TQuintA Posted July 2, 2023 Author Share Posted July 2, 2023 Chapter 22 The next two weeks passed predictably: lifting, fucking, eating, medicating. A lot of all of them. Krakatoa was the twelfth man to clear the second round. Everyone around us was growing huge. Slate had passed 270 pounds with a 10 inch dick, and he looked it. He never missed an opportunity to flex his biceps or pecs, and if there weren’t rules about wearing clothes, he would never have had a shirt on—he was that proud of his abs. Krakatoa was at 240 with a 7-and-a-quarter inch dick; he was the smallest of our group (despite being the tallest), but his pecs especially were thick and juicy, and he was larger than half the guys in the house. With my pushing, Onyx kept getting bigger. At the end of week six of the second round, Onyx had ballooned up to an impressive 279, and then surpassed that at the end of week seven when he weighed in at 289. He had muscles on muscles, piling up to a thick neck and chest. His arms especially exploded with power. His shoulders were growing wider by the day, but his waist was youthfully narrow. His quads and ass threatened every pair of pants he owned. He was easily one of the biggest men I had never seen; if it weren’t for the existence of mirrors, he would have easily been the biggest pleasure boy I’d ever seen. His cock had steadily increased too. He was now packing 8 and a quarter inches, and he was thicker than ever. I can personally attest how skillful he was with that impressive equipment. He could get me cumming in two minutes flat as our two, hard, behemoth muscle bodies slammed into each other during a fuck session. With Onyx’s pushing, I kept getting bigger too. At the end of week six, I was at 342.5. At the end of week seven, I was weighed at 352.5. I was now a skosh bigger than the biggest legacy bodybuilders. Fred had clarified that bodybuilders could get bigger than 350 pounds; they just weren’t allowed to for a series of opaque, impenetrable rules about decency and propriety. My cock hadn’t gotten any bigger since Onyx stopped dosing me with dimefidone, but 11 inches was big enough. Most of my clients could no longer accommodate my size. They would run their hands all over my turgid monster, lick it and kiss it, but if they wanted me to fully penetrate them, they had to bring toys. A few special long-term regulars, like Adam, could still take all of me, but part of my sales appeal was now that I was too big for most men. If you couldn’t take me, you got off on how incredibly huge I was. If you could take me, your virility and prowess were proven. My motivation kept waxing and waning those two weeks. Every time I burst out of an article of clothing, my crew had to remind me what was at stake. Every time I struggled to squeeze through a doorway, they pushed me bigger. Every time a piece of gym equipment became laughably too light for me, the whole gym celebrated. Every time my body was an impractical obstacle to basic human functioning, Onyx would reassure me it could always be more of an obstacle. When I crushed the box the stylist at the salon had me sit on, Slate had him put it on display as an inspirational monument. When I shattered my shower door just by turning to face the showerhead, Krakatoa threw me a party in the cafeteria. When Onyx and I demolished my bed into splinters because it wasn’t calibrated for 600 pounds of men fucking vigorously, Tony took a picture of the debris to use in the advertisements. “I would’ve included you two in the picture,” he said, “but by the end of the competition, I expect you two to be much, much bigger.” My clients craved me huge. They craved my slow, lumbering gait. They craved how small and light they were to me. They craved my giant cock and, if they could accommodate my size, my thorough fucking. Some craved to dominate the giant muscle man; some craved to be dominated by him. All craved me, and my tips reflected it. I was now so huge that I could, with minimal effort, wedge my bearded chin between my giant, hairy pecs. I was now so huge that I had to bend at the waist to see over them. I was now so huge that I could only walk at a deliberate, slow waddle or I’d trip over my own body. I was now so huge that I couldn’t rest my arms by my side when I stood; they were perpetually at an angle, my lats and biceps fighting for space. I was now so huge that my traps tickled my ears, that my unflexed biceps were bigger than my head, that each of my pecs was bigger than my average clients’ chests, that my ass was so big it felt bigger than some celestial objects. I was now so huge that every floorboard and piece of furniture groaned when I put my weight on it. I was now so huge that I was three times bigger than my smallest clients. I was now so huge that I was twice the size I was when I joined the pleasure house nearly 50 years ago, like there was a whole second Nile hanging off my body at all given times. I was huge. “Am I big enough now?” I asked Onyx in another moment of demotivation. It was just after our midnight snack. We’d started having those in Onyx’s room because Tony had preemptively bought him a new bed with a reinforced