Popular Post londonboy Posted September 4, 2019 Popular Post Share Posted September 4, 2019 The thought of a seventy-year old massive muscle monster kept me up most nights. It also kept my cock so hard that I couldn’t roll over or it would have acted like a kickstand and stopped the motion of my body instantly – causing a lot of pain. I wanted a senior bulging daddy to take care of me. I wanted a huge master to keep me in line when I got out of place and the same elder beast to reward me when I did something nice. It was completely crazy, but I craved the disciplining just as much as I longed for the rewarding. I knew I needed the constant positive reinforcement that only a strong, silver-haired, weathered-faced, golden-ager could give. I was a twenty-six-year-old gay man that wanted one thing in life – a humongous senior citizen mentor who would treat me as his boy, his pup, his plaything - all rolled up into one. I became so obsessed with this desire that I became one of the world’s leading chemists, even at my young age – having graduated high school and college within five years and getting my doctorate so quickly that professors at world-renowned universities came to me to learn. I, however, had one goal and one goal only with my newfound knowledge – a gray haired super daddy. I said yes to a very lucrative job with a major pharmaceutical company in southern California under the guise that I was helping them create resources for dermatologists to assist people to stay young and healthy looking. The work they paid me handsomely for was actually child’s play since I already had lots of ideas that would help to accomplish their goals – but it was the work that I got to do in my private lab that fueled me on daily. I was working on what powered my every waking and sleeping moment – my thirst for an enormous senior daddy. As part of my research I frequented gay bars and gyms that catered to older men. I knew that part of my dream coming true depended on finding the perfect man. I wasn’t interested in continuing my work after I attained my goal. I wasn’t interested in creating an army of big older men; I just wanted one muscled daddy that would rock my world. I think half the fun of my research was ‘interviewing’ potential candidates, since it gave me a smorgasbord of hot elder men to dream about at night. Many guys didn’t cut the mustard because of their attitude. There were a lot of elder men out there that only wanted a younger man so they’d have a companion. That was all fine and good, and I respected those people, but I wanted more from my elder muscled god. Don’t get me wrong, I certainly wanted to please and service him, but I also wanted him to demand a lot from me. I wanted a teacher, a coach, a guide, a trainer – in short, I wanted a muscled gramps. It took me only a year and a half to land on the perfect formula for accomplishing my goal. It took me longer, however, to find the right man for the job. I knew the stuff I had created would only change a man physically and that meant the interior self of my daddy needed to be there already. Sure, the added size and strength would definitely impact the guy’s attitude, but I knew there had to be certain characteristics in place prior to the change. A certain desire needed to already course through the veins of my elder god. My search was getting a little frustrating and almost discouraging until I met Mr. Dennis – Mr. Randy Dennis. I met Mr. Dennis on his seventy-first birthday. He was celebrating with some friends at Wrinkles, a neighborhood bar that catered specifically to older men. In the beginning, I had been mistaken for a hustler in the bar, but since I had gone there so often by this point I was now considered a regular. Mr. Dennis was there for the first time; a small entourage of friends had forced him to go out for his special day. I started to ignore the group and the birthday boy after taking a long gander at them and deciding they were all too young to become my desired daddy. Mr. Dennis, himself, looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties – a great age, in and of itself, but not old enough for me. It was only after I heard one of his friends threatening to offer him the obligatory seventy-one spankings that I sat up and took notice. The birthday boy definitely had a lot going for him. He clearly had a well-made body that seemed to still be in pretty good shape; something that definitely caused him to look younger. I used the huge mirror on one of the walls of the bar to get a good look at his smiling face and that’s when my cock started to pulse as strong as my heartbeat. All of my life an elder man’s face had been one of my biggest turn-ons. Mr. Dennis had that endured look I loved so much – crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, masculine wrinkled brow, sexy receding hairline, indented jowls that still looked firm, and the beginnings of age spots that only complimented his look. It was the perfect graying of his hair that really got me going, though. He had dark hair everywhere, except along the temples and running around the entire edge of his closely cropped cut. It was always the look that actually sent my cock into spewing