of thick pre-cum. Ali licked his lips. As his hands made a second pass over Sean’s chest, his friend gripped them in his larger, stronger hands and held them. Their eyes met and Sean leaned in, tilting his head. Ali mirrored the motion, locking lips with his friend in a passionate, exhilarating, long awaited kiss. Sean let go of Ali’s hands and grabbed on to his waist. Ali reached his own hands around Sean’s massive frame and held on to his thick back. I could stay like this for ever, Ali thought. They took a respite from the kiss and Ali said, “So, this really is a place where dreams come true.” “It really is,” Sean said. They kissed again. * It’s happening! It’s happening! Sean could barely contain his excitement as his lips locked with Ali’s and their tongues frolicked. His cock was painfully erect. Ali’s smaller (but no less hard} erection was pressing into his crotch. He couldn’t tell if the wet spot on his friend's pajama bottoms was from his own pre-cum or Ali’s or both, but he could feel it growing, spreading like the heat of their passion into the crisp night air. The stars above, the lantern glow, the muscles, the kiss, his friend so turned on…It was perfect. It was better than his fantasy, better than his wish. “I want to make love to you. All of you,” Ali whispered into his ear. “I want you to.” * Ali stripped naked as Sean ripped his tattered pants off, fully exposing his bulging glutes, mammoth thighs, and unbelievable cock. He led the muscle god by the hand, into the tent, their erections bobbing eagerly with each step. Ali carried the lantern with them. These acts had to be done in the light. He had to see the muscles as he worked them. He had to see Sean’s expression as he rocked his world. Ali asked Sean to lie on his back then climbed on top of the mountain of muscle. Sean’s nipples were erect, looking like two baby pacifiers. Ali squeezed and twisted them gently, teasing his friend. He fell forward, mouth slightly parted and kissed him, feeling those huge, hard pecs below him. Ali grinded on top of all that muscle pushing his body into Sean’s, letting there throbbing, hard cocks touch. * It was all he had wanted for so long. Now it was happening. He was making love with Ali, cute, sexy, Ali! The Turk pulled away from his mouth and stared at him briefly before kissing his way down his neck to his chest. Ali’s hands ran over his shoulders and biceps as he did so, caressing, squeezing, admiring. Sean flexed them causing Ali to smile. There was heat emanating from him, between them. Sweat was beading on his body and Ali lapped it up with his tongue, dragging it sensuously over the ridges and striation of his physique. His friend was a thirsty animal and he had what it took to quench that thirst. * Ali was happy to hear Sean’s moans of pleasure as he teased him with his tongue, taking in his salty sweat. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, then bit it gently. He moved from one to the other. Ali’s legs were spread, splayed out with Sean’s cock rising high between them. The massive member bounced, slapping Ali in the ass, as Sean was in midst of ecstasy, having his body worshipped. Ali felt, squeezed, licked, kissed every bulging muscle on Sean in turn, even rolling him over at one point to give his back side love too. Below them the floor of the tent was wet with precum. * It was too much. The foreplay. Sean couldn’t take it anymore. His balls churned. His cock throbbed. It yearned for release. But Ali wasn’t finished yet. He felt jolts of pleasure as Ali ran his tongue up his shaft, tickling his bulbous head with the tip of it, then taking the hole thing into his mouth. “I want to cum in the hot ass of yours,” Sean said. The first thing he had said other than an exclamation of pleasure since they had begun. Ali pulled away, a thin trail of saliva stretching from Sean’s cock to his mouth. The whole shaft was glistening with his saliva in the lantern light. Sean rose to his knees and turned Ali around with his strong hands. The Turk lean forward, glancing back with a coy smile that said, “I’m ready.” Sean playfully spanked him and cupped Ali’s firm ass in his hands, squeezed it like pieces of fruit he was checking for ripeness. Then he parted the cheeks, spit on the hole and stuck two thick fingers in, priming it for a fucking. Ali moaned loudly as Sean fingered him deep. Then he removed his fingers and places his throbbing cock into position, entering his friend’s hungry asshole. With rhythmic thrusts that shook Ali’s body, he began to pound, grunting. Ali’s long black curls, glistening with sweat dangled beside his head swinging back and forth in time with the thrusts. Their moans of pleasure rose up into the night, intermingling with the sounds of the forest, overpowering them until it seemed there was nothing outside of that tent. There was only them in that moment, in the whole wide world. * Ali’s hole was stretched as far as it could go. He was on the razors edge between pleasure and pain. Tears of joy welled up in his eyes. His hands dug like claws into the floor of the tent, nearly ripping through it. His whole body quaked. He could feel the force of Sean’s ejaculation when it happened. The warm cum filled him. But there was something else…Another feeling. * Sean’s eyes were closed briefly as he was transported to another world called ‘Pure Ecstasy’, but he opened them when he felt a strange sensation on his cock. It was being squeezed. With Awe he watched as Ali’s cute ass grew and bulged with muscle, at first hardly believing it. Why was Ali changing? He hadn’t been near the meteor. Sean pulled out, and saw, not white, but black dripping from his cock and from his friend’s ass. At first, he was frightened, then he remembered the strange ooze that latched on to him from the meteor. He recognized it here, now, a shining black ichor making its way into his friend. Then the growth continued. * Ali felt the best feeling he had ever felt moving through his body and watched as his legs bulged with muscle, one at a time. Then his abs bulged, then his chest and shoulders. The growth moved up his body, with his Arms the last to grow. He looked down at his new physique in shock. It was the body of his dreams. He was slightly smaller than Sean but looked every bit like a competition ready bodybuilder. The two friends stared at each other. Sean’s hand reached out for Ali and felt him as if to make sure it was real. “What was in me…I shared it with you,” Sean said, wide eyed. “I guess both of our wishes came true,” Ali said, looking down at himself and flexing. Veins popped and striations rippled. “You tired?” Sean asked. “No.” “Wanna go again?” Ali smiled so widely, his face might have split. “Yes, but this time you worship me.” He did a double bicep pose. * Sean pounced, locking lips, their hard bodies becoming intertwined. “I’m glad I suggested we go camping,” he said. “I’m glad I said yes,” Ali replied. They didn’t sleep for the rest of that night.
  22. Thanks to Dredlifter for the idea suggestion of this little thing - or maybe it will wind up being a big thing. I haven’t written a story like this in a long time - at least 4 years. I hope you will bear with me for a slow burn introduction here and getting my “verbal” chops back into shape. But the fun stuff will start coming next chapter. I am open to any and all feedback as I want to re-hone my writing abilities. Critiques are welcome -------- To Protect and Serve - Chapter 1 - The First Morning Prelude: Just imagine - You’re standing at attention with your peers in your best Class-A Uniform. All around you in the auditorium your friends, family, and fellow officers who can come are here to see the solemn occasion. A freshly earned, freshly shined badge has just been pinned on your chest by the Sheriff. You raise your right hand and take the oath. The oath is a bit different from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, but we boil its meaning down to one phrase - “To Protect and Serve.” So many have taken the oath. Some who took it did little things that made a big difference, while some risked their lives and paid the ultimate price. And some … well … some are special. This is the story of one of those special ones - no, he is even more than that. Though it was not his intention nor mine, he went beyond special. How do I know? He saved me. He has given me a life I could never have dreamed possible that first early morning. And what happened to him? Well, a transformation that is better in the telling. To those who take the oath as seriously as he did; To those who give it a new and bigger meaning as he did; to those who change more than they can imagine by repeating those words as he did, this story is dedicated. This is the story of what could happen if you could protect and serve many thousands of people, and just one man, me, in ways beyond your wildest imagination. ~ Gabriel York ----- A deceptively small man hung his duty shirt onto a dry cleaners hanger and placed it in his locker. As he stood bare chested in the cool air, he appeared to be hiding his body, but he had nothing to be ashamed of - having a lithe but very tight build under that shirt. Nicely shaped, mounded pecs accompanied hard small orange sized biceps. A tight 6-pack graced his lower abdomen to an impossibly small looking waist. He was way better than most men of his age, no “dad bod” here to be sure. But, the man always felt self-conscious in the locker room despite the room being empty. He wasn’t one of THEM, something that had haunted him since high school. He lifted one booted foot and then the other onto a wooden bench before him. Loosening the laces and pulling the side zipper, he removed each boot. He held them in his hands like precious artifacts for just a moment, remembering the first time he put these on. Soon it would be his last, he mused. His time could go on as long as he wanted. But -- he questioned why. What had he done to stay on? What good had he really done? REALLY made a difference? It took but a few more minutes for him to put on his civilian duty clothes (a departmental polo, slacks,and loafers), secure his badge to his belt, and close his locker. Most locker rooms were replete with all sorts of combination locks, but not here. A few men and most of the women officers used them, but it wasn’t exactly necessary. You couldn’t be in a much safer place after all. Deputy Sergeant John Declann closed his locker for the millionth time and went to collect his personal sidearm from the gun locker clerk. He had no sooner than entered the hallway from the locker room, he heard a truly tremendous booming upper bass voice: “WHOA, ONE SIDE DECLANN.” Declann immediately pulled back into the doorway and looked up … and up, to see 5 men in a tight formation with shields and cell-entry equipment. Each one of them was every bit of 6 foot 4 inches plus - although tactical boots always made you look taller than you were. They were more like 6 foot 2 without them - but still, they all out-weighed John by at least 60 pounds of muscle. At his 5 foot 7 inches in height and in normal shoes, he felt positively TINY seeing them pass by. That was sort of the point of those uniforms - to try and intimidate anyone who saw what was coming - and it always did, at least it did Declann. They were in helmets and wore thick padded vests, under which were black t-shirt with black BDUs and those boots below. While those clothes were technically “loose,” they did little to hide every oversized muscle in their massive bodies. Gigantic arms stretched forth from sleeves that seemed to be straining to the breaking point. 