bedframe. I was still sleeping on a mattress on the floor; I refused to pay for a new bedframe, especially since Tony hadn’t gotten me a new shower door yet. Sleeping on the floor was comfortable enough, but it was a chore to get out of in the morning with all my bulk, especially considering how my weight had forged a valley in the middle of the mattress. As Onyx and I lay in postcoital bliss, all of his impressive brawn was lying on top of me, his face buried in the Alpine forest of my chest hair, his hand lazily stroking different parts of me, feeling my firmness, vascularity, size, and strength. “Not even close,” Onyx said. “We’re gonna get you so much bigger.” “I know what will motivate him,” Tony said, walking into Onyx’s room without knocking. Onyx’s whole body tensed, and he scrambled to get off me, but my heavy biceps were momentarily trapping him in place. My arms were locked in embrace around his taut waist (the only way I could still reach all the way around him), my fingers interlaced, holding him in place. His own bulk was impeding him further—he couldn’t reach the small of his back where my hands were because his broad lats and imposing biceps kept colliding into each other in his haste. “Tony!” Onyx said, still struggling to separate my hands. “You’re normally in bed by now. Let me get up.” “No need to stop on my account,” Tony said stiffly. Then, as if to cover his obvious displeasure, “You two make an unforgettable image.” “What do you want, Tony?” I asked impatiently. “To give a gift,” Tony answered, pulling a syringe of Red Miracle from his pocket. “Don’t you dare,” I said, inching away from him on the bed. “If it was for you, I would’ve gone to your room,” Tony said. “I paid top dollar for this. My Onyx is going to get it. A reward for being runner-up in the second round.” Onyx finally disentangled my fingers so he could clamber down off of me. When he got to Tony, he turned his round, overdeveloped shoulder to face him. “Thank you, Tony,” he said. “I love you.” “You love how I spoil you,” Tony said, injecting Onyx in the arm. “But that’s close enough for now.” He ran his free hand down Onyx’s pecs, over his cobblestone abs, and all the way down the length of his cock. “I’ll make you love me yet.” He squeezed Onyx’s cock territorially. “For real.” I saw Onyx feign a smile, then it looked like his eyes glazed over. He just stood there, like a mannequin—an incredibly muscular, hung mannequin with an erection, but a mannequin nonetheless. He was breathing, but he was barely blinking, and the look on his face remained unchanged. “He’ll come back to his senses soon,” Tony reassured himself. For a full three minutes, Onyx just stood there. Unable to wait any longer, Tony said, “Hello, Onyx,” while waving his hand in front of Onyx’s face. Onyx stood there. Tony tried again, this time shaking him. “Nixie? You in there?” “Nixie?” I asked. “It’s what I call him when we’re alone,” Tony explained. “Keep it that way,” I said. I finally got up and slowly trod over to where Onyx stood transfixed. “You in there, buddy?” Onyx blinked but said nothing. “In bed now,” I ordered. Moving robotically, Onyx went over to his bed and lay down. “What is happening?” Tony asked. “You’ve never taken the Red Miracle,” I said. “It’s a bitch of a drug. I have no memories from the week of my second dose.” “Okay, fine,” Tony started, “but you still acted semi-human even if you were stoned out of your mind.” “Barely.” “You kept your schedule and all of your appointments, you responded when you were spoken to. You gave me lip, just like you always do.” He looked at Onyx, and an expression of pain darkened his face. “I responded in grunts,” I interjected. “Talking back is talking back,” Tony said. “If Onyx is completely zonked out by his second dose…” “He’s still awake,” I said, pointing to him on the bed. Onyx’s eyes were fully open. “Give him a command.” Tentatively, Tony tried, “Onyx, get up and do five jumping jacks.” Onyx complied, the floor thundering every time his feet landed, his cock flapping and bouncing with the movement. Once finished, he just stood there, unmoving and barely blinking. “Get back into bed,” Tony commanded. I assessed the situation and said, “Yeah, he’s going to need to be told what to do every second of every day for as long as the Red Miracle is in his system.” “Why did this happen to him, but not you?” I shrugged. “If I were to guess, I’d say my tolerance is higher. I have 50 more years of mind-and-body-altering chemicals in my system.” Inspired, Tony suggested, “Maybe it’s like how dimefidone is twice as effective on you as other men.” “Could be,” I said. “Whatever the reason, Onyx is going to need to be chaperoned for the next week. Someone to tell him to eat, sleep, use the bathroom.” “Someone to tell him to go to his sessions.” “You’re not seriously going to make him do his sessions this week, are you?” I asked politely. I wanted to physically assault Tony, but I suppressed the urge. “Since we’ve started going niche, Onyx is our second most popular boy. Only you have a higher request rate,” Tony explained. Of course. It was essentially house policy. I’d seen Vera