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omg please post it this story was so great I was sad Omiganda stopped giving updates :< This story was one of the very first stories that started my fetish for giga giant gods and planetary fucking lol

Hi guys. This is something a bit different from me. When I finished writing my “Muscle Lads, Inc.” story I knew I didn’t want to jump into writing another big story so I started playing around with some ideas I had for short stories and before I knew it I had two/three in the works which gave me the idea to put them all into one thread and create a little collection of short stories. There are six stories, all featuring characters from my previous stories - to some extent! They all vary slightly in terms of size. Some, like the first one below, are just one part stories shared in one go. Others are slightly longer and will be spread across two/three posts. This first story features Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy from “Muscle Lads, Inc.”...   THE BODYBUILDER ON THE TRAIN I knew tonight I knew tonight would be a letdown. All day I've been having the recurring thought that I wasn’t really in the mood to go out tonight. But then I told myself that once the night came, once I’d got back from the gym and I was pumped up and I’d had a couple of drinks which I’m now allowed to do since I’m not training for a show, that I’d feel differently. That when the time actually came to go out, I’d be in the mood.  And that did happen, back in the flat. But now that I’m here, my first night at Utopia in two months, I’m just not feeling it. The stares and looks and attention my bare, abnormally muscular torso, just a few weeks post competing in the biggest amateur bodybuilding show in the North West, is bringing me aren't having the same effect as they usually do.  Maybe it’s the crowd. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe, after six months of coming here, the novelty has finally worn off. But something about tonight feels off and I can’t shake the feeling that I should’ve just stayed at home. Or maybe - just maybe, in the back of my head, I’m thinking about what happened the last time I was here. The guy I met. And everything that happened afterwards. All of that fucking mess. All of it down to me.  I look at my watch. If I leave now I can get the last tram home. When I tilt my head back up I spot someone looking directly at me from across the room. He has a shaved head. I’m guessing late twenties. Maybe early thirties. And okay, he’s no bodybuilder but he’s pretty built. His light pink t-shirt is hugging his impressive chest and showing off his thick biceps. And wow. He’s fucking handsome. Gorgeous eyes. Almost smoulderingly sexy. And there’s a confidence there that I like. Sure - cute, slightly nerdy, awkward lads who have NO idea how fucking sexy they are get my juices going too, but there’s no denying how sexy good old-fashioned confidence is too. There’s no doubt this mystery clubgoer is the hottest guy I’ve seen here tonight. Even hotter than the beautiful Brazilian barman with the little abs who always sort of flirts with me but seems a bit guarded. The mystery admirer tilts his head forward in a little nod. Maybe tonight isn’t such a loss after all. Should I go to him or wait for him to come to me? Yeah - he can come to me. Come to fucking daddy. And then - out of nowhere, another guy walks up to him. Taller. Even more muscular. He puts his hand around my admirer’s torso and the two of them kiss. Potential threesome maybe?  But then they part lips and the way my admirer looks at the tall guy tells me there’s something more than just a casual thing going on there. There are clearly feelings involved. And I sure as hell don’t want to get mixed up in anything like that. I look at the time on my watch again and feel the overwhelming need to be at home in bed. Alone. Along with the desire to wake up tomorrow feeling human. To make up tomorrow alone. And it strikes me that that’s exactly how I want this night to end. The last train home is typically busy. I internally groan when a bunch of drunken lads get on after a few stops. These are the type of lads who are usually brave enough to talk to me. Or comment about how jacked and muscular I am. To ask me about training or bodybuilding shows. Or maybe even steroids. Especially when it’s a Saturday night and they’re pissed up. I bury myself in my phone hoping that doesn’t happen. That no drunken lads pipe up and start commenting about the bodybuilder on the train. I know it's all done out of curiosity. And usually out of respect. Maybe even out of a deep, primal longing to be this big and muscular themselves. But I’m really not in the mood for that right now. My stop comes up and I stand up in anticipation and then it happens. One of the drunken lads bravely shouts, “Steroids”. I don’t turn around but I can’t help but instinctively smirk. And now I feel a dozen eyes on me. Will the attention my body brings me ever get old? Will it ever lose its effect? Yeah - I’m a bodybuilder. Yeah - I’m huge. Yeah - I’m a pocket rocket muscle daddy with huge arms and bulbous pecs. Get the fuck over it, lads. But also - keep staring. Keep being envious. Keep wondering what it’s like to be THIS huge and muscular.  