mode when I was imagining older men while beating off. When the man smiled he had great un-perfectly-whitened teeth. There was nothing fake about the guy and it was clear he was proud to be the age he was – even though he really looked a lot younger than seventy-one. My toes literally curled up in my shoes when I heard him speak. It wasn’t this deep voice that I had always dreamed of, but it was powerful and almost bossy – much more to my liking than what I had fantasized about in the past. The guy was giving his friends grief over making him do a shot and it sounded like a teacher scolding the entire class. I was in heaven – the man was definitely confident and already sounded a little coach-like. I stared more closely at the guy as I focused on the group’s conversation more. He was in pretty good shape, it seemed – still sporting a tapered look that was usually reserved to guys a third of his age. The guy’s chest actually bumped his shirt out a little – pecs pushing against the material even though I could tell they weren’t as hard as they used to be. He probably had that slightly droopy beef look that older men got as their muscles aged. His arms definitely filled out the sleeves of his shirt, but I could tell the triceps weren’t as firm as they once were. After he and his pals downed the shots that had been placed in front of them, the elder man actually wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – in that rough way, which was usually reserved for cowboys, construction workers, or bare-knuckle fighters getting rid of blood. I felt myself swallow hard as I watched him make the masculine move. It was the next moment that confirmed this was the elder man I had been looking for all these months. The guy took his full beer, downed it in one long gulp, and then let out the loudest burp I had ever heard. It actually made the entire bar go silent and every head turned in his direction. The act in and of itself was kind of repulsive, but when the spotlight was put upon Mr. Dennis in this awkward way, he simply raised his hands in a ‘what’s a guy to do’ sort of way and then spoke to everyone loudly. “Sorry, gentlemen, but I think within me there’s an aggressive Neanderthal beast just dying to escape. I feel like an ape that wants to pound wildly on his chest. I apologize for my behavior.” That clinched the deal for me. It was those words that grabbed my heart in the kind of vice-grip that happens very few times in one’s life. I felt the rush of euphoria that Dr. Frankenstein must have felt when his monster came alive. I tried to envision Mr. Dennis with about a hundred pounds of more densely packed bulging muscles. I imagined him with the kind of body that couldn’t be contained in mere shirts of other mortals. He’d need sleeveless tops – allowing for his massive biceps and triceps ballooning out in ways that would give him that ‘move out of my way’ look of giant musclemen. For some reason, I also envisioned him in cut-off blue jean shorts usually reserved for southern women or skinny junior high boys. His, however, would be stretched-to-the-max above bulging thighs and loose around the skinny waist. My mind then went to the stubbly fur that would constantly cover the lower part of his face – being unable to shave enough times during the day to remove what his testosterone-laden body would churn out daily. Randy Dennis would definitely be one of those handsome elder grizzlies that was perfectly comfortable totally nude or covered in a tight tuxedo – realizing that even covered up his body still looked hot-as-hell. While I was imagining all of this, the man, himself, had walked up to the bar beside where I sat to order another beer. We caught eyes and he did that manly up-tick of his chin and smiled to say hello. The opportunity of the moment emboldened me. “Happy birthday. Might I give the birthday boy a kiss?” “Sweetheart, I could be your great grandfather!” “Ah, trying to turn me on, are you?” I quickly responded, catching him off guard. “Would this so-called mouth to mouth moment involve any tongue, young man?” “Only if you instigated it, sir.” Maybe it was the shot and the beers, maybe it was because it was his birthday, or maybe it was just because I am, what a lot of people would consider, most handsome – but the older guy leaned toward me and placed his perfect lips against mine. On some level, I registered the whoops and hollering that came from his comrades, but I kept my focus on the beautiful, manly, worn face as it moved in to mine. I was surprised to see that he kept his eyes open, as well. It was the kind of kiss that would have had sparks shooting out everywhere or lightning bolts flashing if this had been a cartoon. I instantly knew the connection was not one-sided, either. The widening of his eyes told me he felt the electrical-like jolt, too. He pulled back quickly. “Fuck, what was that?” Mr. Dennis asked with an astonished face. “Fate,” I replied. “Who knew fate could feel so good.” “May I buy your beer, birthday boy?” “With lips like those, dinner would be better, handsome?” His comment caught me off guard. I started to speak, but my mouth just dropped open wide and I stared at him. Damn, his face was gorgeous – even in the midst of being dumbfounded by him I could admire his looks. Jade colored eyes with flecks of gold in them were emphasized by the light green perfectly crisp linen shirt which complimented his still wiry elder body. His clothes were expensive – I could tell – and that excited me in a way I had not anticipated. Maybe I was turned on by the fact that my future super-powered gramps was secure and established. I forced myself to return to the present moment and tried my best to react to his roundabout invitation to dinner. “How ‘bout it, stud? Care to take an old man to dinner for his birthday?” “I would . . . I would . . . like it more than . . . than…” “Spit it out, son.” “More than anything, sir.” “Fuck, no need to be formal, son. Quit with the ‘sir’ stuff. It makes me feel old. Call me Randy.” “I’m Thomas. It’s great to meet you, Randy.” “Likewise. I have expensive taste, Thomas. Sure you want to take me to dinner?” “Only if drinks at my place can follow,” I replied, having regained some of my bravado from earlier. “Damn, you’re a slick one, Thomas. You don’t need glasses do you, pal. You do know that I’m seventy-one, today, and you’re – let me guess – twenty-four?” “Almost twenty-seven.” “Damn, a cute spring chicken. No telling what the boys, over there, are going to call me behind my back when I leave with you. Let me go tell them goodbye and you take out that phone of yours and make reservations at some very nice expensive French restaurant. This is already turning into a birthday I will never forget. He had no idea how right he was. I was going to make sure it was a night we’d both always remember. 36 1 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
divis24 Posted September 4, 2019 Share Posted September 4, 2019 Ooh, ooh! Another saga from Londonboy! Thanks for keep turning out such hot and well-crafted stories 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ClaudeMarkus Posted September 4, 2019 Share Posted September 4, 2019 Perfect start! Exactly what I like and look for. Can't wait for more! 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TheOnceandFutureFreak Posted September 5, 2019 Share Posted September 5, 2019 If any older muscle reading this let me know to make this happen. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lambert771 Posted September 5, 2019 Share Posted September 5, 2019 Nice, always hot to see a story bout mature muscle man. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MrAlice Posted September 5, 2019 Share Posted September 5, 2019 Your stories always make me think of this post in the best way 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ploder4 Posted September 5, 2019 Share Posted September 5, 2019 https://twitter.com/CoachThor2 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post londonboy Posted September 6, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted September 6, 2019 Part Two I had the plan laid out in my head before Randy had even returned from telling his friends he was leaving with me. I also had scored a reservation at one of the most exclusive French restaurants in the city. It was, of course, an earlier reservation than anticipated, but that was fine – it meant we could get back to my place quicker. It meant I could follow through on the task at hand sooner and accomplish this dream I had been working so long and so hard to achieve. A quick acting narcotic would put the guy out long enough for me to inject him with the formula and for the growth to happen. When Randy woke up from his little nap he would be a new man – a huge, powerful, gray-haired new man. I briefly contemplated the morality of what I was planning to do. Was I obligated to get his approval for the changes I was offering – both as a scientist and a human being? I had wanted this for so long and, now, the reality of what I intended to do made me falter momentarily from my dream. That’s also exactly when Randy reappeared. “If I were a younger and bigger man, Thomas, I’d be plowing you in a bathroom stall in the back right now. That’s how hot you are. I’m still a fit guy, but you’re a pretty big fella and I’m not sure I could take you?” “What if I went along willingly, Randy?” “Where would the fun be in that, youngster? Ah, if only I could be a strong young buck for just one day – now that would be the best birthday present of all. I’d do you until the cows came home.” It was as if the heavens had parted and the muscle gods had dropped a present directly in my lap. For some reason, during my internal ‘happy dance’ at his words, I noticed his blocky thick masculine hands and got a slight taste of what the rest of him would look like when the serum did its business. I found it a pity that he’d never be able to wear his gorgeous flattering shirt, again. It then hit me that he’d have a whole wardrobe at home that he’d never be able to wear again. It was a good thing that part of my planning had been to purchase some triple extra-large items of clothing for my one day senior knight in shining muscle armor. Randy brought me back to reality. “You sure do drift off a lot, Thomas. Where is it exactly that you go?” “I was just wondering what you’d look like as a strong