The Mulligan

[Bjort]

Howdy all,

I am a total noob here after lurking around muscle growth sites for two decades at least (Jeeez, has it really been that long?)  Here is my first attempt at a story y'all might like.  Cheers and criticisims are most welcome!

I must give a shout out to Arpeejay for reading this and giving me enthusiastic support.  He was one of the first out muscle junkies I ever came across all those years ago.  His stories and his willingness to post about his musclelust and life in general have meant a great deal to me, even though I did not have the balls to even email him until a few days ago.  I am such a fanboy!  Cheers and much gratitude!

 

The Mulligan

 

By Bjort

 

I am a middle aged closeted fat guy with a muscle fixation—a fixation which I have pursued only in the recesses of my mind for many years.  For a long time I thought I was alone in this obsession with muscle men and bodybuilders.  Then along came the internet in all of its infinite variety.  I discovered that many gay men like me yearn for and lust after muscle.  I found this a comfort and also a source of new stimulus for my internal sexual fantasy life.  I did not have the courage or the means to pursue my muscle dreams anywhere beyond the fantasy stage, but discovering this community of muscle junkies at least allowed me to completely come out to myself.  Having some talent at writing, I also began to write muscle related gay erotic fiction.  Once I got up the nerve to post some of this writing, I received positive feedback for my efforts.  At times this praise would come in the form of private email correspondence which evolved into internet friendships.  This is the story of one of those friendships.

 

I met Max online when he emailed me some comments and praise for a story called “The Water Fountain”.  It was, I thought, a fairly main stream effort about a chance encounter between a young muscle wannabe and an older bodybuilder stud at the drinking fountain of the local YMCA.  This chance meeting results in the older stud taking the young wannabe under his wing and mentoring him.  The story goes on to involve the wannabe becoming a muscle stud himself and his mentor’s partner and lover.  They eventually end up as a pair of champion bodybuilders and the toast of the gay muscle scene.  Pretty standard muscle fantasy stuff--but Max particularly liked the perspective I used relating the story from inside the character's head.  He was also keen to know if it was in any way based in my own experience.

 

Over the next six months we struck up a lively and enjoyable internet friendship.  Max told me he was an out of the closet gay bodybuilder who had made quite a bit of dough.  I was slightly skeptical of this claim and told him I was a big fat broke closeted slob.  Usually this is enough to put most correspondents right off, but Max just sent back an LOL!  He told me that it did a good deal to explain the mentor fantasy idea in my stories.  He came back to the water fountain story from time to time.  I eventually confessed that it was all fantasy, save the internal feelings of the wannabe and his first realization that he was gay and into muscle.  These, I told him, were based on my own experience.

 

Max reacted a bit more enthusiastically that I expected to this revelation.  He immediately suggested that we meet in person to talk about this some more.  We had been emailing and talking on the phone for a good long while and I was fairly sure he was legit and telling me the truth about himself.  Nevertheless I found it a bit odd that he would get so excited about this.  He called me a while later to suggest that I meet him at his “place” in the mountains for the weekend.  He was there “working on some stuff” and summer was the best time to be in the high country.  I agreed and got directions from him.  I figured that if it got weird in any way I could just bail.  I was sure to let my sisters and several friends know where I was going and when I would be back.

 

I took Friday off and drove into the mountains.  It was a beautiful summer day and I enjoyed the drive very much.  Toward late afternoon I found the dirt road leading off of the state highway that Max had told me to take.  It wound through lush alpine meadows and tall stands of evergreens--rising steadily and branching in several places.  I did not see another vehicle for many miles and eventually came to a metal gate with a key pad and a call box.  Max had given me a code to use and after I tapped it in the gate swung open automatically.  The driveway was much longer than I expected, winding gently down through thick pine woods.  Eventually I turned a corner and emerged along the shore of a pristine azure blue alpine lake.  It was a gorgeous sight with the late afternoon sun glinting on the water and snow capped high peaks rising on the far side. I drove a bit further and came to a meadow that ran down to the edge of the lake.  There were several buildings scattered around the perimeter of the meadow.  I followed the drive toward the largest of these which turned out to be a large log and stone lodge.

 

I got out of the truck, grabbing my bag as I went.  I was more than a bit nervous as I approached the front door, which I found slightly ajar.  There was a note taped to the wrought iron latch which said:

 

Welcome!

 

I am finishing up some slightly touchy work in the shop.  Come on in and relax.  Your room is the first down the hall to your right.  Unpack and freshen up.  The bar is in the living room straight ahead of you so make yourself a drink when you are ready for one and I will be back up soon.