and Tina make men go to their sessions in casts, on crutches, with the flu, and after throwing out their backs. What’s sick leave? I thought Tony would make an exception for his favorite boy, but profit came first, even before love. I know an unwinnable fight when I see one. With a sigh, I said, “Then you might want to give his clients the heads up that they’ll have to order him around like an automaton. Some of them will even get a kick out of that.” “Right,” Tony said. There was a genuine look of concern on his face as he stared at Onyx, who was lying on his bed with his eyes open. “Nixie, go to sleep.” Onyx complied. Tony turned back to me and asked, “If I get one of the house workers to escort him everywhere else, will you take care of him in the cafeteria and gym, and put him to bed?” “Why me?” “You’re his accountability buddy, right? At least, that’s what he told me. You know what he needs to eat. What his workout routine is. How much sleep he needs.” “As his buddy, I think the best thing for him is a week off,” I insisted. “We both know that’s not happening,” Tony chuckled. “Fine,” I responded. Tony was only asking because he was worried about Onyx. When that passed and he remember he was my boss, he would have just ordered me to do it. “Onyx would want to make the most of this situation,” Tony said slyly. “What do you mean?” “Push him extra hard. Pump him full of hormones. Stuff him full of healthy food. Get him as big as you can while the Red Miracle works its wonders.” “That’s a bridge too far,” I said. “He should go to the gym because he’ll need to burn off the extra energy the Red Miracle is going to give him. But let’s not go crazy.” “Do it,” Tony ordered, finally remembering he was my boss. I wasn’t going to be pushed around so easily, though. “I have the specialty information here,” I reminded him. “What’s in it for me?” “A new bedframe,” Tony answered immediately. “I know you want one but won’t pay for one.” Traditionally, the house’s responsibilities include replacing old and outdated furniture. But, if I pointed that fact out, Tony could dismiss me with cause for destroying house property. “Deal,” I said, surprised I’d gotten anything in the deal. Besides, a voice at the back of my mind suspected Onyx would have wanted me to do as Tony asked, so I wasn’t going to overplay my hand. “Good. Then go to bed, boy,” he barked. “Tomorrow’s gonna be the start of a big week.” 26 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Louis24689383 Posted July 2, 2023 Share Posted July 2, 2023 If Onyx grows as much as last time on Red Miracle, he'd be 314.5 I so love your writing TQuintA. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TQuintA Posted July 3, 2023 Author Share Posted July 3, 2023 Chapter 23 When Onyx and his chaperone showed up in the cafeteria the next morning, I felt sick to my stomach. Agreeing to something in the middle of the night is not the same as doing it in the full light of day. “Eat, Onyx,” I said after placing his food in front of him. “What the fuck?” Krakatoa asked. I explained about Onyx’s second dose of the Red Miracle, and Slate and Krakatoa were visibly envious. “Lucky fucking duck,” Krakatoa said. “Really? You guys are jealous?” I asked. “Onyx, stop eating.” He complied. “Onyx, bark like a dog.” He complied. “Onyx, stop barking and finish your breakfast.” “Yeah, I’m still jealous,” Slate said. “You two each got a second dose. I haven’t even gotten one.” “He would have kept barking forever if I hadn’t told him to stop,” I pointed out. “I really don’t care,” Slate said. “Since I got seriously big, Rex has upped his appointments to every other day. Barking doesn’t bother me.” “Tony’s making him go to his sessions,” I said, barely disguising my displeasure. “Of course he is,” Slate said. “This is unconscionable,” I explained evenly. “Onyx couldn’t possibly consent to anything his clients have him do today.” “Consent?” Krakatoa laughed, nearly choking on his breakfast. “Bro, we’re pleasure boys. We consented when we signed up.” He said “consent” like it was a foreign word or some esoteric archaism. “This is different,” I said calmly. Strangely, I didn’t feel even the slightest need to lose my temper, even though the injustice was infuriatingly self-evident. “How?” Slate asked. “If a client asks him to do something dangerous or depraved…” I started, but Krakatoa interrupted me. “Don’t make me say it again. We’re pleasure boys.” “But if a client had him do something dangerous, he could stop the session,” I finished. “And immediately get dismissed,” Slate said. “This has to be different,” I said. “Why? Was it different for you during your second dose?” Slate asked. “Yes, it was,” I answered immediately. “How? You have no recollection of anything that happened that week,” Slate reminded me. “For all you know, every client you had made you do the most perverted, life-threatening things they could think of." "Fuck, that’s sick,” Krakatoa added, but he weirdly sounded turned on by it. “Even though I don’t have any memories,” I said, “I was still able to respond. Tony told me I gave lip and fought back. I could still make choices for myself.” “So, let’s