I’m still smirking to myself and preoccupied with my thoughts as the train stops and the doors slide open and … fuck. What. The fuck. All previous thoughts are gone. Time has suddenly stopped. Because standing right in front of me on the platform, looking right at me, with a startled expression, ready to step onto this train is a fellow brother in iron. Another muscle freak who has dedicated his life to being a bodybuilder. And when I say a bodybuilder, I fucking MEAN a bodybuilder. He’s about my age. He’s completely bald. He’s got these veins at the side of his head. And to contrast with the bald head is a hot as fuck ginger moustache and an even hotter ginger beard. And okay - he’s not knock you around the head handsome. But who needs to be handsome when you just fucking OOZE sexiness like this fellow bald bodybuilder does. And even though he’s covered up by a black baggy hoodie with Pitbull Gym (Bolton’s most hardcore bodybuilding gym) printed on the front, I can tell this guy is a tank and a fucking half. Why have I never seen this guy before? It feels like time has paused. I’m not moving. He’s not moving. We’re just staring at each other. Me and this fellow mystery bodybuilder. His mouth curls into a smirk and somehow, in that moment, I just know. That this guy is like me in more ways than one.  He steps on the train. There’s a moment where we’re side by side. And I feel this instant chemistry. This instant spark. Just from being close to his body. Damn. This guy is so fucking hot. I step off the train and onto the platform and I hear him speak. “Are you sure you wanna get off?” he purrs in a deep tone in a thick Irish accent which completely takes me by surprise. As if this guy wasn’t sexy enough. I turn to face him. His eyes locked with me. The sound which indicates the doors are about to close chimes and in a split-second decision, I jump back onto the train. Next to the Irish, ginger bearded hot as fuck bodybuilder who’s now giving me the sexiest of grins as he looks at me. And damn - there’s that chemistry again. Like a heat radiating between us.  “I’m Vince,” he says to me. “Lads - there’s two of them!” one of the drunken lads calls.  Vince spins his head around. “All right, fellas!” he shouts.  “Come on, lads - flex those guns!” Vince looks at me, grinning in amusement and I smile back. “I'm Mason,” I tell him. He casually nods and looks up at the poster banner above us. “Nice to put a name to the face,” he says mysteriously, without looking at me. My stomach twists. My first thought is - what does this guy know about me? He locks eyes with me again. “Tiger Classic North West last month?” I find myself smirking. “Did you compete as well?” “No. I was just in the audience.” And he remembered me? All of the competitors in that show, all of the huge freaks and hot shredded lads and this guy remembered me. I nod, feeling smug and like the power is in my hands. He gives me this ominous smirk and shakes his head and I feel like he’s read my fucking mind. “Where’s your stop, by the way?” I ask him. “Dunno, lad,” he says, looking straight ahead. “I guess you’ll find out.” I bark out a laugh and he looks at me and grins. Why do I suddenly feel like I’ve met my match? Excitement courses through me as we look each other in the eye. God - the energy between me and this guy. It’s crazy. Just being stood next to his huge tank of a body I’m rock hard. God only knows what’s going on under that hoodie. As it turns out Vince’s stop is only two away from mine. “Is Pitbull your usual gym?” I ask him as he leads me to his place on foot. “Yeah.” “Oh right. Bit far to go from here, isn’t it?” Vince smiles. “Been going there for years. It’s just what I’m used to. I did give The Muscle Factory a go but it’s a bit too fancy for me.” I find myself smiling at that. A man after my own heart. I briefly consider suggesting he come to Panthers. But it feels a tad … much. This is just a hot bodybuilder I met on the train and whose flat I’m now walking into. Besides, getting involved with another guy is the last fucking thing I need or want right now. “Do you want a drink or anything?” Vince asks me as we head into his living room. What I want is for this hot handsome bald ginger-bearded tank of a muscle bull to fuck my fucking brains out. As hard as he damn well likes. I tell him I’m good. Vince’s mouth curls as he looks me up and down. We’re both standing looking at each other.  “You’re so fucking sexy, Mason,” he purrs in his thick Irish accent. “And boy, don’t you know it.” Ha. He’s got my number all right. But I think I can still surprise him. “Mason’s my surname, by the way,” I say, stepping forward to the muscle tank in the black Pitbull Gym hoodie. “Andy’s my first name,” I tell him, edging even closer. Here it comes. “But you can call me Sir.” Vince barks out this raucous laugh. “Get to fuck!” he cries.  The reaction takes me back so much I can’t help but laugh in return. And now we’re standing close to each other. His heavy mass right before me. This strong, masculine scent. A mix of sweat and aftershave and his natural scent. The scent of a sexy as fuck bearded muscle bull. With veins in his head. So fucking intoxicating. So fucking horny.  His hands slip around my back and fuck - my lips are on his. Kissing each other hard. His tongue is so fucking big. Like the rest of him. My mass pushes up against his. My crotch against his. His bears tickles my chin. I’m so fucking hard. I'm kissing Vince harder. With more force. My body pushing up against his. Two roided muscle bulls kissing hard. So much pent-up energy.  He lifts up my t-shirt with his big rough hands. And now I’m topless. My pumped up, master's over 40 class bodybuilding torso on naked display. “Fuuuck,” Vince purrs as he takes in the balloons of muscle before him. His hand goes gently to my pillow pecs. And then he squeezes. His grip getting firmer and rougher. His face in awe. Taking in my huge, balloon-like pecs. Then down to my sticky out bubble abs on my slight turtle shell roid gut I’m most definitely proud of. Because who doesn’t love a roid gut? I reach over and unzip Vince’s hoodie. Underneath I see two massive pecs separated by a deep line hanging over the top of a white vest. Fuck yes. He peels off his hoodie to reveal two brutal shoulders. I almost gasp at the sheer size and hardness of them. Now this. THIS is a fucking bodybuilder. Biceps for days. Huge and veiny. I lift up his vest to reveal his hard shredded six pack. Blocky and square. Everything’s so brutal. Everything’s so hard.  Vince kneels down and undoes my belt buckle. I squeeze his bull-like traps and Jeez - I feel like I'm gonna cum. I squeeze his otherworldly shoulders and he yanks down my jeans and swallows my thick throbbing cock with his big mouth and oh my fucking God. I resist the urge to shout out, “Good boy”. Because this is no boy I’m dealing with. He’s fucking worshipping my cock with his hot muscle bull mouth. I don’t think I’ve even been sucked harder. We stumble into Vince’s bedroom. Barely able to keep our hands off each other. And now we’re on his bed. Both naked. Still kissing hard. Hands going everywhere. He’s kissing my pecs. Fucking sucking on the muscle. My fingers exploring every inch of his brutal muscle bull body. He starts to tense. To flex. He starts to grunt too. Hot, deep grunts as he flexes. Biceps squeezing. Traps erupting. Veins exploding. A private show from a bald ginger bearded muscle bull. And all the time I’m dying to cum. “You like getting fucked?” Vince asks me.  “Fuck yeah!”  “Good lad!” he purrs in his hot Irish accent. He fetches some lube and a condom and now he’s mounting me. His hard, heavy mass on top of me. His hot face close to mine. And then he pushes in. Fuck. I’m being fucked by this insanely hot bodybuilder. With his brutal shoulders. And bull traps. And thick veiny pecs. “Flex those fucking muscles," I cry out.  He laughs and brings his biceps up, his face contorting and twisting and transforming as he gets into beast mode. As if he were on stage, bronzed and shredded in his posing trunks. He lets out a little growl.  “Growl louder!” I bark as he fucks me. And he obeys.  “GRRRR!”  “LOUDER!” I shout.  And he does. Deep, animalistic grunts and growls fill up my ears as this hot ginger bearded muscle brute fucks me and fills up my hole. I’m. Gonna. Fucking. Cum. Out of nowhere, Vince suddenly falls forward, bringing his face to mine and kissing me with force. His mass against my torso. Our hard tongues dancing with each other. His lips pull away.  ‘I’m close!” I pant out.  I plant my lips on his again. Hard like before. I feel like I’m close to cumming and then … the motion of his tongue changes. He’s still kissing me. But this time it’s slower.  Vince pulls back and looks me in the eyes. This intense look. He’s still filling up my hole. I’m still so close to cumming. He kisses me again. But softer. Slower. More sensual. I don’t know what’s happening but I’m going with it. I’m following his lead. The atmosphere has changed. Things feel more intense. Our eyes are open and locked as our mouths move and I can feel the build-up coming. It’s coming. This is so fucking intense. This is so fucking horny. This is not how I imagined this would go but I'm completely into it.  