2 pairs of arms were thick, powerlifter looking, and 3 more were supremely cut muscle. The CERT - Cell Extraction and Response Team - blew past him looking like they were heading to Mary-pod - the maximum security section. No doubt it was to remove an offender from a cell for morning counts who did not want to be removed. There was no question, he WOULD be removed, no matter what it took. The injury inflicted was entirely the offender’s choice. And, that amount of muscle and its overwhelming power could do plenty of that. Declann had tried out for both the CERT and SWAT teams years ago. But at his 165 lb, it was deemed he just did not have the physical size necessary. “You have all the skills needed and more Deputy Declann,” he had been told. “You should be proud of that. But some other officers just beat you out in the scores. And we need you on the streets. That is where you belong.” Funny, he thought in a moment of jealousy. It was always those guys who were of larger than life proportions that got the spots, even if their skills were not as good as his. After the group had passed, Declann walked down the hall toward the sallyport and stopped. He always did it at times like this, halting at the Officer’s Gym. He looked inside. It was rather quiet, normal at 0545 and shift change. Still, he could see some of the remnants of workouts by the big guys on the force. 45 pound plates left on the sides of incline bench press rack. What looked like 5 plates on a side on the bar on the squat rack. Dozens on the leg press sled. It was a bit of a mess, in truth, but most well used gyms were. Now, Declann was no physical slouch. He always kept in shape and his skills honed as the primary martial arts instructor for the Sheriff’s Office. He could have done well in that room, even though he was pushing 40 years old. Could have grown. But, he sighed and went on. There was just a part of him that never wanted to face big men in the gym. The injustice of being mocked for his smaller size and unfamiliarity with the equipment the one time he went in blazed in him still all these years later. He guessed the big men thought it was good natured fun, but it hurt Declann deeply. So, he kept to his body weight fitness room and small dojo set up in the garage at home. That made him feel less conspicuous. When it came to them, John always saw himself as a small man in boots that were a size too big. And yet - to so many others, he wasn’t that at all. He was everything that made police work an honorable profession. --- John Declann had wanted to be a police officer for as long as he could remember. Since his youngest days, he had been fascinated by police dramas on TV, how they always seemed to catch the bad guy no matter the odds. How they always saved people in distress. In his mind, there was no better calling. No better way to spend his life. He had the mind to be anything he wanted. He excelled in most subjects in school and was a top flight musician. But, those pursuits were not where he heart lay. He was a cop at heart by his teenage years, and he did everything he could to prepare himself. He took JROTC through high school, where he picked up his interest in martial arts and started Aikido lessons. Though he wasn’t the best team sports, he blasted through the competition at his dojo. He became quite fit from the military style calisthenics workouts he adopted during ROTC summer camps. And, that fitness matched perfectly with his blooming skills with his hands and feet on the mats. Before high school was over, his featured had matured into those of a very fit, handsome young man with striking brown eyes. And he had his first degree black belt, the first degree of many. It took a nearly a year after graduating high school to get his first small town commission to the force. He spent his first 18 months in the jails, and then took and passed his Colorado POST exams. He had been a road officer ever since. Now, he was a Sergeant in the Boulder County Sheriff’s Office - an area not unknown for large scale crimes as it held the University of Colorado. “The Berkeley of the East” though had its full measure of minor offenses. But the area wasn’t exactly the worst gang spots in Denver either. He had for served with true distinction for nearly two decades since - being decorated for bravery multiple times for saving civilians lives under fire. He had saved those intent on suicide. He had even delivered a baby once in a convenience store, and the story made the local news. He had had plenty of hands-on run ins with offenders, but he gave way more than he got, never having much more than a bruise or a black eye on occasion. He just never saw what the community and his immediate superiors did - a good man, serving the people Boulder and the kids of the University the best way he knew how. --- John went out to his car - an unmarked Dodge - cranked it, and began the slow crawl toward the Turnpike then Wheat Ridge. One of the things he learned in his own initial officer training long ago was to never live in the county you worked in. It could always lead to problems with local offenders. So, it was up and over the Flatirons toward home. Even though traffic volume was already increasing as it spread toward Denver in the morning rush, his mind wandered as if on empty roads. He made the necessary turns though the city and came proximate to the University entrances, but was running his schedule through his mind. He was due for a weigh in at the doc’s today. And they usually took his measurements too. Height, waistline, all that stu -- John’s senses caught something in the barely lit dawn. Someone moving way too fast to be normally jogging to the right of his car. Moving toward campus. John slowed his vehicle and his brain went into observation mode. It captured the scene in moments with his practiced eyes and mind. A young man -- looking to be just outside of college age but could still belong to the University. Short, black hair. Trimmed beard. White button down shirt and navy slacks. Looked like there was some money invested in those clothes, certainly not cheap. Behind him, perhaps eight or so paces, was running - and running faster than the first - a white young man, shaved head, jeans and ratty t-shirt, tatted with jailhouse tattoos that stood out even under the fading street lamps. And, then John caught sight of a gun in the rear waistband of the second’s jeans. Semi-auto by the outline. Instinct took over. John turned his car in an instant, hit the flasher toggle for his lights, and wound with wildly fast, yet practiced precision toward the danger. Less than 20 seconds later, John pulled his car to a stop where his instincts said he could cut this off. “Boulder County Sheriff's Office -- ON THE GROUND NOW” John yelled as he leapt from his car and drew his weapon virtually simultaneously. The running suspect didn’t listen, just as John had expected. He instead broke his pursuit of the well-dressed man and taken off toward a side alleyway. But, John was good at his work. The offender was fast, but John - was FASTER. He holstered his weapon as he calculated his movements nearly autonomously. He had chosen his intercept point well. John calculated the takedown, knowing an almost undisputable, universal law - 95 percent of offenders have no idea of how to fight, and the remaining 5% seldom need to fight. And this one looked like the former. It took a few seconds, but just a few, for the whole pursuit to be over. Exactly two PPCT strikes and a normal compliance take down and the suspect wa on his back, with John twisting his arms and putting the handcuffs on. He never even had to hurt more than the punk’s pride. Once secured, John kept his knee in place just under the lower shoulder blades, cuffed arms resting on his quad, knowing a bodyweight advantage and leverage would be critical with this man who slightly outweighed him. “What’s your name?” John demanded as he patted down the suspect and quickly removed a 9mm weapon and several baggies of what looked like methamphetamine. “Fuck you” was the response. John smiled a bit and gave a half chuckle under his breath. He loved this a bit too much when it happened, and some mischievous streak in him just drove him to do it. “OK, Mister Fuk Yu. I am placing you under arrest for possession of an illegal firearm and possession of controlled substances. You have the right to remain silent …” John mirandized the “Mr. Fuck,” pulled him up to his feet, and maneuvered him the few yards to his car. He put the offender in the back seat and locked the door of his unmarked. The guy was going nowhere. Now, to more important matters. John made his way toward the young man being pursued - who had by now stopped and was almost collapsed on the sidewalk. Declann withdrew his cell, called 911, and requested uniformed officers to his location. He was upon the man on the sidewalk just as he hung up. John immediately knelt down to do a quick assessment of his condition. There were no obvious signs of trauma at the first once over. He then took a more careful look at the victim’s features. While he certainly wasn’t of student age, he was still under 30, John guessed. And, he was a very nice looking under 30 to boot. Blue eyes setting off dark, intense features. Old enough to just have the barest hint of a wrinkle at the eye but nothing else. John noted a rather slim body - the size of his own would have been were it not for his training in Aikido and Krav Maga. John felt a twinge of attraction.Yes, John was bisexual, but no one cared among his superiors anymore. Besides, he had always kept that part of himself separate when on duty. “You OK Sir? I can’t see any obvious injuries. Do you need an ambulance?”John asked as he came and sat down at the man’s level. “Thank you . . . . officer, thank . . . you.” The man panted in reply with a pronounced British accent. “I was . . . just going toward my . . . lab . . . after my tea . . . when this fellow . . . started chasing me screaming at . . me. ” The young man was now gathering his breath, becoming easier to understand. John was a bit surprised to hear that English accent coming from him. Not unheard of, but still unusual in Boulder. “Did he assault you in any way?” The Englishman finally looked up to see John’s slightly older but obviously concerned and kind face. He visibly relaxed as he looked into John’s light brown eyes. “No, he never caught me but he was close. I am not exactly in running shorts and shoes here. But thanks to you, I’ll be OK. I do not know what would have happened if you had not arrived when you did.” “With what I found, I suspect he wanted to mug you. You are rather well dressed for campus, if I may observe. And, forgive me, if he heard you accent, you may have looked like an quick target as a tourist. When the uniform officers get here, you will need to give a statement to them, or you can give it to me if you prefer. We need to make sure this scumbag gets what he deserves.” “Of course. Anything I can do to assist, although I would be much happier speaking to you.” the man said giving just a hint of a smile. It was then that the uniformed officers in their black and white vehicles showed up. John excused himself for a moment, let the uniforms know what was going on, and allowed them to take the offender back to the jail for booking. John then returned to the man still sitting on the sidewalk. Pulling out a notebook he kept on him for times like this, John got all the pertinent information as he had done thousands of times before. Name, description of what happened, when, and why, if he knew. Any details the young man, who he had come to know as Gabriel York, may have remembered before, during, and after. As he took the