talk about Onyx’s choices, then,” Slate continued. “What would he choose?” “We don’t know,” I said. “Not true, bro,” Krakatoa said. “He says it all the time. He wants to get bigger and more popular than you. We all do.” “And this will help him achieve that goal,” Slate said. Onyx’s plate was clean, and he just sat there, not moving. Surrendering to the collective will of the house, I got Onyx another plate of food and ordered him to eat it. He complied. When we went to the gym, I pushed him harder than I thought was humanly possible. More weight, more reps, more of everything. Every order I gave, he obeyed. Every correction I gave, he incorporated. No complaints, no backtalk, no words. It didn’t matter how much his muscles visibly strained, or how much pain colored his face, or how much sweat streamed into his eyes. If I had told him to lift a one-ton weight, he would’ve tried. Despite my gnawing conscience, I was a brutal taskmaster. That first day, I was so focused on Onyx’s workout that I was slacking off on my own. “No way,” Krakatoa said. “Onyx would never forgive us if we let you wussy out.” For the rest of the week, we worked out as a foursome. I ordered Onyx; they kept me honest. Krakatoa and Slate were as merciless as I was. Thankfully, with the Vibrall in my system, I could order Onyx around, meet the demands of Slate and Krakatoa, and still had energy left over for my clients. Over the course of the week, I grew inured to my complicity. Every time I overfed him, every time I pushed him at the gym, every time I injected him with his supplements (he was taking a lot of the green stuff for some reason), I felt a pang of guilt. I was essentially doing to Onyx what had been done to me. At first those pangs were strong and debilitating. By the end of the week, it was little more than a nagging thought. I did have my line in the sand, though. Tony insisted I keep fucking Onyx. He knew about the side effects of the yellow oil and that, combined with the dimefidone, Onyx’s libido would need to be satiated. Despite the fact that I knew Onyx was having sex with all his clients, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything sexual with a hollow shell of a man. But I also couldn’t directly contradict Tony. To resolve this, I would order Onyx to masturbate to climax any time we otherwise would’ve had sex. Then, once he was finished and out of my care, I’d bring my own self to a quick, unfulfilling climax, more to flush out the pipes than out of actual desire. To orgasm even faster, I’d often imagine my faceless stranger from the dream. Thinking of him always got me firing on all cylinders. Onyx slowly returned to himself in snips and snatches all week. A knowing glance here, a light behind his eyes there. On day 5 of his red haze, he said, “Full,” when I ordered him to have a second plate at dinner. He complied when I repeated the order, but it was good to see he was slowly becoming a person again. The following morning, when I told him to jack himself off, he looked at me forlornly and said, “Nile?” I repeated the order, and he looked even more hurt, saying, “Nile do.” The third time I gave the order, he obeyed. That whole day, he’d say a word or two of protest any time someone gave him an order. He’d ultimately comply, but he’d talk back first. As the week progressed, I saw the fruits of our labor. Onyx was seriously blowing up with beef. His clothes were getting smaller every day, sometimes comically tight on him. His muscles hewed in to sharper focus as they enlarged. His shoulders grew wider, his legs thicker, his steps heavier—everything about him was enlarging. And because Krakatoa, Slate, and I were all pushing each other, we were all getting bigger all week too. Krakatoa was growing the slowest, but even he was surging with power. Slate was practically exploding. Krakatoa put on a pound more than he anticipated; Slate packed on 3 more—and they’d both been aiming to put on a minimum of 5 pounds that week. At my Sunday weigh-in, I tilted the scales at 365.5 pounds. “Careful, Nile,” Slate teased, upset that I now outweighed him by closer to 80 pounds than 70. “The scales only go up to 400.” “Nonsense,” Tony said dismissively, escorting a house worker who was wheeling in a heavy-duty scale. “This baby is used to weigh livestock.” He slapped it affectionately. When Onyx heard Tony’s voice, he stepped behind me like a shy child who was hiding behind his father’s leg. “I see Onyx is waking up,” Tony said, undaunted. “Hello, Tony,” Onyx said. “I’m awake. I’m completely awake.” “Congrats,” I said to him. “You got his first complete sentences of the week.” “Then he can be the first person to use our new scale,” Tony said exultantly. Tentatively, Onyx stepped on the scale. He had just returned to himself, so he hadn’t taken in all the changes to his body yet. When he saw the number, he was immediately hard. “314 pounds,” Onyx said. “Just yesterday…” “A week ago,” Slate corrected. Onyx continued as if he’d never been interrupted. “I was about ten pounds under 300. Now I’m about 10 pounds over.” “Thank Nile,” Krakatoa said. “He pushed you all week.” “Nile?” Onyx said, turning