 

Cheers, Max

 

I walked in and looked around.  It was everything a mountain chalet should be.  Lots of stone and pine and leather and wrought iron fixtures like the door latch.  I made my way down the hall to my right and turned into a spacious bed room with a massive log bed, thick Persian rugs, and a sitting area with leather chairs and a work desk.  The room was dominated by a large granite fire place.  There was an equally capacious bathroom with a large glass and stone shower enclosure and what looked to be a built in Jacuzzi.  Through a set of French doors I could see a porch overlooking the lake.  It was wonderful!

 

I quickly washed the road grime from my face and hands and changed into a fresh shirt and a flannel over shirt as it was getting a bit cool out. I ran a brush through my brown curly hair and my beard.  I was still quite nervous about meeting Max.  I had no idea what to expect but thought that a drink might help steady me a bit.  I went into the living room and poured myself a stiff one.  I was greeted by another stunning view as I made my way out onto a stone terrace.  The sun was now sinking toward the mountains on the opposite shore of the lake and the clouds overhead were colored in a beautiful array of red, gold and purple against a dazzling deep blue sky.  The lake sparkled with streaks of gold and silver as a gentle late afternoon breeze riffled across the water.  I leaned on the terrace railing drinking in this glorious scenery and took a sip of my drink.  As I stood there feeling the very fine whiskey spreading warmth out from my gut, the tension and nervousness begin to fade.   

 

I eased into a reverie of peaceful scenery and excellent hooch, growing more oblivious to anything else until, as if out of no where, a very sexy baritone voice located somewhere just to the rear of my right ear said “Brilliant sight isn’t it?”  I gave a bit of a start, but managed not to spill my drink as I turned around to catch a sight every bit as stunning as the sunset.  Max had moved up behind me with no apparent sound and I found myself confronted by a muscle junkie’s living wet dream.  He was only a bit taller than me but any similarity ended there.  He had the, square-jawed face of a comic book hero  His eyes were as blue and deep as the mountain sky and were screened behind wire rimmed glasses.  These just added to his sex appeal!  I drew in an admiring breath as I contemplated spending a life time swimming in the blue of those eyes.  The sun glinted off his beautiful long golden pony tail  and close cropped beard as he stood there legs, slightly apart and hands out stretched in greeting—a magnificent muscle stud!  Thor lives!

 

He was wearing a white polo shirt that seemed to have been painted onto his torso.  Each wondrous bulge and hard curve of his deep chest, wide lats, and mounded shoulders were highlighted.  His triceps and biceps almost exploded out of the short sleeves.  You could clearly make out individual abdominals as his shirt tapered down to intersect with a worn and very tight pair of jeans that hugged his mighty legs like a scared child clinging to its mother.  His narrow waist was cinched with a wide dark brown leather belt with a lightning bolt shaped gold buckle that pointed at what looked to be a very full pic-i-nick basket indeed!

 

Stunned by this vision of total manliness, I sputtered a bit and held out my free hand toward his. “Sure is!” I said in a golly-gee kind of way that made me want to smack myself with a blunt object.  He took it all in stride, breaking into a wide grin and grasping my hand firmly in his.  “It’s great to meet you.  I love you writing so much I just had to get you up here for some talk and possibly some inspiration.”  He pointed out at the view showing a massive bi and tri combo connected to a beautifully muscled forearm sprinkled with a dusting of golden hairs.  I certainly knew which view was going to inspire me and I had to resist the urge to reach out and give his bicep a squeeze.  “It’s a stunning spot.  Thanks for inviting me Max.” was all I said.

 

We chatted for a bit while we watched the sunset and I tried not to ogle him too flagrantly.  After I had relaxed a bit he went and fired up the outdoor grill, asking “I hope you like steak with roasted corn on the cob?”   “Nothing better” I replied finishing off my whiskey.  “Excellent!” he exclaimed in textbook Bill ‘n Ted accent.  “Party on, dude!” I ritually replied getting another 10,000 watt smile from him.  “Tell you what” he said, “I’ll grab the grub and you can pick out the wine.”  “Deal!” I said and was treated to the finest bubble butt display I had ever seen as I followed him inside.  He pointed me toward a wine cupboard as well stocked as I had ever seen.  I picked out a pinot noir I recognized as a fine vintage and uncorked it to allow it to breathe.