We’re locked in our own little world of muscle and mass. Slowly and sensually kissing this beautiful muscle bull. And fuuuckkk … I’m groaning and panting into his mouth as my cock explodes. The most intense orgasm.  I want to melt into Vince's sweaty skin. I feel like I am. Me and this beautiful muscle man in our private haven. I’m griping hard. Still kissing him. The taste of him. The smell of him. The feel of his hard, roided muscle mass as my body explodes with cum. “I think I’ll be catching that train more often,” Vince jokes as we’re wrapped around each other naked a little later on, having both cum. “Where were you heading back from, anyway?” “Have you heard of Utopia?” “Is that a bar?” “It’s a club night.” Vince’s mouth curls into a mischievous smirk. “Clubbing at your age?” he teases. I laugh. “Cheeky bastard.” I look away from him, still gripping onto his insanely huge arms. “Fair point though. I guess you could say I’m making up for lost time,” I tell him, surprising myself at my honesty. “What do you mean?” I look at Vince. He sees so earnest in that moment. So weirdly trustworthy. Even though I don’t know this guy. Even though I only met him a fucking hour and a half ago. I still can’t get over that feeling when he made me cum. The atmosphere in the room. How he slowed everything down right before I came. Making everything so much more intense. So much more passionate I guess. “I didn’t really do much clubbing in my twenties,” I tell him, casually. “Were you in that closet?” I instinctively laugh. “That’s an understatement.” Vince looks at me, waiting for me to explain. “I was married to a woman.” “Fuck off!” he cries. He studies my face. “Wow!” he says, when he realises I’m telling the truth. “Are you bisexual?” I shake my head.  “Did you know you were gay?” “I think so. In the back of my head. It just wasn’t really an option though. My dad was like the hard man of the estate. And I was always such a typical lad. Always into sports. Did my first bodybuilding show at sixteen. And I know - that’s nothing to do with being gay, but - I didn’t think that at the time. The idea of being gay - it was just so alien to me. The thought of it, you know?” He nods. “I struggled a bit too, to be honest. I didn’t go as far as to marry a woman though. What changed?” “My dad died for a start. And I think I just stopped running from the thought of it. Faced up to the fact I liked blokes. It was tough though.” “Any kids with your wife?” “No. Luckily.” Vince pauses for a moment and looks out to the room. “Jesus. I haven’t been clubbing for about ten years.” A laugh escapes my lips. “Mmmm. I think I have more fun now than I would have done back then, anyway. Although … tonight was a bit of a bust.” “Is it a gay night? Or should we be saying queer?” “Queer. I still can’t get used to that. Always felt like such an insult. But yeah. It was.” Vince's lips curl into an ominous smirk. “Bet you get a lot of attention!” I mischievously smile at him. “What do you think?” His smirk grows wider before he releases a little laugh. “Bet you don’t get many bodybuilders in there though.” “You'd be surprised,” I say.  Vince’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “The last time I went I pulled a bodybuilder. Well … he was more classic physique.” “See - I would’ve turned my nose up at that ten years ago but some of these classic physique guys now are fucking incredible. Would I have heard of this guy?” Do I tell Vince that Nick also competed at the North West Championships last month he was in the audience of? He may even remember him. The cute blonde guy who wore his glasses on stage with a pair of shiny pink trunks who kept sticking his tongue out which the crowd loved, even though he wasn’t the biggest of guys. I find myself smiling at the memory of seeing all of the pictures and videos of Nick on the Internet afterwards. A rare occasion where I actually did check Instagram. It's safe to say the boy did good. Even if everything went to shit backstage at that very show. “You got Instagram?” I ask Vince. “Course,” he says, reaching for his phone and passing it to me. I type in the name Nick and feel ashamed that I can’t remember his surname. How do I find Nick? My first thought is through Jason’s profile, but I’m not sure if he’d be following Nick after what happened. I type in a name I definitely won’t be forgetting in a hurry. Danny King. I scroll through his posts and bingo - there’s Nick, backstage in his shiny black classic physique trunks and his cute geeky glasses. Standing next to Danny, doing a peace sign and smiling into the camera with his cute little face.  