buck.” “Well, if you’re good I’ll show you some pictures of when I was your age. Back then I mostly wore tank-tops or went shirtless. I worked construction and had one of those naturally built physiques you’d see in what they called ‘beefcake’ magazines. I’m still hitting the gym three times a week, stud, so I’m not out to pasture, yet.” “I think you look incredible – maybe even fifteen years younger than you really are.” “That’s what everyone says, kid. Yes, age is only a number, but when the number is as high as mine is, you tend to have a few more aches and pains than you used to. It’s a bitch getting older and don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t. So, where are you taking me to dinner?” When I told him the name of the restaurant there was a flicker of surprised appreciation in his face. He started to talk about the place being way too expensive for a kid like me, but a quick opening of my wallet to reveal a row of top of the line unlimited credit cards, as well as a pocket full of big bills, made him realize I wasn’t just a run of the mill handsome young man. He had an even greater look of delight when he slid into the passenger seat of my Porsche Taycan. He immediately stopped thinking I couldn’t afford dinner. I was a little surprised by the obvious power in Randy’s blocky weathered hand when he grabbed my thigh tightly as we pulled away from the bar. I jumped a little at his forwardness. “You don’t mind, do you, Thomas?” “No sir. I was just a little surprised.” “Surprised because of my forwardness or by the fact that I still have a pretty strong grip.” “Both.” I smiled to myself as I thought about how much stronger his grip would be in just a few hours. He was going to be able to squeeze things hard enough to break them or crush them into something unrecognizable. This particular thought made my growing hardness press against his fingers. Mr. Dennis raised his hand a little and moved it inward so his grip would encompass my thick rod, as well. “Damn boy, you weren’t lying when you said you were turned on by older men. I don’t mean anything by this next question, but why aren’t you already taken. Why hasn’t some big older man already snatched your heart, son?” “I haven’t made the right one, yet, sir.” “You mean ‘met,’ right? You said made, which is kind of funny. Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink. Maybe I should be driving, Thomas.” I had not noticed my own mistake. I felt my face flash crimson. How could I have been so clumsy? Luckily, Mr. Dennis brushed it off as a slip of the tongue and nothing more. I felt as if I had just escaped death by just a hair. I was so focused on how perfect this man was for my plan that I had stopped being careful and calculating – the signs of a good scientist. I shook my head a little and forced myself to double-down on my efforts to focus. Nothing could get in the way with my plan. I was too close now to make any more stupid mistakes. Another reason I was having trouble focusing was the fact that Randy’s hand felt good on my thigh. His fingers also felt fantastic while they stroked my hardness through my pants. The guy also kept emitting soft appreciative growls that turned me on – just as he wanted them to, I’m sure. “We’d like a booth,” Mr. Dennis said to the host at the restaurant and when he noticed that I looked at him he added, “If we sit across from each other at a table people will think I’m your father. I want people knowing this is a date. I want people to think about how virile that old man must be to be out with such a hot young man. Of course, there’s the chance they’ll think you’re a hustler, but your clothing, your watch, your shoes, and your haircut make it perfectly clear that you have money. They’ll know it’s a date and they’ll think I still have it going on down under my belt.” “Honey, you do still have it going on – all over,” said the host – to my utter surprise - as he listened to our conversation. “Thank you, young man. Where’s your tip jar. I was just kidding, don’t look so shocked,” Mr. Dennis responded. “I just really appreciate your compliment.” “I have the perfect booth. It’s near the center of the restaurant so everyone can see you and it’s curved so you can sit really close,” the guy said, leading us into the restaurant. Mr. Dennis put his hand at the small of my back to lead me before him. I was turned on by the gesture – it felt good to be guided and encouraged at the same time. His hand stayed there until we arrived at our booth. As soon as we slid in, he moved to the center of the curve and patted the seat right beside him. I suddenly didn’t care if even my very conservative grandfather was at the table beside us, I slid over beside the older man and he put his arm around my shoulders as he picked up the wine list. Suddenly, a memory hit me like a ton of bricks – Old Spice. Mr. Dennis, a well-dressed, obviously pretty wealthy man, was wearing a cologne I normally attached to accountants, architects, and blue-collared workers. Don’t ask me to explain the logic – there was no way I could. It was clearly a hangover memory from my childhood and the scent literally made my cock grow harder. Once he was as big and strong as