around to see me. He saw my body bulging with 14 extra pounds of beef. To him, it was seemingly instantaneous. I had taken the slow way around, so I saw my muscles steadily inflate every day. “You look huge.” “Look who’s talking,” I said. “Have you seen your pecs? Your arms? You’re bodybuilder big, buddy.” “Nile, your room, now.” “Nile?” Tony said, disappointed. “I’ll fuck you later, Tony. Right now, I need to thank Nile.” “I gave him a new bedframe,” Tony said as Onyx and I left the gym holding hands. “That’s plenty thanks.” We would’ve run, but our bodies were too massive for that plan to be conducive. When we got back to my room, he slammed the door shut. He wasn’t used to his new strength, so the door almost cracked the frame. “How big is my cock?” he asked. “I haven’t been measuring it,” I said honestly. Onyx, who was still fully erect from the revelation that he was well over 300 pounds, pulled out my fabric ruler and said, “Measure me now.” I placed the ruler against his throbbing, leaking cock. I slowly kneeled down so I’d have unfettered, unobstructed access to his rock hard cock. “9.5 inches,” I informed him. Quivers of pleasure went up and down his spine when he heard that number. “I need to cum, now!” he said forcefully. I clamped my mouth around his cock and began sucking. Mere moments later, he was spewing forth a copious amount of seed from his enlarged balls. Once I’d swallowed every drop, Onyx leaned over his heaving shelf of hairy pecs to stare at me, the muscle monster who’d just blown him. “Thanks, Nile,” he said. “Thanks for pushing me while I was away.” “I’m glad that’s your attitude,” I said. “I felt skeevy all week.” “Why?” he asked innocently. “You weren’t here, even if your body was. You couldn’t really say no to anything I told you to do.” “I trust you.” “You couldn’t say no to anything anyone told you to do,” I informed him. “Tony made you go to all your sessions.” “Of course he did,” Onyx said matter-of-factly. Then, he led me back to his bed. “Now that we’ve gotten the emergency over with, let me fuck you nice and slow with my giant more-than-nine-inches cock and immense more-than-three-hundred-bulging-pounds muscles.” I had topped men more muscular than Onyx (such as Fred), but with all his stats combined, Onyx was officially the biggest man I had ever bottomed for. He had a huge cock, incredible definition, and a fuckload of muscle. Maybe it’s because he was a trained pleasure boy, maybe it’s because he had genuine affection for me and wanted to thank me, maybe it was because he was unaccustomed to his new size but was still a seasoned pro. Regardless of why, the fuck that Onyx gave me was a duet of contradictions. Even as he braced himself, on arm on either side of my absurdly broad shoulders, so he could go slow and gentle, I could feel his weight avalanche into me as his cock careened into my waiting hole. He insisted that he be on top, but every step of the way he waited for my guidance and instruction. He caringly kissed the back of my neck between thrusts, but I also felt like I was being carelessly pummeled by a clumsy oaf. His cock was like a piledriver as it hurdled past my prostrate, but every time it did, it rang the pleasure centers of my brain. His mass pressing down on me was both oppressive and welcoming. His touch was both tentative and confident. His demeanor both patient and insistent. I was spraying cum in a firehose of delight before he ever reached his climax. When he saw that I had finished before him, he picked up his speed. In between each thrust, he would either kiss my neck or say something sweet and affirmative. Thrust. Kiss. Thrust. “You’re so beautiful.” Thrust. Kiss. Thrust. “I am so grateful to you.” Thrust. Kiss. Thrust.. “You’re perfect.” After a few minutes of this, his rhythm became erratic and his speed more frenetic. Then he came, deep inside me. “Best way to start a morning,” he purred as he pulled out of me and lay by my side, cavalierly playing with my chest hair and nipples. “Kid, it’s almost time for first lunch,” I corrected him. “Good,” he said, giving me a peck on the cheek. “I’m starving.” 25 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mdlftr Posted July 3, 2023 Share Posted July 3, 2023 I don't know what to say, honestly! Nile and Onyx and all of them are so unbelievably big and muscular, and Tony is so clearly treating them like living assets on a balance sheet, that I can't see where this is going to go! I would assume a revolution of the muscle-monster-pleasure-boy proletariat would occur at some point here, but they all lack any sense of self identity or boundaries outside of the system they're in. Congrats to TQuintA for creating a dystopian muscular universe where I'm thinking of revolution rather than reps, blood in the streets rather than bulging biceps and massive retribution rather than massive, muscular bodies!! https://www.google.com/search?q=the+marseille&rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS916US916&oq=the+marseille&aqs=chrome..69i57.9174j0j1&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:ca943e24,vid:215W-29Gt7s 3 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arpeejay