I genuinely felt affection for Nick. I really did. It wasn’t just the sex. (And boy - that lad could fuck.) I just liked being around him. His energy. That innocent, boyish, slightly awkward energy. I could’ve pushed it further with Nick. Seen him more often. But something held me back. Maybe I was scared he’d start to develop feelings for me. And then, of course, there was the whole Jason thing. Which I still feel guilty about. If I didn’t feel guilty - I think that would be cause for concern. I think that would make me a fucking sociopath. “Are you on Instagram?” Vince asks as I bring up Nick’s profile, which doesn’t even have his name on it.  “Nah. I can’t be doing with that shit. Everyone glued to their phones. Posting every five minutes. It pisses me off.” Vince laughs. “Okay, grandad.” I smile as I hand Vince his phone back with Nick’s Instagram profile on the screen. His eyes widen when he looks at the screen. “Twenty-two?!” he cries. I mischievously grin. “Yep!” “Don’t tell me you made him call you daddy?” “No. Just sir.” “Pfft!” Vince says, before laughing. “He’s handsome, I'll give you that. I think I’d eat him for breakfast though,” he says, putting his phone back on his bedside table. “I don’t think he’d complain about that.” Vince laughs as he wraps his arms around me tight and looking me in the eye. Things suddenly feel intense again. “Twenty-two,” he purrs again. “Is that unusual for you to go for a guy that young?” I mischievously smile at him. “No,” I answer honestly. “But I like older lads too. In all honesty - I’d never properly go out with anyone that young.” Vince nods and smiles. “Do you think that’s part of your whole "missing out when you were young" thing?” I don’t respond. I feel my mouth start curling into a smirk. “You missed out on sleeping with lads when you were that age so you’re making up for it now?” And now I’m full on smirking. “Yeah,” I say, earnestly. “Sounds about right.” “As long as no one’s getting hurt … what’s the problem?” I just nod and say nothing. Because someone did get hurt. People got hurt. Because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. Because I couldn’t stay away from the cute nerdy bodybuilder with the boyish charm who fucked so bloody well. I loved the difference between me and Nick. I kinda loved the power dynamic too I guess.  And yes - me and Jason weren’t properly together. But I knew Jason liked me. I knew he hoped something would develop between us. And I kept the Nick thing from him. Because Jason was Nick’s coach. The two of us were going at it in secret. And, whatever way I wanted to excuse myself, I knew I was doing something wrong. “Where have you gone?” Vince asks, studying my face. I look back at him, pulled from my thoughts. I find myself smiling, and he’s smiling back. He leans in and kisses me. It’s sexy. And sexy turns to intense. Just like it was when he was inside me. Vince pulls back. And I take him in. Those green eyes. Which I’m only really noticing now are pretty gorgeous. The bald head. The veins. That insanely hot ginger moustache and beard. Such a fucking brute. And a sexy one at that. But it’s not just the way he looks. It’s him. There’s something here. Between me and Vince.  “What are you doing Tuesday night?” I instinctively feel my body tensing up. “Dunno," I say casually. “Come round here. I’ll cook for you.” “You cook?” He widens his eyes and nods slowly. “I’m a head chef at a restaurant in town. Seriously!” I nod, impressed and trying to imagine him in a chef’s uniform bulldozing through a kitchen telling everyone off. “Give me your number," I tell him. "I’ll let you know.” “Nah, mate. You’ll fob me off. Come round Tuesday night,” he playfully orders. I immediately feel guarded. Where is this pushiness coming from? “Jesus!” he cries, clearly sensing my hesitance. “I’m not asking you to move in with me. I’m asking you to come round on Tuesday night and I’ll cook for you.” I’m smirking at him, looking into his eyes. I feel I can be honest with him.  “This is how it starts though. First you’re cooking for me. Then you’re waiting for me to text you back. Then we're seeing each other. And then I’m screwing you over.” I’m saying all of this in a playful tone, but what I’m saying is the truth. Vince just smirks at me. “Maybe I’ll screw you over.” I feel like saying - why would I want that? But I just stay silent. I just keep looking into his eyes. I didn’t want to start something with someone this soon after Jason. But I can’t deny it feels like there’s something here. I’m intrigued by this Irish ginger-bearded muscle bull.  And yes - maybe I will screw him over. Or he’ll, in fact, screw me over. Maybe that would actually be some sort of karma for the whole Jason, Nick mess. And yes - maybe this will end in disaster. But maybe it could end up being something different to what I’ve had before. Something amazing, even.  Maybe sometimes you just need to stop thinking about the maybe’s, take a chance and see what happens.

Its so nice to have a new story from the amamzng musclehintz- Thanbk you