the Hulk I would insist he still wear that cologne. “Tell me what the limit is on my wine choice, Thomas,” Mr. Dennis said as he opened up the wine menu. “There are no limits, Mr. Dennis,” I replied, turning to look him in the eye and inhale deeply so I could get another ‘Old Spice’ fix. “Do you like your wines strong?” he asked. “Like my men,” I replied. He quickly looked at me. I saw a mixture of adoration, lust, and dominance in his gaze. It was that last part that interested me the most. I imagined Mr. Dennis’ already confident attitude soaring off the charts when he was big and powerful. I thought about how he’d demand attention and obedience with just a little tensing of his bulging muscles. “Where have you been all my life, little Tommy,” he asked – with the kind of softness in his voice that also made my toes curl. “Waiting for you to find me,” I replied and we stared at each other for what seemed like a good two minutes until he finally spoke. “Borolo, it is, then. Nothing compares to the power and stamina of a Borolo.” I thought about the age and power of a nice Borolo wine. It seemed symbolic of my taste in men and the perfect choice to seal the secret deal I was about to make with this particular older man. He was going to be my Borolo man – thick, strong, and aged to perfection. He was staring at me as I contemplated all that was to come. “You worry too much, young Thomas,” he said smiling at me. “Let go. Enjoy the now. I’m perfectly content. This moment is all that I need. Good wine, wonderful food, a handsome man under my arm, and the promise of a new day tomorrow. What else could we ask for?” At that moment, the more-than-handsome wine sommelier stepped up to our table. Mr. Dennis’ arm immediately got tighter around my shoulders, as if he were a dog marking his territory. I knew Randy found the guy attractive, no breathing homosexual wouldn’t, but he was more interested in making sure the guy knew that I was taken. I had never had an older man do that – it was thrilling beyond what I thought was possible and I slid closer to the older man to make sure he knew he had nothing to worry about. This enabled Randy to be as free as he wanted to be. I had hoped that would be the outcome. “God, you’re beautiful,” Mr. Dennis said before the sommelier had a chance to even say hello. “Tell me about the Giacomo Conterno Monifino Borolo.” The sommelier and I exchanged glances. I saw dollar signs spinning around in his eyes like a slot machine. We had met a few times at different parties around town. He was a verified ‘catch’ as they say in the gay community but I had never been interested. He was too young, too pretty, and too ‘put together.’ I wanted my men older and rough around the edges. We were, however, acquaintances that traveled in the same pack. I smiled to let him know I realized the wine Mr. Dennis asked about was more than the monthly rent of a three-bedroom apartment in our city and that didn’t make a difference. The professional sommelier quickly made the wine sound like the best thing since sliced bread and I could tell Mr. Dennis was sold. I had to admit, I was looking forward to tasting it, myself. “We’ll take two bottles,” Mr. Dennis said and turned to me quickly. “I’m paying for one of them, don’t worry, Thomas. I can pay for both of them if you like. I don’t have to worry about money.” It was at that moment I realized I knew very little about my intended muscled husband. It caused me to pause and seriously think about what I was about to do to this man. Again, was it legally right? No. Was it morally right? No. Was I still planning to do it? Yes. Surely, he would want this change to. I suddenly threw caution to the wind and decided it was important for me to know him better – especially some of his desires. “I can assure you it’s fine, Mr. Dennis,” I said and smiled at the more-than-ecstatic sommelier. “This is your birthday and I want to make it a night you never forget.” A big hand grabbed my crotch under the table. It didn’t do it softy. It didn’t do it slowly. An aggressive paw cupped the base of my hard cock and balls and squeezed hard enough to cause tears in my eyes. I didn’t mind. Turning to the older man beside me I smiled and gritted my teeth. I had never wanted a man as much as I wanted Mr. Dennis. “I don’t go out much because I’m pretty wealthy and I never know if a guy likes me for who I am or my money,” Mr. Dennis said with the kind of honesty that was moving. “Last year, my income was in the nine-digit area,” I replied, to put him at ease. “Impressive,” he replied, “Mine was close to eleven digits,” Mr. Dennis answered and I was totally unprepared for how money talk could make my dick hard. “I’m still paying for the wine,” I said, staking my territory like an alpha dog and the older man was instantly impressed with my boldness. “I acquiesce,” said Mr. Dennis. “I know when I am beaten.” “Hardly,” I said with a boldness I didn’t recognize. “You let me win, but I’m definitely sure I won the battle, but not the war. I think you’re too powerful to let me win the war.” Mr. Dennis brought his hand to the back of my neck and squeezed tightly, causing me to tighten those muscles a little from the discomfort. But