statement, John became even more convinced this was an attempted mugging, perhaps for more drug money, maybe even more if that weapon came into play. Knowing he had all he needed, John said, “Finally, is there a way we can contact you if we have further questions. The staff from the District Attorney's office will be sure to want to speak with you about testimony if it comes to that. Although with the evidence we have, this one will probably plea. This is not his first time in jail.” Gabriel reached into his pocket for a very expensive-looking leather wallet and removed a business card. “This is my lab contact information. I am easiest to reach either here on campus or with my secretary. My other lab is ...a… well ... it is easier to reach me here. Again I can’t thank you enough, Sergeant.” “Believe me, Dr. York, it was my pleasure. I am just glad you are safe and sound.” John said. “Are you OK to go on your own or would you like me to escort you to your lab? I would be happy to do so.” “Thank you sir, but I think I’ll be fine. My lab is just over the hill in the Biological Sciences building.” Gabriel replied. “OK” John said, handing Gabriel a card of his own with his name, rank, and contact information on it. “This is my card. If you need anything or remember anything else, please do not hesitate to call me anytime, day or night.” ‘Of course. Sergeant Declann.” The Englishman arose with a friendly hand from John. Almost as an afterthought as he was leaving, York turned around. “Oh, Sergeant Declann, by the way. I do ….ah… certain work down at the Federal Center in Denver. I will have to report this incident to my superiors there and to the British consulate. In case there is testimony or something as you said. They may wish to speak with you. Just to make sure. You understand?” John nodded. Ah, he works with the feds as an international scholar of some kind, and the red tape must be dealt with. “Of course. No problem at all. I’m proximate to the Federal Center half the time anyway.” York nodded an ascent and turned again to walk away. John stood a moment watching - and admiring - Dr. York move until he was sure he was alright AND that he was moving toward the Biology building. He turned around and began to make his way back to his car. As he did, he looked down at the card: Gabriel York, MD. PhD., FACS Research Director/Professor of Medicine Advanced Bio-neurological Applications Project University of Colorado School of Medicine Hmmm, John thought. He looked a damned sight young to be in such a prestigious job, a full professor under 30 and with two doctorates at least. And a fellow of the ACS -- so why talk to the Consulate? John’s “detective sensor” started to sound off in his mind. This advanced applications thing wasn’t a program he was familiar with, but there were so many new research projects on campus these days. But, as soon as the “alert” came, he let it go. Probably a government grant given what he said about the Federal Center. John was reviewing the incident in his mind for his own after action report as he pulled onto the highway. Suddenly, there was a loud roar of a horn and air brakes. John never even saw the tractor trailer that plowed into his car, crumpling it in an instant like so much tissue paper and driving it 30 yards down the highway. *** Two Hours Later *** Trauma room one at the University of Colorado Hospital was abuzz with activity. At least a dozen doctors, nurses, and specialist technologists in yellow plastic smocks and shields hovered over a trauma bed doing a myriad of tasks to the man laying there. “What do we have?” the lead trauma surgeon said as he came into the room and took up control of the life-saving operation. On of the smocked figures raised up and stepped back, raising his shield. “John Declann, caucasian male, age 39. Boulder County Sheriff’s Deputy. MVA - car versus tractor/trailer. Passenger was in a seatbelt with airbags deployed but required extraction by fire-rescue. Initial assessment shows superficial cranial abrasions, with most likely a simple concussion. No evidence of other cranial, brain, or upper spinal injuries. Seat belt bruising pattern is highly indicative of internal organ disruption, but nothing so far on physical examination and plain films of the abdomen. Lacerated and collapsed left lung, reinflated with chest tube. Pneumothorax proximate to same lung injury also responding. Initial x-rays show compromised T-12 vertebral body and possible pelvic fracture. No apparent lower limb trauma beyond cuts and bruises from extrication from the vehicle. CT scans are coming up now for the spinal and pelvic injury areas. This was a driver’s side T-bone crash. I think that this guy’s level of fitness is why we’re talking about saving his life and not pronouncing him. ” the lead resident efficiently rattled off. The lead surgeon took a look at the patient, and agreed with the resident’s assessment. John was alive because of his trained, flexible, body and more than a little random chance. But what kind of life was it going to be? The doctor walked over to the computer terminal screens and pulled up the CT scans. The pelvis showed a simple left side Ilium fracture. Non-displaced. Something the orthopods could deal with easy enough. He then flipped to the scan of John’s spine -- and frowned. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as he looked. He sat down on a stool and zoomed, in, out, rotated, and closely examined the different views provided by the technology. The burst fracture was unmistakable and at precisely the worst spot for leg function. As he walked back to John, the doctor barked orders to the residents and nurses, while he removed an ink pen from his pocket. He ran the pen up first one foot and then the other. Goddamnit, he thought. The veteran doc’s heart sunk even more. “Get neurosurg here stat. Tell them severe impact, burst fracture at T-12, CT visualization and reflex response indicative of cord injury.” The room went silent for a moment before carrying on. It was always hard to treat an officer. Much less for this. The supervising physician turned and again just looked at the radiology. The soft tissue injuries were no walk in the park, but were easily fixable, recoverable in just a few weeks, the pelvis in a couple of months, except …. that. There was no hope for that, in his experience. This man would be paralyzed. Five minutes later the head of neurosurgery looked at the same CT scans, and came to the same conclusion. No hope. They could do an exploratory, check and see if by some miracle there was just pressure on the cord from a fragment, but not likely. Better to just do a vertebral stabilization with the orthopods, but his chances to recover function … Declann had been stabilized and was ready for transfer to have his lung laceration repaired. As he was about to be moved, another man in a white coat burst into the trauma room. One look from him toward John, and his eyes moistened. “I...I...can’t believe it.” the black haired man wept at the side of the bed. “I had to be sure.” The man almost looked skyward, “Why him?” Gabriel tenderly wiped a finger down John’s cheek. “Gabriel?” the head of neuro looked up. “What are you doing here? Do you know this man?” “This man, he saved my life this morning, not even four hours ago. Kept me from getting mugged by this man with a gun. Everyone heard the crash and when I saw that the wreckage was his car. Is he going to be OK?” Gabriel was out of breath and had obviously lost clinical detachment between the events of this morning and the shock of seeing the officer who had been so kind and patient with him lying there. He would have been removed if treatment were still going on, but it was basically complete save moving him to OR. The two attendings just nodded toward the computer screens with the radiology still on it. Gabriel walked from John’s head side, looked, and was overcome with remorse and guilt. Had he just been at his normal time, 15 minutes later, none of this would have happened. But, he just HAD to check on a minor experiment. And now, this man lay here because of him. Gabriel zoomed in to the machine’s maximum sensitivity. He looked again and again. Through a choking voice, Gabriel looked around and almost whispered. “Jack, can you send me these scans please? To my secondary lab.” The lead neurosurgeon looked horrified, searching for a reason not to. “Gabriel. You can’t be serious. You know I can’t do that. It violates protocol, federal law--” Gabriel cut him off, almost angrily “Jack you know I can take care of that with one call to Washington.” “What are you going to do?” Jack asked, never having seen such anger in the young, brilliant surgeon and scientist. “IF I can, if there is anything I can do, I am going to try and help this man.’ “You can’t have a man as a lab r--. I can’t sanc---” Jack stumbled. Gabriel stood to his full height, taking on an almost military bearing. “You know I can and will go over your head if I have to. I will have him removed if I must.” Gabriel took a breath and seemed to calm a bit. “Jack I am not promising that I can or will do anything, I do not know if there is anything to do. But I have to try. I owe it to him. He is here because of me. I have to try or I’ll never forgive myself.” Jack knew Gabriel could follow through on his threats in an instant. He had seen some small manifestations of Gabriel’s connections to political power before, and he knew that interference in hospital functions was the very least of what he could do. As much as Jack detested it, with this kind of anger Gabriel could bring down the mountain on top of his whole hospital. But, as it was, there was nothing anyone could do for Officer Declann, not even York. Jack just silently waved his fingers in a gesture of defeat, nodded an ascent, and transferred access to Gabriel as primary attending physician. “Thank you Jack. I owe you about 10 times over for this.” “I WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT,” the older surgeon replied, his voice suddenly sharpened. “And I insist on one thing. Before you present him any of those things you do that I do not have a clue about, you will at least get his consent.” Gabriel looked like he had been shot himself and his voice shook, “I would NEVER do anything to harm him.” York turned on a heel and left the room, walking out of the ER doors, and toward his car in the parking lot. As soon as he was in the vehicle with the door closed, he pulled from his pocket an encrypted cell phone with just one number it could access, locked to his fingerprint. A male voice answered in military precision, “Yes, Doctor York?” “Codeword Ariana. I want the full computer network prepped for simulator study based on some CT scans that will be coming from CU Trauma ER shortly. Run the program with emergent parameters and stand by to report when I get there. Not a proof of concept level scan, Don, but full cellular level calculations. I am leaving the hospital now. We have 24 hours at the most to complete simulations. And...ah.. Don. This is important to me, personally.” “Yes SIR,” the sharp voice on the other end said. Gabriel could not quite understand what he was feeling, this pull toward this man. He didn’t know the man existed six hours ago. Sure, there was guilt and anger and sadness. But, he just could not remove from his mind those eyes he saw this morning. Those haunted, caring brown eyes. Something about him. This John Declann. He did not know what. But he saw it in his eyes. He deserved more than this, and Gabriel would find out why. He would make it happen, he willed it to happen as he drove toward the freeway. This good man would walk again.