 

We ate and talked and drank wine as the sun finished setting into the lake.  We talked about a wide range of things and I began to relax a bit more.  We covered baseball, politics, and movies--finding that we shared many tastes and interests.  Comic books were also a passion of his and it was no surprise to find that the Mighty Thor was his favorite.  The conversation eventually moved into personal history.  It seems that Max was a true science whiz and made an obscene pile of dough in the dot com boom.  He retired when he was still in his 20s to pursue his own muscle fantasies and to indulge his interests in pure physics.  I had little idea what he was on about when it came to physics theory and the time-space continuum, but I could see the results of his determination to become a as much like a comic book hero as he could.  I did not doubt his resolve to succeed in any area!  I was falling hard for this super stud, but was absolutely petrified to make any sort of move or indication.  Max had been very friendly and a fine host, yes, but it was clear that he was just as much a muscle freak as I was.  I was sure that he  would be just as put off by a giant fat slob like me as I would be.  I was simply happy to breathe the same air as this walking wet dream and certainly did not want to do anything stupid to scare him off.

 

After dinner we washed up the dishes and then moved into the living room.  Over a fine glass of port the topic of conversation finally came around to my writing.  Max spoke about how much he liked what I had written and how he wanted more of my own insights into muscle.  He particularly wanted me to write down the non-fictional elements from my own past that I had used as a premise in the story he liked so much.

 

“Listen, my physics work at a very critical stage right now and I am going to have to get back at it shortly.  There is a computer terminal in your room.  Why don’t you write up your memories from the Water Fountain episode tonight before you go to sleep?  Put in all the detail you can and then save it on the shared drive.  That way I can read it later and we can talk about it some more tomorrow.”

 

I was slightly disappointed that he could not stay for more talk right then, but agreed immediately.  “Excellent!” he exclaimed in that sexy baritone that was a bit louder and more excited than I expected.  He grabbed my arm in an iron grip and, with seemingly no effort at all hoisted my lard ass off the couch and into a tight bear hug.  Gods above! I could have stayed wrapped in those massive arms and bulging pecs forever!  I immediately began to get hard and was surprised to feel a reciprocal stiffness from him as we broke apart.  Neither of us said anything, but I could swear I saw a hint of a sly grin dance across Max’s lips as I looked into his eyes again. It was all I could do to resist the urge to kiss him right there.  As I headed down the hall to my room, Max headed out the front door and said over his shoulder “Get right on it before you crash, man.  I think I will be able to read it later on tonight once things clarify in the lab.”  “OK, can do.” I said and he flashed me another 10,000 watt smile as he vanished out into the dark evening.  I finished my port and strolled back to my room to start writing…

 

 

 

I have secretly lusted for muscles and the men who have them for as long as I can remember.  I have a clear memory of having what can only be called a proto wet dream, complete with interesting sensations in my private area, involving Superman.  I can’t have been more than five or six years old at the time.  From then on I developed a keen interest in comic books.  I loved the big brawny super heroes like Superman, the Hulk and Captain America.  I was especially taken with the Mighty Thor--who was hugely muscular, ruggedly handsome, noble (if a bit hot headed), spoke in Shakespearian dialect, and had long golden locks that waved seductively in all possible circumstances.  What was not to love?  

 

I used to particularly groove on transformation sequences and origin stories. Some ordinary schnook was, via a variety of scientific or mystical means, turned into a massive powerful muscle man complete with super strength, rippling he-man physique and exclamations about incredible power surging through his previously wimpy body.  The finale of a really good transformation would feature the newly born super stud basking in the glory of his new powers and admiring his bulging muscles which had grown right through, and shredded, any ordinary item of clothing he had been wearing at the time.  The Incredible Hulk was tops at this because it happened almost every issue.  Needless to say, once Lou Ferrigno began doing this routine on television every week I was in muscle junkie heaven.

 

Unfortunately, in the real world it took an incredible amount of hard work and dedication to become anything even close to the hyper-idealized men that populated comic books and pulp fiction.  I had some pretty significant handicaps in this regard.  I was a fat kid.  I came from big framed fat people on both sides of the family and got a double dose of the fat gene.  I also inherited asthmatic lungs from my mother.  Any time I tried any sort of aerobic exercise, like running, I became short of breath and had asthmatic seizures.  This put a serious kink in any possible athletic aspirations I might have entertained. Indeed PhysEd class at school was always a nightmare.  I was the worst at everything and was a special target for thugs and bullies.  The coaches were almost as bad. Their attitude covered a narrow range from pity to indifference to outright contempt.

 

My folks did not help the situation either.  My old man had played football in high school and had a bit of the jock mentality.  However, he was married to his work and as such had little time for his kids.  Primary kid wrangling duties fell to my mother.  She tried, bless her, but she had had no brothers and I was her only boy.  She had no idea what to do with me.  She liked the fact that I was smart and funny and was interested in books and music, but I honestly think she was repulsed by my being fat.  I also think she found us kids very trying once we developed the ability to question her decisions and to push back.  She tried me on diets, but those failed because she could or would not impose it on the whole family.  As a result I resented the whole thing and did my level best to cheat.  This only made her angry and frustrated.  I think it made her resent me more which fed right back into my cheating and uncooperativeness.  I was certainly not blameless in this and, on the whole, it got all of us nowhere.