Posted July 4, 2023 Share Posted July 4, 2023 10 hours ago, Mdlftr said: I don't know what to say, honestly! Nile and Onyx and all of them are so unbelievably big and muscular, and Tony is so clearly treating them like living assets on a balance sheet, that I can't see where this is going to go! I would assume a revolution of the muscle-monster-pleasure-boy proletariat would occur at some point here, but they all lack any sense of self identity or boundaries outside of the system they're in. Congrats to TQuintA for creating a dystopian muscular universe where I'm thinking of revolution rather than reps, blood in the streets rather than bulging biceps and massive retribution rather than massive, muscular bodies!! https://www.google.com/search?q=the+marseille&rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS916US916&oq=the+marseille&aqs=chrome..69i57.9174j0j1&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:ca943e24,vid:215W-29Gt7s Nile's tits are bigger. Onyx's, too! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jwood Posted July 4, 2023 Share Posted July 4, 2023 This is starting to remind me of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," only this might be "One Grew Larger than an Ostrich" 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Louis24689383 Posted July 4, 2023 Share Posted July 4, 2023 So round 2 should be just about finished. With two more rounds, and this intrepid trio keeping themselves and Nile on a path of constant growth, those scales are not what I worry about. That reinforced bed though... Better be concrete reinforced. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post TQuintA Posted July 4, 2023 Author Popular Post Share Posted July 4, 2023 Chapter 24 On Tuesday (two days after Onyx re-emerged from his red haze), the second round ended. Tony spent most of that morning meeting venting his frustration. Only 29 men had completed all four goals. A dozen or so men had completely failed to meet the four goals of the second round but hadn’t left the house of their own accord. Another 6 had all finished three of the four goals and were precipitously close to finishing the fourth, but hadn’t done so by the deadline. Tony, furious, dismissed the dozen unsuccessful men from the house and gave the 6 who were on the bubble an extension. Whoever completed the round first would get to stay; the other 5 would be dismissed. The third round would start on Sunday morning. If none of them had finished the round by then, all 6 would be dismissed. “I got him to accept that compromise,” Onyx said, thumping his thumb on his impressively thick chest, bringing his extra-large bicep into sharper relief. “I reminded him that he told us 30 men would make it through to the third round and that he doesn’t break his word.” The words were weirdly hollow even though I could tell Onyx was proud of himself. I caught Tony after the morning meeting and reminded him that he and I had a deal, that I was automatically through to the final 11 boys even if I sat on my giant, muscular ass and did nothing. “I haven’t forgotten,” Tony said. “But I’m pretty sure by first lunch, you’re going to want to compete in the third and fourth rounds.” “Why so confident?” I asked. As soon as I’d finished the question, the seldom-used PA system crackled into life. The voice of Tony’s receptionist rang out throughout the house. “Nile, there’s a visitor for you in Tony’s office.” I looked at Tony dubiously. “Visitor? It’s not Visitors’ Day.” “It is not,” Tony said. I towered over him, leveraging my height and indomitable size to try to intimidate him. “Is this a trap?” Unintimidated, Tony condescendingly pat my shoulder. “Boy, if this were a trap, I wouldn’t have had it announced over the PA.” “Who is it?” I demanded. With a sly shrug, Tony said, “My receptionist didn’t say. Go find out.” I left Tony and went to his office. The receptionist opened the door and told me to go inside. Sitting at the chair opposite Tony’s desk and facing away from the door was a man of about 60 or 70 with a bald spot on the back of his head. His hair was graying, but it clearly had been light brown in his youth, and it still retained some of that coloration. When he heard my bulk squeeze through the door, he turned around and smiled. His luxuriously brown eyes lit up when he saw me, crinkling kindly at the corners. His broad smile was warm, wide, and familiar. He displayed a set of beautifully white teeth. Still smiling, he stood up, revealing his somewhat short frame. I could tell he used to be muscular himself, and he was still quite fit, especially for a man his age, but he was just regularly fit now. “Miss me?” he asked. That voice—that smoky, sultry voice. The voice that sounded like a melody with every word he spoke. I’d know that voice anywhere. “Colorado?” I responded tentatively. He nodded simply. I raced the final two steps, not caring if I tripped over my own bulk, and picked him up in my arms and showered him in kisses. “Damn, you got huge,” he said, chuckling happily. “You got small,” I retorted. “I’m 70,” he said. “Forgive me.” I put him down, not letting go of his arms, and