  23. londonboy

    More Than Just a Big Body

    “Keegan . . . Keegan! I can’t breathe, man. Hey, Keegan!” I could tell he was falling asleep – the rhythm of his breathing was turning even and deep. I knew I needed to have him roll off of me or I’d be trapped for the entire night. Using a good amount of strength, I pulled my hand up between our bodies and found a big hairy nipple to twist, with as much power as my fingers could muster while smashed between us. This snapped the big guy out of his almost-sleep state, causing him to make a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Mmmm-hmmmm, my baby’s ready for round two . . . wait, no, round three.” “As wonderful as that sounds, no – it’s just that you’re starting to fall asleep and I can’t breathe . . . or feel my legs.” “Oh . . . sorry, hon, I’m just too big.” The understatement of the year. The cold, winter’s night air briefly sent a shock to my body as he rolled off of me and exposed me to the elements. I immediately wanted to be smothered by his warmth and weight, again, even if it restricted my breathing and prevented me from being able to get up until he did. “I gotta pee, anyway,” Keegan said, sliding out of the much too small bed and waddling out the door and down the hall. I knew his wide shoulders made the narrow passageway leading to the rest of my tiny apartment look even smaller and very claustrophobic. I had watched him make that walk thousands of times – amazed that he wouldn’t have been able to fully extend his arms out sideways unless he accidently punched through drywall, which was always a fear of mine . . . or was it a fantasy. My small place was suddenly filled with what could only be called the sound of a waterfall. Not the trickling sounds of a small stream – more like the deafening pounding of Niagara Falls. Even the guy urinating sounded butch and powerful. And it seemed to last forever. Just when you thought it was ending – at that moment when most guys would be wagging off a few more drops, there’d come another loud steady stream that somehow told you it was a virile hugely muscled man crammed in the tiny bathroom. After what seemed like the same amount of time for a semi-long movie, I’d hear the floorboards complaining about having to support so much weight and then I’d be surrounded, again, with the kind of body warmth that helped me save on my energy bills because I never had to turn on the heat. This time, only a huge arm would be draped over me, but it would still feel like a giant, heavy, folded quilt on my body. “I really could go again,” came the deep sexy familiar voice, that caused the back of my neck to be caressed by his breath as we spooned. “I’m not you, remember? Not all of us can rebound quicker than all of the NBA put together. I also have the early shift tomorrow.” “You work too much.” “Tell that to my creditors,” I replied, pulling his beefy forearm around me tighter, which caused him to squeeze my body hard. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for coming out with me.” “Yeah, it was fun . . . but I’m not sure your friends like me.” “Not this again. Of course, they like you . . . it’s just that they’re still getting to know you. It’s only been a few months. “It’s just that you guys always talk about stuff I know nothing about.” “Well, we have a long history together, so there’s a lot of shared information.” “Yeah, like that friend all of you talked about – the one I don’t know – her name was Marianne something.” “You mean Marianne Williamson?” “Yeah.” “Um . . . she’s not a friend . . . so to speak. She’s running for president.” “You have a friend running for president?” “No, not a friend. She’s just famous and Kyle is like her personal cheerleader or something.” “See, that’s something I should know . . . to be able to join in the conversation. I think your friends find me boring and stupid.” I tried to turn my body to face him, but the weight of his big arm prevented it. I tapped it twice – our little signal for him to release whatever part of his body was making movement impossible. He raised his arms so I could spin around and then it came back down, holding me closer. I looked into his innocent, but serious face. I slid my hand up between us and tapped on a gorgeous bulging mound beside his neck. “What’s the full name of this muscle right here?” “The trapezius muscle and it’s divided into three areas - the upper, middle, and lower fibers – called the upper, middle, and lower traps.” “And what specific exercise, pray tell, makes these things get so huge?” “Well, there’s a lot of debate about that…” “What’s your favorite, honey, cause it’s obviously working?” I said, smiling. “I like power shrugs and deadlifts.” “None of my friends would know any of that. Your expertise is not Marianne Williamson, it’s muscle.” “You just want me for my body,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a forced fake pout. “That’s a huge part of my attraction . . . and by huge, I mean…” “I get the point. Name something else besides my body that you find attractive.” I faked a pained look on my face – as if I couldn’t come up with anything else and the big man squeezed my body hard, making me squeal a little. I suddenly realized that there was some true vulnerability being shown here. My big sweetheart was feeling ‘less than’ and needed some support. I snuggled closer and turned my face up to his. “Tonight, there was a moment when the beer pitchers were almost empty and I could sense everyone looking at their phones, going to the bathroom, or cruising the joint – anything to keep from being the person that noticed we needed more beer. You, however, poured what remained evenly in everyone’s glass without any hesitation and then took the four pitchers to the bar to get refills. You didn’t think twice. You didn’t have this scorecard in your head that was keeping track of who had already done what and who hadn’t. You just saw that more beer was needed and knew how to improve the situation. Your kindness often overwhelms me with a knowledge of how lucky I am to be with you.” I had just answered his question honestly – truly believing he was one of the nicest guys on the planet. But my answer moved him in a way I had not expected. A tear slid from the corner of his eye and dropped to the pillow below. My heart opened even wider for this wonderful man. “Keegan, honey, you are definitely not stupid or boring. Who cares if you know who Marianne Williamson is or not. I love your body, yes, but that is not even close to all the things I love about you. What’s bringing this on?” I double tapped his arm to be released and sat up, crossing my legs to look down at him. I had my hand on his big biceps, stroking him softly. He turned his head to look up at me and another tear slid down the top part of his cheek. “This is usually the beginning of the end. I’ve reached this point in too many relationships to even count – room being made for my toothbrush, being introduced to friends, and even being sent out with the guy’s ATM card and code to get money for him before going to a club. It’s just that nothing’s ever lasted more than a few weeks after this point. The guy’s all end up telling me that the conversations are too limited, I spend too much time at the gym, or – as one guy put it – they don’t want to look like they’re out with a hustler every time we went to dinner. I worry that I don’t know how to make it beyond this point. I worry every day that you’ll get tired of me.” “Hey, Mister Muscles,” I lovingly said the nickname I had given him the first night we met, which, at least, made him briefly smile, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. You never bore me and as for stupidity – remember the first time you took me to a gym. What did I do? Come on, tell me.” “You thought you could bench what I bench.” “And what else?” “You went to pick up the dumbbells I was curling and threw your back out because you couldn’t even lift them a little.” “You had to carry me to the walk-in clinic down the street. If anyone’s making a fool of themselves in this relationship – it’s definitely me. Who’s to say that you won’t get bored with me soon, eh?” “That’ll never happen?” “And why not?” “Cause you give the best head I’ve ever had,” he said, turning slightly red and smiling. “Oh, so you like me only because of my mouth.” “Yes.” I took a pillow and swung it quickly into his face, leaving it there, so all I could see of him was his humongous arm, massive chest, and cobblestone abs. The view still bowled me over – even after all of these months. I heard him saying something under the pillow. I removed it. “And sex with you is better than chocolate cake,” he said, mentioning the only food that would ever tempt him from leaving his strict eating regime. “Now, you’re making ME sound like the hustler.” “You’d be a good one. I remember.” “Thank you . . . I think. What’s brought all of this on, Mister Muscles? Why the sudden fear of this fabulous thing between us not lasting? You’re not one for losing confidence.” “I was in the bathroom tonight, around the corner out of sight at the urinals, and I overheard Kyle and Demetrius talking.” “What did they say?” I asked, knowing already it was going to be something bitchy and unkind. “Kyle wondered how long you were going to continue to slum it with a Neanderthal and then he said he could see in my eyes that I had no idea who Marianne Williamson was.” “Fucking Marianne Williamson! When did she become the barometer for all things concerning relationships. First of all, Mister Muscles, Kyle has wanted me since junior high and doesn’t take quickly to any guy I date. Secondly, you intimidate the hell out of him because of your size and big muscles, and, thirdly, I’m going to kick his ass the next time I see him for saying all of this.” “God, you’re sexy when you defend my honor and talk that way.” “I’m serious, Keegan. He can’t treat you that way and I will tell him.” “Um, no you won’t. I don’t want there to be even more of a strain than there already is between your friends and me. I’ll just have to win them over with my princely charm.” As usual, the big man found a way to help me instantly release anger and tension. I looked down into his eyes and smiled. I lowered my face to give him a long, passionate kiss. I pulled back after a while and we looked at each other – silently. “So, we good. All this is good, now?” I asked, showing him how important it was to me. “Better than good,” he said and then lifted the quilt and sheet to reveal a fully hard ‘Tennessee’ – the nickname I had given his dick because I said it was as long and big as that entire southern state. “Show me again why I like you so much.” My mouth watered a little as ‘Tennessee’ was uncovered even more and two extremely muscled thighs begged to be the support for my small hands as I did what I was truly good at – servicing my big man. ********** “Five hundred dollars.” “Nope.” “Okay. A thousand, but that’s my final offer.” “It’s still no. I have a boyfriend…” “So?” “…and we’re in a monogamous relationship.” “But there’s enough of you to keep four guys happy!” “And I’m only interested in keeping one man happy.” “Then why be a personal trainer? These days, isn’t that just a code word for ‘hustler’?” “Um . . . no, I truly enjoy helping other people get into shape. By the way, are you going to come on to me every time we work out. I might need to