 

Mom also tried to institute some sort of exercise regime.  This mostly constituted various classes at the local Y.  She shoved me into a gymnastics class, mostly I think because my sisters were all taking gymnastics.  As one might predict, it was a disaster.  Anyone with a clue would have known that a slow fat kid in blue plaid Bermuda shorts was not going to become any good at tumbling or flinging himself up onto a pommel horse.  It was a complete embarrassment.  She also tried me at swimming.  This was an even bigger embarrassment.  Being the semi-naked fat kid in the biggest and baggiest swim trunks

imaginable and having to compete with rail thin sharks in tiny speedos was another obvious non-starter.  Here too I was a complete laughing stock.

 

As I was the consistent victim of the aforementioned thugs and bullies, my folks decided that an additional class might be in order.  I found my self enrolled in a beginning karate class which met in the big upstairs basketball court at the Y.  While I was just as rotten at karate as I was at swimming and gymnastics, I found it to be OK as long as I kept to the back of the class with the other losers and tried hard not to make too much of a fool of myself.  The folks took this lack of complaint and ran with it, keeping me in karate classes for several years. Eventually I tested for and, somewhat to my surprise, received the next ranking belt.  This entitled me to attend a smaller class that was held in an upstairs studio dedicated to karate. 

 

Karate continued on once a week for several years until the spring of my senior year in high school.  That year the Y began a multi-year series of interior renovations.  It was a big hulking brick and stone building in the heart of downtown that had been built when my Grandpa was still a young man.  They closed the upstairs part of the building off and started in on that first.  It would be closed for over a year and all the activities from upstairs had to be relocated.  Karate was moved into one of several handball courts in the basement. 

 

I had never been in the basement at the Y before.  It was a bit dark and dungeon like and smelled of a combination of stale sweat and chlorine from the indoor pool one level above.  The handball courts were closest to the stairs.  Beyond that, down a dimly lit hall, were locker rooms, showers and a steam room.  At the far end of a long corridor was the weight room and another set of lockers, showers and whatnot.  I remember that the first day of class downstairs was on my little sister’s ninth birthday.  Because of this my Mom could not drive me to class.  As I had no car and no driver's license, despite having turned 18 the previous winter, I had to take a city bus downtown.  As such, I had to enter the locker rooms for the first time in my life and surreptitiously change into my karate gear--which nearly made me late. 

 

I arrived out of breath, but just in time.  We made do in the new room as best we could, but the falling mats they had brought from upstairs did not cover the entire hardwood floor.  Moreover the janitors had forbidden the use of any adhesive to hold the mats in place, so they slid around as we practiced and sparred.  I took several nasty falls as a result.  The instructor had also paired me with a new partner for this class. New partner seemed a bit put out by this and as a result was determined to make the fat boy sweat hard. 

 

By the end of the class I was totally knackered and dying for a drink of water.  I had heard earlier that there was a drinking fountain down at the end of the hall by the weight room, so as the rest of the class filtered out toward the handball locker room or the exit , I ventured off to find water.  I grabbed my gym bag, went down the hall, and followed as it made a turn down another long passage.  There at the end of the corridor next to the entrance to the weight room was a water fountain.  I made a bee line for it, focused only on gulping down cold water by the gallon.  I drank so much so fast and it was so cold that I got a brain freeze headache and dropped my bag.  I straightened up, closed my eyes and turned half way around to get some circulation and let my head clear. 

 

When I opened my eyes I almost fainted. There was a big built in display cabinet on the wall across from me.  It was filled with muscle!  There were lots of trophies from bodybuilding and power lifting competitions accompanied by photos of various winners.  Behind these the entire cabinet was filled with color magazine pictures of the most massive and beautiful muscle men imaginable.  I recognized some of them from secret peeks I had stolen at muscle magazines at the newsstand. To have them all laid out all together on public display was overwhelming!  I felt dizzy with the excitement as I stood there, nose now almost touching the glass, drinking in what was surely a vision of muscle paradise.  I stared greedily trying to memorize every bulge and vein, every peaked bicep and brick-like ab.  I swooned as I ran my eyes over luscious round pecs with glorious brown nipple glowing with oil and hard as a nail.  I feasted like a starving man on bulging thighs and broad wing-like backs—never wanting it to end.  I loved the sunlit warm splendor of it all and envied the total confidence that such men must have.  I could almost imagine myself, sun glinting off burnished muscles, standing proud and powerful in nothing but a small posing suit.  