just stared at his face. He still looked like Colorado, even with all the years added to his appearance. “Seriously,” he said, self-evidently aroused and impressed. “You got huge. You were never this big when I worked here.” He knocked on my chest and caressed my arm. “It looks gorgeous on you.” Then, he moved his left hand to hover above my bugling crotch. “And this definitely wasn’t this big the last time I saw you. I’d remember if it was.” “I’m so glad you’re here!” I said. “I’m so glad to see you.” “I’ve missed your voice,” I replied. Softly, he sang the chorus of a love song in a hushed tone. It sounded familiar, but I was more focused on the divinity of his voice than the song itself. Oh, how I loved Colorado’s voice. When he finished, I asked, “Did Tony find you?” For a moment, he looked like he had expected a different reaction from me. Then, he asked, “Vera’s brat? Why would he have found me?” “He runs the house now,” I said. “I know that,” Colorado said. “He’s the one who gave me permission to see you today. But only because it serves his agenda. Tony’s incapable of being nice.” “So, who did find you?” Colorado shook his head. “I’d never met him before. This filthy rich guy named Edward.” “Edward?” I asked. “I assumed he was a client of yours.” “He is,” I agreed, leaving out the fact that I spent more time with Edward’s husband. “Edward found me and greased the wheels. He would’ve found me weeks ago, but he only knew me as Colorado.” I nodded. “He guessed my real name might be Gavin. Is it against the rules to say the real names of former pleasure boys now?” “No. I just don’t know your real name.” “It’s Gavin Rierdon,” he said. “You should know that. We traded our real names during tryouts to get into this house.” “I must’ve forgotten it,” I said flatly. “We called each other by our real names in secret when we made love.” “I must’ve forgotten that too.” “Something’s wrong.” Gavin sounded worried, even scared. He took a closer look in my eyes to reappraise me. “You weren’t even a little hurt or angry when you saw me. You didn’t recognize our song. You don’t know my name.” Now he sounded hurt. Like I was breaking his heart. “What is wrong with you?” “Nothing,” I said. “It’s so good to see you again,” I added. Gavin pulled himself out of my embrace and backed up a few steps, as if afraid for our safety. “You pressed mute,” he said, astonished. “I don’t know what that means,” I responded. “That just proves it,” he said. To himself, he added, “If that’s how you greeted me after pressing mute, I can only imagine how you would’ve greeted me without it.” I stared blankly. “What’s pressing mute?” “There’s a very effective mood stabilizer in the pharmacy. A watery green liquid. If you take it in high enough doses, you don’t really feel your own emotions. I called it pressing mute because it helped me survive this prison. You did not like it when I pressed mute.” “I take the green liquid all the time,” I informed him. “To help with my muscle growth.” “It doesn’t help with muscle growth, love. It somewhat hurts muscle growth, actually.” He shook his head. “The green stuff stops you from feeling too intensely. You refused to take it when I was here. It suppresses your emotions. You still feel them, kinda. But if they would’ve been a 20, they’re now a 2.” “Okay, so I’ve been taking a mood stabilizer.” “The pharmacist warned us not to abuse it. It’s fine to numb the pain for a few days here and there, but not forever. When you take too much, you lose access to deeply painful memories. They’re still there, but they’re behind a green fog. If you take it too long… you might lose them permanently.” I was confused, so I said nothing. Point blank, Gavin asked, “What were the last words I said to you before I left this place?” “I don’t remember,” I answered honestly. “How often do you take the green stuff?” “Every day,” I answered bluntly. “It’s part of my standard stack in my hormone regulator.” “What were you thinking?” He sounded angry and concerned and hurt and scared. The loudest emotion was concerned. “You could’ve done permanent brain damage!” “Well, you abandoned me!” I said automatically. The words came out evenly, despite the fact that I was feeling a deep anger unlike any I had ever felt before. And I had no idea why I’d said that. The words had just escaped my throat without my brain processing them. “You abandoned me!” he fired back, sounding as angry as I felt. “You were supposed to come with me.” “Fine. I’m not waiting for you.” I didn’t mean to say anything; those words just vomited out of my mouth. Then it hit me. “Those were the last words you said to me before you left the house.” Gavin raced over and threw his arms as far around me as he could. “Thank goodness. Your memories are still there. You didn’t fry your brain after all.” I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “You wrote that song for me,” I said, suddenly recognizing the song he’d sung. “You used to sing it to me on nights I couldn’t fall asleep.” “We sang it together, too, when we were feeling romantic,” he corrected. “You’re the better singer. Your voice is sublime,” I stated matter-of-factly. “You