I truly found the move a turn-on and very pleasurable. He could sense that. “You want your old man to be powerful, don’t you, Thomas?” “Yes sir,” I whispered, looking into his eyes. “I’m afraid I might disappoint. I’m not as strong and tough as I used to be.” “Do you wish you were?” I asked hesitantly. There it was. The question that could truly seal my destiny. I quickly wondered if I could walk away from this man if he answered in the negative. I was so invested in him by this point – not meaning money – but with my heart. He was everything I had ever dreamed of – and even more. He had that rare ability to be an alpha one minute and then a teddy-bear the next. I just wanted him to be a huge, bulging teddy-bear. Was that so wrong? Could I truly back out of this plan if he answered that he did not want to change? I found that I was holding my breath in anticipation. “Since it would please you, yeah . . . yeah I do,” he answered, smiling at me – and there was the teddy-bear. “But would it please you?” I asked, choosing to push the conversation into dangerous waters. “I don’t dream of being younger, if that’s what you’re asking, Thomas,” Randy answered as the sommelier returned and showed the older man the first bottle of Borolo. With a quick nod of his head, Mr. Dennis affirmed that the bottle of wine was correct and the good employee backed away from the table to open it – so as to not interrupt what he could tell was an important conversation. Mr. Dennis returned his gaze to me. “What if you could be big and powerful at the age you are now?” “Hell, son, why do you think I trek to the gym so many days a week? I’m doing the best an old man can do. A lot of guys my age are rocking it in walkers, you know.” “You are doing more than fine, Mr. Dennis,” I said quickly and his hand squeezed my neck again. “We’re simply dreaming here. I’m getting to know you better – how you think, what makes you tick. I’m interested in your fantasies.” To my complete disappointment, our conversation had to be interrupted so Mr. Dennis could sample the wine – which had been moved to a stunning decanter so it could breathe. The entire process seemed to take hours. Finally, after affirming how great it tasted and complimenting the cute sommelier, we got our two hefty pours and said cheers looking into each other’s eyes. Mr. Dennis was now lightly massaging my neck. It felt good and went perfectly with the incredible wine. “Where were we?” Mr. Dennis asked and then said, “Oh yeah. Do I fantasize about being a man in his seventies with the body of Lou Ferrigno?” “Yes,” I quickly answered, picturing that golden behemoth, “that’s exactly what I mean.” “Well, let’s get a little more specific. Would I just look like Lou? You know, like one of those young steroid bunnies or would I have the inner workings of a young virile stud, too. What’s the good of being big if you still can’t get it up that often and you still have to go to the bathroom four to five times during the night to pee.” “Yes! You’d have the inner workings of Lou, too,” I said, sounding a little too frustrated, which Mr. Dennis clearly noticed. “Who knew my fantasies could be such an interest to you, Thomas? There’s no need to get testy. We’re just having some fun here, right?” “I’m sorry. You’re right. I can get carried away, sometimes,” I quickly apologized. “It’s just . . . that . . . um . . . it’s what I fantasize about.” How in the hell had we gotten to the point where I would be so completely honest? I was not being a good scientist. A good one never let his own needs or desires influence the outcome of an experiment, although wasn’t that what all of this was? A good scientist, even if doing self-satisfying work, needed to stay neutral, which I was not. Mr. Dennis smiled at my confession. “You’d like to have a big muscled gramps, huh, Thomas?” “A big muscled powerful gramps, sir.” “Look at you, with your lust for an elder Hercules or senior He-Man. That’s adorable, son. Yeah, kid . . . yeah. What normal, breathing guy doesn’t every now and then wish he was some powerful humongous stud. I don’t tend to fantasize that much, Thomas, but I guess I sometimes dream about what it would be like to be huge with a smaller guy I could take care of. A guy like you – only you’re bigger than me.” Mr. Dennis misunderstood the reason for the tears in my eyes. He thought I was a little ‘off-my-rocker’ and wanted to be babied by an older man. He thought the tears came because he had said he’d like to take care of a guy like me. I guess on some level he was right, but the tears were actually because I knew – without any doubt, now – that he would be the man I would turn into my powered gramps. 31 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MuscleLust Posted September 6, 2019 Share Posted September 6, 2019 Great story. Waiting for the rest of it 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Kymuscleboy Posted September 8, 2019 Share Posted September 8, 2019 I love where this is going. I can't wait to see how Randy grows and how his attitude is enhanced by his growth and incredible strength. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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