 

As I gorged myself on man candy, I slowly began to realize that I had a strange giddy feeling in my gut. Even more alarming, my cock was stiff as a board and trying desperately to escape the confines of my cup and jock.  I had never been this turned on in my life!  I was excited and thrilled and scared to death all at the same time.  I felt dizzy again, as if all the blood had just rushed out of my head and headed straight for my dick.  For a brief moment I really thought I might pass out.  Instead I forced myself to turn away from the muscle vision that had so enraptured me and steadied myself on the drinking fountain,  I pushed down the button on the side of the fountain and let icy cold water splash me in the face. I took another drink and straightened up, resolved to head for the exit without another look.  Still in a bit of a muscle induced haze, however, I found that I was once again standing in front of the cabinet.  As I let my eyes range over that vision of masculine perfection for a second time, I again felt that queasy sensation in my gut and was over come by that strange mixture of fear and excitement that had gripped me before. As my cock once again began to harden, I came to the inevitable (and by now somewhat obvious) conclusion that I was undoubtedly gay and completely queer for muscle.

 

As I slowly processed this revelation, the excitement (and the boner) began to fade. Fear and shame reared their ugly twin heads and exploded into full blown panic.  I quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen me. I felt like I had suddenly stripped naked and publicly declared my queerness.  The hallway was empty as, with a mounting sense of hysteria, I grabbed my bag and jacket and hurried straight for the exit and the bus stop without stopping in the locker room to change into the street clothes I had  brought with me for the long bus ride home.

 

More than thirty years later I can see that this experience has colored my entire subsequent life.  Everything I am and, more importantly, everything I could have been and wasn’t seems to stem from my muscle revelation and my fearful retreat from who it meant I was and what I wanted from life.  Looking back I deeply regret the path not taken and my decision to avoid truth, pride, love and life for the anonymity and safety of the closet.  From the vantage point of hindsight I want a mulligan, a do over to find the courage to pursue that slice of muscle heaven that I experienced all those years ago by the water fountain.  The best I can hope for now is that writing this and acknowledging past regrets will allow me to…

 

I stopped writing here and, truth be told, had no real desire to go any further.  I dreaded relating in detail how I had no idea what to do next and absolutely no one to talk about it all with. As I thought about it sitting there at the computer, I was ashamed that I had let fear of this bit of self knowledge rule the rest of my life.  Embarrassed and saddened that fear of more persecution, fear of rejection by friends and family, fear of the generally hateful societal attitude toward homosexuals that pervaded the America of my youth, and fear of the hysteria and tragedy of the AIDS epidemic convinced me to turn away from the possibility of achieving my desires and dreams and retreat from life into the darkest corner of the proverbial closet. 

 

I was also very afraid that I would lapse even further into maudlin self pity and loathing, thereby completely ruining any potential friendship I might have begun with Max.  I felt on thin ground as it was.  How could a beautiful successful stud like Max, who had achieved so much in his life, possibly identify with a loser like me after reading what a craven schnook I had been for more that thirty years?  I thought about canning my true confession and writing something lighter, funnier and very much less depressing.  I was suddenly very tired and wanted sleep.  I contemplated hitting the delete button and whipping up something better in the morning.  Instead I saved the document, powered down the terminal, and went to get ready for bed.  I figured I could always tweak it in the morning before Max read it. 

 

As I changed into baggy shorts and oversized t-shirt I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.  God I was a mess!  Big fat slabs of flab everywhere, pasty fish belly white skin, big blocky frame, dick hidden beneath a huge bulging belly; you really couldn’t get much further from a muscle stud if you tried.  I let out a big sigh, resolved to try and just enjoy the rest of the weekend in this beautiful place with this beautiful man, and get on with my life.  I flipped out the lights, got into the huge and very comfortable king bed and drifted off to sleep.

 

After good food and wine, it is no surprise that I fell asleep quickly.  It is also no shock that I started to have quite vivid dreams.  Naturally they involved muscle—a recurring nocturnal subject.  At first they were run of the mill and not particularly coherent.  Soon however the dream focused and intensified like no dream I had ever had before.  I was back at the Y staring at the display cabinet full of my fantasies.  As I stared I again got that familiar sense of giddiness and began to grow horny.  My nostrils flared with excitement as I experienced that wonderful terrible realization all over again. 

The suddenly I felt a lurch, as if a stereo needle had jumped a grove.  A large weight struck me lightly on my shoulder and a rich baritone voice asked “So how do you like it?”

 

I turned my head and saw that the weight was a powerful hand attached to a thick and oh so muscular forearm.  This in turn lead to a massive bicep attached to a glorious expanse of deltoid and pec topped by a chiseled face grinning a winning smile at me.  As I turned I realized I was facing a semi-nude muscle stud.  He was as huge a bodybuilder as I had ever secretly fantasized about dressed only in tight blue workout shorts and a wide lifting belt.  He had a white tank top draped over his shoulder and the hand not gently squeezing my shoulder was wiping his glorious sweat covered granite abs with a towel.