start charging you more if I’m going to have to continue fighting off all your advances.” I grabbed the man’s hand, which was suddenly placed on my thigh, and squeezed a little too tightly before pushing it away. He let out a slight yelp and shook out his arm wildly. This was my fifth session with Mr. Groping Hands (names withdrawn to protect the guilty) and he was, again, in rare form. Saying the word ‘boyfriend’ had taken me back to earlier that morning when Chef Marco (okay, chef in training) had literally blown me away – no pun intended – with his unbelievable oral skills. I had never met such a talented mouth. The sensation of what his tongue, throat, lips, and teeth could do was still making my groin area buzz with excitement. Mr. Groping Hands clearly thought my bulging crotch was in response to his non-inspiring advances. This guy was definitely a ‘catch’ – rich, well-built, nicely endowed, and smooth in the way expensive liquor went down, but he wasn’t my Marco. He wasn’t the beautiful man that was able to suck my balls in some miraculous way that could make me not able to prevent myself from exploding in less than a minute. I swear, Marco’s mouth should be listed as one of the . . . what was it . . . five wonders of the world? Six wonders of the world? Neither of those sounded right. “How many wonders of the world are there?” I asked, as I carefully led the man through some sit-ups. “You mean besides you, Keegan.” “Yes, not including me,” I answered, signaling him to take a short rest. “Most scholars say there were seven wonders of the ancient world.” “Seven. I was close,” I said, tapping his stomach to begin again. “How about just letting me blow you in my car, Keegan? I can tell your cock is interested – it keeps bobbing up and down when you touch me.” We were out in the open area of Palisades Park – a hot spot for trainers who didn’t want to see clients in their homes or at the gym. Mr. Groping Hands was a pretty famous director and preferred the anonymity that came with green grass, lots of trees, and a gaze-stealing view of the Pacific Ocean to prevent gawkers. I appreciated his boldness – it was kind of refreshing after all the guys (and gals) that did head games to try and get me into bed. I looked over at his Bentley Flying Spur and then back at his red-from-training-hard face. “What’s the difference between your car and, let’s say, a Honda Civic.” “You’re kidding, right? First of all, kid, it’s the comfort. The Flying Spur is like first class on the world’s biggest airplane while the Civic is like where the dog crates are stored. Secondly, it’s the power and pleasure that comes from sitting behind the wheel of that beauty. And, among many other things, it’s knowing that what you’ve got is a classic – something everybody else wants.” “Well, let’s just say you’re the Civic and my man, Marco, is the Bentley. And you, my friend, are done.” “Ouch, you sure are a buzz kill. What a way to put me in my place.” “You worked hard, today. You know, you really don’t need me. You’ve got a clear understanding of exercise, great form, and a great body. I know it’s not good business, but you are paying for something you don’t really need.” “Are you kidding? You think I’m paying you for your expertise about working out? Buddy, I choose to have you as my trainer so for an hour and a half two days a week I get to look at the kind of perfection that probably inspired Michelangelo. I get to cop a feel or two of the hottest body in the city. I get more fodder from you for private spank time than anything on the great big web could ever offer. I’ll be yanking my chain in my office before you even make it home, Keegan. I hope this Marco fellow knows how lucky he is.” “I’m the lucky one,” I said, winking at the man. “Hey, the two of you wouldn’t be interested in a shared bed, sometime, would you?” “How often do you lend out your Bentley?” “Never.” “I’m the same about my man.” “When the hell did monogamy become so popular again?” he said, collecting his wallet, phone, and other personal items. “Ever since I met Marco.” “I’d like to meet your man, sometime, Keegan. Just for dinner, don’t give me that look. I really mean just a meal and conversation. I’d like to meet the guy that has slayed such a huge and handsome dragon. My offer on helping him get a chef position somewhere still stands.” “Dinner sounds good, I’ll check with Marco and get back to you. Marco always says thank you for the offer of a job, but he wants to make it or break it on his own.” “You two inspire me,” Mr. Groping Hands said as he reached up to latch a hand on my massive pec and squeeze, before walking off. “One more handful to fuel my afternoon release. See you Tuesday, Mr. Universe.” I watched the handsome guy walk to his car. He really was a good catch. He was successful. He was a fully ‘out’ director and producer in Hollywood and that was almost unheard of. His movies had won numerous awards and his sole Oscar was for directing an incredible heart-wrenching independent film about two older gay lovers. He was even liked by other people in the business. All of that, however, didn’t come close to Marco. I pulled out my phone and hit the only ‘favorite’ I had. “Hello, Mister Muscles,” answered the silky voice of my lover. “Bad time?” “Never a bad time for you. I’m just ironing some shirts. How was Mr. Grabby Fingers?” “Mr. Groping Hands was fine. He offered a thousand dollars today and wanted give me a blow job in his Bentley.” “You have such the glamorous life. You know, of course, I have figured out who this man is, even though you are the consummate professional and have never revealed his name.” “I’ll always be able to say I did not tell you. He’d like the three of us to go to dinner sometime. He’d like to behold the stud who has stolen my heart.” “I think he’d be sadly disappointed and baffled as to why you weren’t already fully ensconced in his Malibu mansion.” “Or he’d fall in love with you and steal you away,” I said, only half-joking. “Would his flexed arm surpass the size of yours,” Marco asked, sexily. “Not even close,” I replied. “Then you, my friend, have nothing to worry about.” “Oh, so the first guy you meet that is larger than me is who you’ll dump me for?” “Well, since I’m never going to meet anyone larger than you – and even if that crazy idea could come true – you have nothing to be worried about. Besides, there’s another huge muscle of yours that I’m pretty sure will never be topped by any other mere mortal.” “Speaking of ‘Tennessee,’ he’s definitely screaming for some attention from little Marco.” “Well, since you now have a session with the nameless Mrs. Famous Actress who stars in one of my favorite shows and is married to a world-famous divorce lawyer (no way I could figure that one out), you better calm down before she offers to blow you in whatever fancy car she drives.” “She always rides her bike to sessions. She’s very concerned about the environment.” “Of course, she is. Well, tell ‘Tennessee’ that I will see him in the shower this afternoon before I leave for work. One more thing, Mr. Muscles.” “What’s that, Boo?” “Don’t be mad when you get a call later on.” “What does that mean?” “Just don’t be mad. I’ll see you later. Love you.” And the phone went dead. I stared at it for a few seconds, wondering what Marco meant. I did not have to wait long to find out, however. The phone rang with a number I did not recognize and had not keyed in. “Hello,” I said, cautiously. “Hey, Keegan, it’s Kyle.” My knight in shining armor had not done what I requested. Kyle had been reprimanded and forced to give me a call. I would have to act angry with Marco for a little while this afternoon, but I knew ‘Tennessee’ would be begging for the beautiful man’s mouth - or even more - and would prevent me from sulking for too long. I returned to the upcoming awkward conversation. “Hey Kyle, what’s up?” “Listen, I’ve been thinking that I haven’t started off our relationship on the right foot. I’m pretty protective of Marco and always want what’s best for him. I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I haven’t always been cordial and I was hoping we could, you know, kind of start over and let me make it up to you. If that’s okay . . . with you.” I knew I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer or the brightest bulb on the tree, but I did know a thing or two about men and how to act around them. This was a huge deal for Kyle – to be making this call – and it showed what a good friend he was to Marco. Dating a guy is not a private affair – if you wanted it to last, which I definitely did, you had to accept that you were dating his family and friends, too. You also needed to make sure your boyfriend’s best friend never felt too excluded or shamed. I understood Kyle. I also felt for him, since I had figured out, way before Marco told me, that Kyle had a longtime crush on his best friend. I was an unwanted interruption in their unrequited love affair. I knew how to make things right – or as right as they ever would be, because Kyle would continue to be jealous of me. I would just have to accept that. “Man, Kyle, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve always been cool. I know it’s hard to add a new person to a set group of friends, but you always seemed to go out of your way to include me. There’s no need for you to apologize, but consider it a clean slate if you need to.” I could feel the guy’s smile across the phone waves. He knew I was playing along with the game that he was playing. We both knew each other knew it. We both knew Marco knew we were playing it. But that didn’t take away from the fact that we were doing it. I was giving Kyle the gift of being able to call Marco and tell him everything was good. I empowered Kyle with a secure best friend status and the ability to embrace me just a tad more into the group. He was freeing me to completely be Marco’s boyfriend – holding hands when we were out, talking about intimate stuff around everyone, and even kissing, on occasion. We both were freeing Marco of worry and tension our unnamed battle might have caused. The universe shifted to welcome this new reality. “Okay, then,” Kyle said. “I’m glad. That’s great. I’m really happy you found Marco (we weren’t quite ready to be happy that Marco found me). I’ll see you for drinks tomorrow night, right.” “Yes, you will. And Kyle, thank you,” I replied and it was the most honest thing in the entire conversation – we both knew that, too. “Of course, man. Thank you. See you tomorrow.” “See you.” The phone went quiet and dark. I immediately texted my sole ‘favorite’ saved in the phone as I watched Mrs. Famous Actress biking up the path. The text was short and sweet. “Thanks for defending my honor. ‘Tennessee’ will be expecting extra attention to make up for it.” ************ The text made me long to have ‘Tennessee’ in my mouth right at that moment – or some other orifice of pleasure. My entire being missed the hugeness of Keegan – all of his hugeness – every second he wasn’t touching me. I knew that this feeling was part of the honeymoon period of a relationship, but I also knew it was mostly and specifically to do with how much the big man turned me on. My face only came up to his nipples – a convenient spot for my mouth – and I had a feeling the most accurate ratio would have been three and a half of my bodies equaled his one. I loved muscles – all