said you’d come with me.” “It’s too beautiful here,” I said, but it felt more like an echo. “The money’s too good.” “You said all of this then,” he replied, still holding me tight. I felt a fear, familiar but remote, seize my heart. “Who would I even be out there? What could I even do? What would I even be good for?” I asked these questions quickly as a tremor filled my voice. “Is that why you stayed?” Gavin asked, looking up to meet me eye to eye. “You’re the love of my life. You’re good for me.” “You could’ve stayed,” I said. “Vera wanted me out. I was a lawless rulebreaker.” “She could never pin anything on you,” I countered. “I broke every rule I could,” he insisted. “It’s only because of you that Vera even kept me those last two years. I was nothing but trouble to her, she never liked sharing you with me, and by the end, I was hemorrhaging clients.” Another memory came back to me. “The day you served your 25, you took me to the gym, and we made love by the stationary bikes. One last time before you left, and you told me you wanted to marry me." "You said you wouldn’t. Not before you served your 50.” “Then you told me that you wouldn’t wait for me.” Gavin looked wounded, as though I had charged him with a crime for which he was guilty. “I was hurt and angry. I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t leave with me.” “Did you wait for me?” I asked hopefully. “No,” Gavin admitted, shaking his head, still that guilty tone in his voice. “Three months after I left this place, I married a woman named Felicia, a former pleasure girl who’d been dismissed after four years. With my half-pension, I bought a house with a big backyard and a spare bedroom.” I could tell now that the green stuff really did suppress emotions. I wanted to cry, I knew my heart was shattering, but it somehow felt manageable, like it was happening far away or to someone else. “I’m glad you found someone to replace me,” I said as cheerfully as I could fake, pulling away from him instinctively Gavin made a shushing noise and moved back in close with me, no trace of guilt remaining in his voice. “I could never replace you. The marriage only lasted six weeks because she wanted kids and I wanted you.” “Okay,” I said, reassured. “And after that? It’s been almost 25 years.” “I wasn’t a monk,” Gavin said smoothly. “I had my fun. Some men. Some women. Nothing deep or serious. I never stopped loving you, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s why I never came on Visitors’ Day. I didn’t want to break my heart all over again.” I couldn’t fully process that admission, so instead I asked, “What did you do to occupy your time?” “I wrote you about a thousand songs,” he said, blushing. “And slowly turned my guest room into a library.” “So, when I finish my 50, we can…” I stopped myself. “Even though I’m…” “We’ll buy a bigger bed for us,” he said. “You don’t care that I didn’t leave with you?” “At first I did,” he explained, “but my marriage fizzled out because I missed you too much. After that, it was easier to pine from afar than hate you.” He tried to give me a bear hug, but he couldn’t get his arms around my impossibly thick chest. “You don’t care that I’m so much bigger than you?” I asked. “Oh, love, no. You were always bigger than me. Plus, you look indescribably hot like this. Besides, Tony told me everything.” “Tony explained the competition to you?” Gavin nodded knowingly. “And that you’ll get a double pension if you win.” “Are you saying…?” “It’s why I was allowed to visit. Tony knows your resolve is weakening. I’m here to tell you to win this thing. Get fucking huge. Grow those muscles so big that I have to bathe you and feed you. Get so hung I can never bottom again—we both prefer it when I top, anyways. I’d love you at any size, but after what this place did to us, I think we both deserve you to be a mountain of a man.” “That’s all I need to hear.” The receptionist knocked on the office door. “One minute, boys.” “Before I go, you have to promise me one thing,” Gavin said. “Anything.” “Stop taking that green stuff. Today. This instant. You’ll feel your emotions fully again. You’ll remember me fully again.” With a wink in his voice he added, “And the yellow stuff will be more effective." “I promise.” He kissed me, and I felt my heart flutter. “I love you, Gavin.” “I love you…” I could tell he was going to say my real name, so I put my hand over his mouth to stop him. “Don’t say my real name until I can say it too.” The receptionist opened the door. “Time’s up, boys.” With a deep, passionate kiss, Gavin said goodbye. 30 7 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
HawkShark Posted July 4, 2023 Share Posted July 4, 2023 What an amazing chapter and the promise that someone knows Nile's true name. I cant wait to read more! As always masterfully done TQuintA! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arpeejay Posted July 4, 2023 Share Posted July 4, 2023 Outstanding addition to a fabulous series. And now Nile has a reason to win and to grow even faster than before! Thanks! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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