 

“I just finished putting it together before I went to work out.  Thought it might get the boys amped up a bit and drum up some new customers.”  His gigantic hand slid down my arm then reach out to clasp my other hand.  “I’m the new weight trainer.  Call me Tor”

 

I stood speechless for a second and then blurted out “Tor? You’re putting me on!”

 

I mentally kicked myself for saying something stupid, but he threw his head back, shook his long dirty sweaty blond hair and bellowed out a laugh.  “Nope kid, Ya shure it's dat Skandahoovian heritage, you betcha!”

 

I smiled with relief that this total stud had not been offended and knocked me into next week.

 

“So waddaya think Karate Kid?  Does my cabinet get you stoked up for some hard core workout action?”  He said grinning at me again.  I felt as if Tor could see right through my karate pants to my expanding boner and knew how much his display was affecting me.

 

I replied in a husky near whisper “It sure does.  I think it’s beautiful!”

 

He flashed a brilliant smile at me and “How about that, it works!  My first new client on the first day!”

 

“New client?  No wait… I can’t…”

 

“Sure you can kid, I can tell you’re up for it… take a good look at this and tell me you don’t want to get in on the action!”  He raised his arm and flexed for me.  His bicep rose up like a mountain and his tricep bulged making the biggest arm I had ever seen.  I nearly fainted as my stiffy went from half staff to raging hard. 

 

Tor grinned wider and said “Go ahead and touch it kid, give it as hard a squeeze as you like.”  I reached out with first one hand and then both unable the get them around his massive gun.  God I loved feeling his muscle and I knew right then that I did want big muscles just like Tor’s.

 

“C’mon big boy.”  He said as I reluctantly let go of his arm “Let’s go get cleaned up and talk this over a bit.  You’re almost as sweaty as me.”

 

Still stunned by my muscle encounter I offered no resistance as Tor steered me up the corridor and into the weight room.  The smell was overwhelming—a combination of sweat, testosterone and cold iron and steel.  I was intoxicated as we crossed the empty room full of gleaming weights and machines to a door opposite which led to a locker room.  Tor opened a locker and threw his towel and shirt inside. 

 

“Just leave your shit on the bench.”  He said as he pulled the weight belt from what I now realized was a fairly small and incredibly tight waist.  With no further discussion he shucked his shorts, jock and cup and headed for the showers.  I stood in awe at the sight of him fully naked as he walked past me and away.  He had the most spectacular ass and thickest legs I had ever seen.  He was also quite nicely hung and if my eyes were not playing tricks on me was semi hard.  All this was totally new to me, having constantly avoided public nudity at all costs.  I thought about fleeing--just up and running away and never coming back.  But then I realized that I wanted this, all of this—working out, muscles, and especially Tor.  That taste of muscle he had given me in the corridor had me hooked.  It was enough to allow me to conquer my fears and take a leap at the muscle paradise I had always secretly wished for. 

 

I undressed quickly and the cooler air in the locker room helped reduce my boner as I walked toward the shower.  I was petrified that at any moment I would find out I was on candid camera or something and it would all go horribly wrong.  What if Tor caught sight of my fat flabby naked body and was repulsed?  What if I was too far gone to make anything but a fool of myself?  What if he told me to get my fat ass out and never come back?

 

I resisted the urge to flee again and stepped into the shower room.  It was an open tiled room with shower heads lined up on the walls.  There were no dividers around so I grabbed a piece of soap from the pile next to the door and walked over to Tor who was shampooing his hair with his eyes closed.  I turned on the shower and got it warm, then went about the business of showering.  After a minute or two I heard Tor rinsing his hair and beginning to soap himself up.

 

“Dude, can you help me soap up my back?” came his sexy masculine voice from the growing wisps of steam.

 

I looked up and saw that he was standing with that massive wing spread and beautiful ass toward me.

 

“Sure.” I said, trying to keep my voice low and steady.

 

I started with his wide shoulders soaping and massaging as I worked inward toward a monumental set of traps.  I could feel tension and soreness ease out of him as I worked down over a magnificent universe of ridged muscle that defined his back.  I labored mightily on his lats which I found immensely sexy.  I wanted nothing more than to reach around and soap his deep hairy pits ant glorious bulging pecs.  I resisted, as I was unsure how far I could go, and opted to work and soap the massive twin columns of his lower back. 

 

I finished his back and hesitated.  I was not sure that fondling that beautiful butt was part of my mission and did not want to blow it.  I straightened up, realizing that I was again fully hard.