of my friends knew this – but no one, especially me, would have anticipated the giant mountain of sinew that now shared a bed with me three, four, or – sometimes – seven days a week. We made sure we split our time between both of our places – just to be fair. I was also still amazed he didn’t go crazy in my small place – his enormous frame almost completely filling up any room he was in. His place was bigger, more expensive, and nicer – but Keegan always seemed happy to be at my place, too. He said he just wanted to be wherever I was. “This moment calls for Ms. Ross, the boss,” I said – to no one - as I found the song ‘I Want Muscles’ and blared it in my apartment. I had one more shirt to iron, but dancing around my living room took precedence. I thought about calling Kyle to tell him thank you, but that wasn’t how this worked. He needed to think I was still a little unhappy with how he had been treating my new gorgeous, wonderful, mammoth boyfriend. Kyle had heard in my voice the unspoken ultimatum that if I was forced to choose, I’d go with Keegan. It had been the first time ever I had insinuated this, we both felt that big elephant in the room. It scared each of us – a lot – and for the first time in our lives the conversation on the phone had faltered, even stopped for a few seconds. Kyle had been my best friend ever since he had scared the crap out of a bully on the playground in seventh grade by screaming louder than a police siren to alert teachers of a potential incident. The bully never bothered me again and Kyle and I became lifelong friends. We came out to each other in high school and he confessed his love for me in college. Our friendship was cemented even more when we worked through that, me finally letting him know I was drawn to big men. He first thought I meant I was a chub chaser, but then I had told him I liked muscles. We watched each other botch up a few serious relationships and more than a few one-night stands. Then we became locked into the scene in Los Angeles – he, as a new financial planner at his dad’s firm, and me, as one of only twenty-five people chosen to attend a posh three-year culinary school. He was presently working his way up the corporate ladder and I had graduated top of my class and was working hard as a sous chef at a prestigious restaurant. To help make ends meet I had taken a second job delivering nutritious homemade meals to the great people of Los Angeles who had extra money to burn. “Get that last shirt done,” I said to myself when Ms. Ross had finished singing about men’s bodies. A big mistake – one that cost me the delivery job – had changed my life forever, just a little over eleven months ago. I had been sent to one of those nice downtown high rises with a meal which could have been a late lunch or an early dinner depending on whomever had ordered it. I wasn’t paying attention – what was new – and got off on the wrong floor because someone had pushed the call button for the elevator but went back into their place to probably retrieve a forgotten item. I assumed it was the floor I needed when the doors opened and no one was there. I went down the hall and mistook 4-K for apartment 5-K. Meanwhile – only to find out later – a broken-hearted bodybuilder/personal trainer named Keegan Robinson was going through a fully acceptable slutty stage after a very hard break up and had made an afternoon booty call to help him relieve some sexual tension before he went to the gym to workout. Keegan lived in apartment 4-K. When he opened the door to find this cute guy standing there with earphones on jamming to some tunes, he was pleasantly surprised by how lucky he was to get such a wholesome looking hookup. He had pulled me into the apartment so quickly that I didn’t really have time to say anything. “Hey bud, sorry to be so direct, but I just really need to get off before I go and do this intense two-hour workout. You don’t mind if I pay you full price to just suck me off right here, do you? I’d really appreciate it.” I was still reeling from the fact that this smooth-faced Hercules had answered the door. I had never been this close to someone that size. I had a muscle fetish, for sure, but all of my big body encounters didn’t come close to matching the mountain range of bulges standing there in a tank-top and basketball shorts. My music was blaring, so I hadn’t heard what the giant had said, but when he pulled down his shorts to reveal the longest and thickest and most juicy-looking sausage of my entire life – making it clear he wanted a blowjob – I didn’t miss a beat. I dropped the bag of gourmet food, dropped to my knees, and then dropped that mammoth thing down my throat so quickly you would have thought I was a professional. Every guy I had ever slept with – and it was quite a few – had always said I was the best cocksucker he had ever met. Even if the guy ended up dumping me he always ended with, “I’m going to so miss that mouth of yours.” I have no idea why I was so good. Maybe it was because I just imagined what I would like when I did it. Or maybe it was just because I loved sucking so much. Either way, the stars were aligned that afternoon because my skills and the desire to be really good because of the hulking body I was getting to blow enabled me to give the bodybuilder the kind of pleasure he had never known before. I made him cum so hard he threw his body into a terrifying, but astounding most muscular pose as he spewed – causing me to swallow even harder, which – in turn – made him shoot a quick second round. The big man fell to his knees, his cock pulling from my mouth and his big arms engulfing me. “Fuuuuuuckkkk, what in the hell was that?” he said loudly between heavy breaths and trying to steady his still-swaying huge body. I pulled out my earphones and was about to ask what he said, when there was a knock on the door. The giant rose to his feet, still a little unsteady, and pulled up his shorts as he opened the door. A definite slutty player stood there, kind of fake-smiling – which turned into a real smile when he saw the behemoth that had called. I’m sure the hustler was super thankful it was some huge Adonis instead of a balding middle-aged married man. “Sup, Thor,” the hustler said, “I’m here to rock your world.” The bodybuilder turned to look at me, catching sight of the food bag at the same time. There was a stack of bills on a table by the door. The big man grabbed these and the bag at the same time. He looked at the address on the slip stapled to the carrier. He turned to slutty hustler and handed him the bag and money. “Changed my mind, dude. Something better unexpectedly came along. Here’s your money, though, and do you mind delivering this one floor up to 5-K. Thanks a lot,” said the muscled perfection and then he quickly closed the door. Turning to me he added, “Can you do that again?” Needless to say, Keegan never made it to the gym that evening. The hustler didn’t deliver the food, so I was fired by text when I wouldn’t answer my phone. I had been too busy, however, swallowing four big loads of the bodybuilder’s swimmers within a three-hour period. I had never known a guy that could produce so much semen so quickly. He was some kind of sexual superman. He kept saying each orgasm was more powerful than the last and claimed that I had some kind of oral magical powers. He screamed louder with each ejaculation and I was sure his neighbors thought he was being murdered. After blowing him in the kitchen, living room and bedroom his body was so jacked he said it equaled the two-hour workout he had missed. He ordered Chinese food and we ate it totally nude on his living room floor. After exploding the fourth time, he pulled me onto his humongous body and we kissed for the first time. Basically, my mouth had been filled with his cock for three hours straight and the guy was finally slightly spent, and ready to get to know me. “Fucking tell me your single . . . um, oh fuck, what’s your name?” “I’m Marco,” I said, holding out my hand to him as I rested my chin on his massive chest. “I’m Keegan.” “Nice to meet you, Keegan. You have the hottest body I’ve ever seen.” “And you, my friend, have the hottest mouth I’ve ever known. Please fucking tell me you are single, Marco . . . cause I’m in love.” “If only it were that simple,” I laughed, and pulled away, but his strong hands grabbed the sides of my head and turned my gaze back to his. “It is that simple, Marco.” I could tell he was serious. My instincts told me this was one of the purest moments of my adult life – so far. I knew I could let the cynical side of me take control and ruin the moment, but feeling the man’s hard body beneath mine and his stronger than strong grip on my head made me join him in his joyous world for a little while – even if it was just a fantasy. “I’m very single, Keegan. I’m also into muscle,” I added, internally saying ‘what the hell’ and choosing to be brutally honest. “That’s very cool, because I have a lot of that,” he said, smiling. “I noticed,” I replied. “Want me to pose for you?” “That would be awesome. I’ll repay you by sucking you off, again.” The big man easily tossed me off his body and was standing beside the bed before I even finished my sentence. He then threw his body into the kind of routine that usually made me spew uncontrollably when I watched bodybuilding competitions online. This time, however, I could reach out and touch the real thing as I watched – which seemed to make him happy, too. Soon, Keegan was covered in sweat and insanely pumped. “Keep posing,” I ordered, as I took his big cock in my mouth. When I started to have strong feelings for a guy – authentic feelings – my blowjobs actually increased in their power to turn the guy on. I guess it had to do with the fact that I knew this was something real and not just a quickie. I had already started to fall for this big man. I could feel it. Yes, we didn’t know each other and, yes, our meeting had been a big mistake, but something magical was happening between us. His love of my mouth and my love of his muscles were leading to something much more important – something much deeper. He hit a double biceps power pose and I swallowed his tool hard, causing him to buck back and forth with the strongest blast of the evening. He held the flex through the entire orgasm and then collapsed on me when his cock was completely empty. I laughed a little when the huge man was sound asleep in seconds. I guess even superman had a limit when it came to ejaculations. I somehow freed my body from his and started exploring the apartment as Keegan got some much-needed post-sex sleep. The trip around his apartment told me a lot about him – he wasn’t a reader (there were no books, only bodybuilding magazines), he was clearly out to his family (pictures of him kissing past boyfriends while with parents), he had one sister and one brother, he won lots of bodybuilding contests (a lot of first place trophies and medals), he must have been a pretty well-known personal trainer (pictures of him training lots of famous people), and he was well-liked (lots of cards and notes from people telling him how great he was). I also learned about Greg – some guy that had clearly broken up with him recently (note apologizing and saying goodbye and torn pictures of a trip together in the trash can). When I returned to the bedroom I took advantage of his passed-out state