 

Just then Tor turned his back to the shower nozzle and started to rinse his back.  After a moment he leaned his head back, raised his massive arms into what I later learned was called a Sergio pose, and let out the deepest sexiest growl of satisfaction I had ever heard.

 

I felt dizzy at that glorious sight and before I could do anything I simultaneously moaned loudly, staggered with disorientation, and shot off the biggest orgasm I had ever experienced.  It felt magnificent for a second and then my vision swam and I felt as if I would pass out. 

 

Suddenly I was surrounded by muscle—bulging bis, meaty pecs, a tight waist and super ass that I found myself clinging too, and a raging 10 inch muscle cock slapped up against my fat gut. As my brain and vision cleared, I heard Tor whisper in my ear “Easy there dude, just relax and get your bearings back.  I won’t let go.”

 

I reveled in his solidity for a minute, not caring if I died right there I was so sublimely happy and contented to be in his arms.  Then I came back to myself and tried to pull away and shrink into invisibility.  I spoke in a choked whisper “Oh God I am so embarrassed!  Don’t beat me up or anything, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Sorry for what man?  Dudes get off on me all the time, I love it!” he said as he steadied me on my own feet again.  “I knew you were a muscle junkie from the way you looked at my display--nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of there.” 

 

He shot me another beautiful smile and the knot in my gut started to slacken.  He took a step back and shot me a double bi pose which started my cock hardening all over again.  “Now” he said with a commanding note in his voice, “Stop trying to hide in the shower water, stand up straight and proud and let me see what we have to work with.”

 

I did as he said, tentatively at first and then taller and straighter as I realized that the feeling in my gut which had been one of pure terror was being replaced by elation.  By God, for the first time in my life I felt no need to be ashamed of who and what I was.  I was almost giddy with the feeling and my dick responded accordingly. 

 

Tor looked appraisingly at me, as if judging horse flesh at an auction.  “Hmmmm…a solid big frame, good length of bone, and muscle under it all.  You are a fat bastard kiddo, no question about that, but you have the makings of a real muscle stud in you and you will be amazed how quickly that blubber peels off with the right diet and work out". 

 

"I can see from your rising boner that you are a true muscle freak and that is just what the doctor ordered”.  He grined that infectious grin again and looked me right in the eye. 

 

“So are you up for taking the muscle plunge junior?  I won’t kid you, it will be hard work and you will have to dedicate yourself to it like nothing you have done before.”

 

I thought for a second, did I want this?  Did I want to be mentored by this stud?  Did I want to be near him and possibly get off on his muscles again?  Did I want to transform myself into a big brawny muscle stud and change my life forever?  Was I going to be proud of who and what I was and go for what I truly wanted in life?

 

“HELL YES!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I rushed back into his open arms and French kissed him as if my life depended on it.

 

The next part of my dream rushed by in a rapid blur of images and fragments.  I started working out with Tor right away, three days a week at first then more often.  I changed rapidly under his guidance, shedding pounds and building a solid foundation of muscle.  Within a year I was unrecognizable.  I elected to go to college locally and continued with Tor for another year—making enough progress to be hired as an assistant trainer. 

 

Shortly after that Tor came and told me he had to leave and we would not see each other again.  I was crushed.  He had become almost a father figure to me as well as an object of worship, a trainer, a friend, and a lover.  I begged him not to leave but he said it was unavoidable and that we would meet again in the future.  He made me swear to not come looking for him but to get on with my muscle life and to always stand tall and proud of who I was.  I agreed reluctantly but did go into a fair sized funk after he left.  I refused to backslide though and if anything threw myself into training even harder.  The next years were peppered with education, muscle lovers, bodybuilding contests, computer jobs, and writing. 

 

The strange thing about the dream was how vivid and real it all felt.  I thought I could physically feel the workouts I did, the muscle encounters I had, and the progress I made-- even as I dreamt it.  As the dream progressed toward the present time it seemed to become more and more real and my “real” life as a fat lonely closeted slob seemed to fade and become less real and more like a dream.  The feelings of power and pride, of masculinity and pure muscle pleasure, grew and grew as my dream fast forwarded toward the present.  My dream weekend reeled into sharp focus and, while the basic events remained the same the dynamic shifted markedly.  Max and I were two confident gay muscle studs who were obviously into each other.  We still talked and drank until he went off to continue his “time-space manipulation” experiment and I went off to write a very different story that reflected the dream version of my past rather than the ‘real” thing.

The dream seemed to build to a peak with a swirl of muscle imagery.  I could feel my dream muscles flexing and bulging while my dream cock grew harder and thicker.  I let out a mighty roar; much like the Hulk used to do on television, and woke with a start and a deep gasp.  I lay still for a second realizing that the grey of dawn was providing a soft misty light in my room.  I quickly realized that my head hurt with all the hallmarks of a king-sized hangover.  I was drenched in sweat and, slightly to my embarrassment I had shot a load off.  “Jeeeez”, I thought, “I haven’t had a real wet dream in a long time”. 