and ran my hands over every part of his hard, muscled body. I figured I might never get the chance again, so I should take the opportunity now. As my hands rubbed his perfect pecs, his hands came up and grabbed my head again. He led my face to his nipple and I used my expert sucking skills there, too. Soon I had him moaning like a wild beast. He pulled my head away, so we could, again, gaze at each other. “Stay the night,” he said. “On one condition, Mr. Muscles,” I said, using the future nickname for the first time. “Name it and it’s yours.” “Fuck me. My ass is getting jealous of all the attention you’ve given my mouth.” He flexed his right arm hard as his response. I climbed on top of him *********** Working out in the park – the sun, the breeze, the sound of the ocean – only seemed to make me hornier than a squadron of frat boys. The park and the thought of Marco’s mouth, ass, face, lips, earlobes, balls, kneecaps, toenails – just all of him, really, just did something to me. We’d been together for more than eleven months and I never stopped thinking about him. I kept expecting to stop craving him so much – eventually – but my desire only seemed to increase. I still couldn’t believe he didn’t hate me for thinking he was my rent boy showing up for a little afternoon delight. He had dropped to his knees so quickly that day and given me the kind of mind-altering orgasm you only heard about in fairy tales or sex stories. My legs, which are insanely big and quite powerful had become like liquid as I fell to the floor – a wiped out mess of a man. When I asked if he could do that again, I had truly expected we’d have another round and then I’d be off to the gym and he’d go try to get his delivery job back. I didn’t anticipate my mind would be altered over and over again every time he blew me that night. I finally had just fallen asleep, even my big body had its limits. I felt a little bad when I woke up, but then I found him caressing my entire body and my tool had become fully erect, again. He then asked me to fuck him and I quickly learned his ass gave his mouth some serious competition. Almost a year later I am still trying to decide which part of him gave me more pleasure. “See you next week,” I called out to the waving Mrs. Famous Actress as she rode away on her bike. I started gathering all the equipment I used for working out into the big bag that Marco could never budge when I left it in the path we had to travel from one room to another in my apartment. He had figured out that I did it on purpose so I could watch him unsuccessfully try and move it and then finally have to call me to do it. I’d pound on my chest and say ‘you weak, me strong’ before moving it with one hand. Sometimes, I then throw him over my shoulder and take him to the bedroom to show him just how strong a certain part of me was. That first night, before I plowed him, it suddenly dawned on me that he had blown me four times, but I had never gotten him off. I was such a self-absorbed asshole, but it was his fault for being so awesome at blowjobs. I quickly apologized for overlooking his sexual needs. He looked confused, then laughed, and explained he had gotten off every time I had cum. My baffled look amused him and he said making a big guy like me explode gave him much pleasure and he rocked out a load in unison with my orgasms. I had just been too wrecked each time to notice. I found this one of the most erotic things I had ever heard, which only fueled the plowing I gave to his ass even more. When I saw that gorgeous man throw his head back, moaning in ecstasy that first time I fucked him you would have thought I had been given the biggest and best gift in the world, for that’s how I felt. I suddenly understood how blowing me thrilled him so much. Making him scream with pleasure made me explode, as well. We were joined by some kind of inexplicable force that I knew – even that first night together – would never be broken. My phone buzzed and I saw a text which read, ‘I need my Tennessee.’ When Marco greeted me at the door totally nude, which happened a lot, I would so quickly shoot hard that I’d actually feel dizzy and like I might pass out. Today, to be greeted that way, and to immediately smell the wonderful aroma of his famous chicken parmigiana was almost too much to handle – even for a big man like me. Before the click of the door shutting echoed through his small apartment, the guy was on his knees, had ‘Tennessee’ fully unclothed, and was making my love for him blossom even more deeply than it already was. I was worn out from a day of clients, but that man’s lips, that man’s warm mouth, that guy’s deep throat could revive me like one of those electric shock thingies they sometimes put on your chest and yell ‘clear.’ He was some kind of magical Hoover made specifically for my penis. His oral skills made me turn into some kind of wild superman. He made me feel powerful, manly, and able to do anything in the world. My entire body would shoot tense and hard, as if I was showing off on stage or in the bedroom for hundreds of admirers. Sucking me off when I came in was equal to a kiss on the lips to Marco and that was more than okay with me. I knew it was pleasing him as much as it was me, so that made it even better. A couple of minutes later, I’d be leaning against the wall, my chest heaving up and down – unable to move for a few minutes – while he retrieved paper towels to clean up the mess he made on the hardwood floor. “God . . . I . . . wish . . . I . . . knew . . . how . . . you . . . do . . . that,” I stammered between breaths. “It’s all because of the magnificent temple I’m kneeling before. It’s all because of ‘Tennessee’,” he said, smiling and finally kissing me hello. “What’s that I smell?” I asked, as my heartrate returned to normal. “Chicken parmigiana.” “But I thought you had to work?” “Susan called yesterday to see if we could change shifts. I thought I’d surprise you.” “You little gorgeous sneak! Does this mean I get to have numerous orgasms tonight?” “It does indeed, Mr. Muscles.” “Hey, wait a minute. I just remembered I’m mad at you. Give me my cum back. I wasn’t going to give into my urges so quickly. I wanted to punish you for calling Kyle.” “It’s fine for you to be mad, but no one makes my big man feel small,” he said and my heart suddenly thumped harder. “Go sit down in the living room, Mr. Angry Pants, and I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” I gave him a mean face and walked down the hall. The fragrance hit me before I even got to the back room. When I stepped around the corner I beheld a sight that instantly brought tears to my eyes and made my shoulder convulse as I started to blubber. Every possible empty spot in the room was covered in red roses. The floor, the sofa, the chairs, the tables – everywhere. There were vases with roses, boxes with roses, and rose petals strewn everywhere. Through the water filling my eyes I saw a card sitting on a small table in the center of the room. In bold letters it said ‘open me’ on the front. I knelt down and tore open the envelope. It was a handmade card in the shape of a heart. I opened it and written inside it said ‘turn around.’ In my overwhelmed, confused state I simply did what the card told me to do. There, kneeling behind me, was a now clothed boyfriend holding open a small box with a beautiful man-sized band inside of it. I convulsed and blubbered more – like a baby. “As I said last night, Mr. Muscles. I’m not going anywhere. There won’t be a point where I say you bore me or that I want something else. I only want you. Forever. And ever. Amen. Keegan Andrew Robinson, will you please do me the great honor of becoming my husband so I can blow you every day for the rest of my life.” I had to fall back and sit on the floor I was sobbing so hard. I was a mighty oak of a man, someone who won bodybuilding contests and powerlifting competitions. I could make women and men cream in their pants with just a smile or a flex. I lifted more weight than ninety-nine percent of the men in my gym. I intimidated the hell out of powerful businessmen and bullies, alike. But at that moment, at that exact specific second, I became a baby – crying with the kind of joy that can burst a heart. I started nodding my head up and down even as the tears fell on the rose petals around me. “Yes. Yes. A lifetime of yesses,” I forced my mouth to say as I welcomed Marco into my open arms and squeezed him with way too much strength. “Whoa, Mr. Muscles, careful, there, don’t break me before you own me!” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world. I love you, Marco. I love you so much.” “I love you, Keegan. Let’s put this ring on that big finger.” I sat there, with my other hand up to my mouth like some Victorian heroine beholding the love of her life naked for the first time. I watched as the man I loved – the man I would always love – slid a perfect ring on my finger. I held up my hand and started to cry again. Marco, put his palm against my cheek and just smiled at me. “I’m the luckiest guy I know,” he said, softly, and I cried more. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but you have to call your parents. I promised we would right after I – hopefully – got a yes. Your father actually said he’d give me all of his money if you said no – he was that sure of your answer. Maybe we should tell him you said no, just to get the money.” “You talked to my parents about this?” I said, shocked. “I flew up to see them a month ago – remember when you were in Vegas for that photo shoot. Well, I went up there to ask them if I could ask you for your hand in marriage. Your mother cried and your father opened a bottle of champagne that I think probably cost more than I’ve ever made in a year. I had to get their blessing, first. Your sister asked when we would have children – she said she hoped us having kids would get your parents off her back. Your brother started rambling on that it was time for me to start thinking about my portfolio, but then he simply said he’d be honored to have me as a brother-in-law. It actually made me weepy. Not like you, of course, but I still got a little emotional.” “You are such a hopeless romantic,” I said, hugging him tightly again, but not too tightly. “By the way, we also have another reason to celebrate – although it pales in comparison to this.” “What’s that,” I asked. “Well, it’s not definite yet, because you have to weigh in on the decision. But, if you say yes and I say yes, you’re looking at the new head chef at Grigio.” “What? Are you fucking with me right now?” “Nope, it’s true. I could be a real chef by the time we’re husband and husband.” “That is the best news ever . . . well, second to this,” I said pointing at the ring. “Of course, you should say yes. It’s what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be amazing.” “It’ll be a lot of hours as I learn the ropes, though. I just want us to be sure.” “Stop it, we’re sure. We're more than sure. We’ll make it work. We’ll figure out how to sneak in enough blowjobs to keep us both happy. Now, this is definitely the happiest day of my life. I am going to be married to a chef. Chef Marco. Wow, that sounds hot.” “Call your parents and I’ll finish getting dinner ready,” Marco said, turning his head up so we could kiss deeply. “Um . . . ‘Tennessee’ is ready to go again if both of those things can wait.”