 

My eyes seemed to be full of morning eye gunk as I managed to get out of bed and feel my way toward the bathroom without turning on the light.  I got the warm water going and rinsed the eye goobers away.  I reached over and switched on the light and was momentarily startled by the face and body in the mirror.  I stared for a minute and familiarity crept back in to my aching head.  There was the curly close cropped auburn hair and full beard that had earned me my nickname.  There were the wide traps and wider delts connected to beautiful full and bulging upper arms.  The mirror was small so I could not see down past the deep crease between my huge chest muscles all dusted with auburn fur.  I gave each pec a bit of a flex and was gratified to see them jump in a very sexy and satisfying dance.  I stroked each one lovingly, stopping to tweak each hardening nipple, then ran both hands down over my bricklike abs ending with an appreciative fondle of my substantial and semi-hard dick.  “Damn I love being a muscle stud!” I thought as I then raised my right arm and flexed my bicep into a beautiful full rounded peak. 

 

As I was admiring my bicep’s shape in the mirror, I felt a hand grab it from behind and a sexy baritone voice whisper in my ear “You must be the Mighty Hercules.  Can I feel your muscles?”

 

“Any time big boy.”  I purred back at Max as I turned and put my other arm around his waist to draw him in close.

 

He had shed his clothes and I was stuck again by how beautiful his incredible muscles were.  I looked into his chiseled face and sparkling blue eyes and got a quick impression that he looked a bit older this morning than on the previous evening.  There was nothing old feeling about his big horse cock however that was rising to greet me in the dim grey light. 

 

“So is the God of Thunder done playing Mad Scientist for the night?  How long have you been awake?”

 

“It seems like two years.”  He said giving me a killer smile.

 

“Did the experiment or whatever go well?”

 

He gave me an appraising look and squeezed my bicep again.  “I would say the results were magnificent” he said, his smile widening.

 

“Well” I said giving his glorious bubble butt a playful squeeze, “Are you up for helping me get cleaned up before you turn in to a pumpkin?”

 

His eyes flashed as he whispered “Hell yes.”  Then he French kissed me as if his life depended on it.

 

[cutlerfan]

Wonderful story! A fine tale of muscle dreams! I'd say more but I don't want to give away the plot. Peace, CF

[arpeejay]

Yay! So happy to see this here! All the best elements of a great story (autobiography, a great McGuffin, excellent descriptions, sweet characters, and muscle muscle muscle!) Thanks for the contribution and here's to many more!

[Bjort]

2 hours ago, cutlerfan said:

Wonderful story! A fine tale of muscle dreams! I'd say more but I don't want to give away the plot. Peace, CF

Very glad you like cutlerfan and thanks for not giving anything away!  I am a YUGE Cutler fan as well.  Woof!

[Bjort]

4 minutes ago, arpeejay said:

Yay! So happy to see this here! All the best elements of a great story (autobiography, a great McGuffin, excellent descriptions, sweet characters, and muscle muscle muscle!) Thanks for the contribution and here's to many more!

High praise indeed Arpeejay, I can die a happy muscle fiend now!  Thanks for all your support, it means the world to your humble servant...  ? And yes, I think there might be a few more stories up my sleeve.  Stay tuned Campers! 

[flamedelft]

A nice story, even if it is not exactly to my tastes (I'd appreciate some strength displays, and maybe more description of the transformation, but that's just personal preference ).

Looking forward to reading more stuff from you!

[changes]

Love this story! I would have maybe liked a bit more description post transformation, or a slower realization of the changes before fully taking over the guy's mind, but really fantastic stuff overall.

[Bjort]

10 hours ago, flamedelft said:

A nice story, even if it is not exactly to my tastes (I'd appreciate some strength displays, and maybe more description of the transformation, but that's just personal preference ).

Looking forward to reading more stuff from you!

Thanks flamedelft.  I am very glad you like it.  I have an idea for a sequel and have some other stuff in the works.  I love strength displays and I am hip about lingering over the actual transformation.  I love hearing from readers, without them a writer is just a dude in a room jerking off! ?  Cheers!

[Bjort]

20 minutes ago, changes said:

Love this story! I would have maybe liked a bit more description post transformation, or a slower realization of the changes before fully taking over the guy's mind, but really fantastic stuff overall.

Many thanks changes! I am very pleased you like it.  I have a sequel in mind which will start right where this one ends and I think we can gaurentee some immediate post change fun and worship! ?  Always good to have input from readers. Thanks again and cheers!