  24. Mikeytron

    My Best Friend's Muscles

    My Best Friend's Muscles by Mikeytron I posted this story on metabods over the last few weeks, but I felt I should share it here as well. You can check it out over there if you'd like, as well as several of my other stories - M Part One I posted the human trial to our work Slack expecting the guys to go nuts when they saw it. After all, the results were, in a word, stunning. I didn’t think anyone would react right away, though. It was 2:11 in the morning when I finished preparing the report, sitting in my dark basement, the unhealthy glow of my computer screen the only light. Surely I was the only one awake. I was wrong, though. The channel blew up almost instantly. I guess we’re all nightowls. It would fit the stereotype. “Holy fuck, Rob, these are beyond my wildest dreams,” typed Eli. “Real sci fi shit.” “You sure you didn’t just give all these guys tren instead?” typed Anderson. “No way, these results are better than tren,” Eli replied. “Guys I’m so excited, we’re gonna make a hundred million bucks,” typed Hakan. “Fuck that man, we’re gonna make the biggest bodybuilders the world has ever seen,” typed Matteo. “Haha, you’re always thinking with your dick,” Eli replied to Matteo. “Tell me you’re not hard as a rock right now,” Matteo replied to Eli. “I’m dripping,” Eli replied, with a tongue-sticking-out emoji. You could say ours was not the typical workplace. We don’t technically have a team leader, but the role kind of fell to me, and I knew I had to reel in the others before their excitement got out of hand. Keep their eyes on the prize. They were like puppies, sometimes. Geeky, muscle-obsessed, scientifically brilliant gay puppies. “Settle down everyone,” I typed. “Go jack off and get some sleep, tomorrow we’ve got to plan how to sell this.” “You’re no fun,” Matteo replied with a gif of a cartoon character dramatically weeping. “@everyone Brunch on my rooftop, 11 am. Go get your beauty sleep ladies” Hakan replied. I closed Slack with a smile. I fully intended to take the first half of my own advice. It was definitely wank o’clock. But I had no idea how I’d sleep at all, afterward. This was one of the most exciting moments of my life. We had actually done it. I glanced through the PDF of the results one last time, already painfully erect, leaking pre as I read. 16 week trial. Control group of 25 men, following a workout routine designed for hypertrophy, eating an identical diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 5.7 lbs. Group A, 25 men, taking 100 mcg of the compound daily, following the same workout routine, the same diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 20.1 lbs. Group B, 25 men, taking 200 mcg of the compound daily, same workout, same diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 31.6 lbs. One man in Group B had added 42 lbs of muscle. In a little less than four months. Fuck. I couldn’t help it. Knowing my teammates were likely doing the exact same, I slipped my underwear down, my hard cock bobbing proudly, a pearl of precum glistening in the blue light of the computer screen. I jerked off to the PDF. There weren’t any pictures, just data tables and graphs, but it was more than enough. My thoughts swirling over what we were about to unleash on the world. * Like I said, there are five of us working on this project. It’s too long and too boring to tell how we all got in touch with each other, but we’re all gay, we’re all friends, we all work in biotech or medical research, and we all have a thing for muscle. Not just a little muscle. Not just a little thing. We’re all size and growth fetishists of the most extreme bent. As for our little venture… It started as a side project, something we kept under wraps. It began as empty talk in our group chat, how we wished we could be a team of muscle growth scientists with a stable of ever-growing bodybuilders who we could enjoy at our leisure. It was a running gag for a bit, talking about our muscle growth lab/dungeon. Then the talk took a more definite shape over cocktails one fateful Friday night. The various things we were working on, research papers we had fortuitously just read, some inventive lateral thinking, a few productive what-ifs…. We did the modeling. It looked promising. Then the pandemic hit, and, well… we decided to go for it. Synthesize the compound and see if it works the way the computer says it will. We had so much time on our hands, why not moonlight as a cabal of gay mad scientists in Anderson’s garage or Matteo’s basement? A little borrowed equipment here, a few vials of grey market research compounds there… The theoretical work was already done. Why not see what it does in vivo? The first tests on rodents showed such shocking results, we knew we couldn’t stop there. That’s where I kind of fell into the leadership role. I took care of the paperwork establishing our company. I found the investors to get us off the ground. I filed the patent paperwork. And I set up the human trials. Going around local gyms, recruiting men willing to inject an experimental chemical if it meant they might get bigger. And now here we were, more than a year later, having successfully captured lightning in a bottle. We had an entirely novel compound that induced extreme hypertrophy in a high testosterone environment. It wasn’t difficult to synthesize. It wasn’t difficult to administer. It seemed to have no significant negative side effects. And now we just had to sell it. * “I’ve got the perfect idea,” Matteo said, his dark eyes sparkling. He always looked most adorable when he was enthused about something. We first met on Scruff a few years back, slowly revealing the full extent of our muscle growth fetish to each other over DMs. We met, we fucked like rabbits for about two weeks, and then smoothly transitioned into being friends, like you do. “Yeah?” I responded. The four of us were sitting around a table on the roof of Hakan’s downtown Toronto condo, waiting for our host to return. It was a beautiful summer day. “You’ll love it. We do one last trial.” He could see my face souring, he knew I wanted to launch as soon as we could. “Wait, listen. One last trial, each of us asks our favourite bodybuilder to take our compound for 10 weeks and then we use before and after pics for an advertising blitz. We’ll launch at the end of the 10 weeks so we’ll have plenty of work to do. But the impact from instagram alone would be unreal. Regan Grimes adds 35 lbs of raw muscle and he did it all thanks to, uh… whatever we’re calling this.” “Yeah, Rob, what ARE we calling this?” Hakan, the fifth member of our group, interjected as he approached the table bearing a tray of fizzing champagne flutes and the half-empty bottle. He always had a flair. “Well, why don’t we each come up with our best idea for a name and then have a secret vote,” I suggested, accepting the glass Hakan handed me. “Pfft,” Anderson said, taking a glass. “Everyone will just vote for their own suggestion.” “So ask all the guys from the trial to vote on it too, whatever, it’s a free focus group.” Eli waved his hand dismissively before grabbing his glass. “You’re all ignoring Matteo’s frankly excellent idea.” “What’s your idea?” Hakan asked, handing Matteo the penultimate glass before taking the last for himself. “That we recruit five bodybuilders to be our final guinea pigs and our first spokes-brutes.” Hakan settled into his seat, compressed his lips as if considering. “I like it. Dibs on Iain.” “I already called dibs on Regan, and since it’s my idea I get double-dibs,” Matteo quickly added. “I want Antoine,” Eli added. “If we’re keeping it Canadian.” Anderson gestured imperiously. “You are all such predictable queens.” “Well, what super-heavyweight do you want to sponsor, since you’ve just got to be the iconoclast?” “Joe Seeman.” “Who?” Blank looks from the other guys, although I recognized the name. “And you call yourself a muscle fetishist! Coach Little Joe on Instagram,” Anderson replied with the air of an art snob having to identify Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” to a room full of ignorant tourists. “Ooooh, yeah, him, he WOULD be really hot with another 30 or 40 lbs of muscle on him.” “What about you, Rob?” All eyes turned to me. I looked around at the guys, their faces shining like kids writing their Christmas wish lists. Derek Lunsford? Hunter Labrada? Nick Walker? Names flickered through my mind, a whirlwind of visual memories, thousands of nights spent with my cock in my hand, scrolling through Instagram and Tumblr and Twitter, gorging my fevered brain on muscle, more muscle, more muscle, more muscle… who would I gift this magic elixir to? What bulging skin-straining roid-freak, already existing at the current limit of muscular possibility, did I want to explode with another few dozen pounds of raw beef? “I need some time to think about it,” I said, but I was lying. I knew exactly who I wanted to blow up. “Anyway,” I said, raising my champagne flute. “Cheers, guys. To muscle. To us.” “Let’s make some monsters!” Matteo exclaimed as he clinked his glass against mine, and we all drank to that.
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