Jump to content
  • entries
    22
  • comments
    179
  • views
    2269

About this blog

I hope to continue the fun I had on Tumblr here.  I also might start posting my stories (unfinished and finished) here (as well as on the forum).  I hope people enjoy!

Entries in this blog

londonboy

I asked Bud to stay in the bedroom when my friends arrived.  When he walked into the room I wanted to be able to see their faces.  It didn’t matter who it was, though, when Bud Stevens came in, ducking and turning sideways to fit through an archway, mouths were going to drop open wide and eyes were going to bug out.  I stayed hard just in anticipation of how my friends were going to react.  Three people were joining us that evening.  Marty, my best friend since high school who had a fetish for muscle that equaled mine. Jonathan, a gay guy I had met at work a few years ago who loved little guys that wanted to be taken care of. And Ned, a straight football loving man who just happened to like and be comfortable with hanging out with gay men. I had chosen them each for specific reasons and wouldn’t even tell Bud what those reasons were.  Everyone arrived at pretty much the same time.  

 

“Hey Bud, darling, our guests are here,” I called down the hallway.  

 

I know it was my imagination, but I swear I could feel the building shake when I knew my boyfriend was coming down the hall.  I turned my back to the archway and stepped closer to my friends – who were definitely interested in the guy who had kept me off the party scene and social media for quite a long time.  It was like a perfect symphony when Bud appeared.  I could have driven a truck through every mouth in the room – that’s how far jaws dropped in astonishment.  Marty actually let out a delighted squeal as Bud straightened out to his full height. Crotches all hardened – even Ned’s – which was one of the reasons he had been invited.  I wanted to see if hugeness impressed him.  Clearly, it did.  

 

“Well, it’s finally great to meet some of my sweet Connor’s little friends,” Bud said as he walked past me.

 

I could tell he was in full muscle daddy mode – wearing only some cut off denim shorts, a thick belt, and some work boots.  He easily scooped up all three men in a big hug and lifted them off the floor as he held them tightly.  I heard the air in all three men be forced out and I instantly knew Bud was applying more pressure than usual – just to impress them.  He bounced them up and down as he spoke, simply to make sure they knew lifting them was very easy.  His huge biceps bulged hugely even though they weren’t tensed.  Every man with his feet dangling in the air got a great view of my man’s humongous arms.  And they couldn’t contain their shock.  

 

“Connor has told me so much about each of you.  I want to thank you for allowing him to spend so much time with me, recently,” Bud said. “There were quite a few really big changes – well, one, really - to our relationship and we needed to take time to explore all the ramifications that change caused.  I can’t wait to get to know each one of you this evening.  I hope I can impress you.”

 

“Um, honey, they’re all turning purple.  Do you want to put them down so they can breathe,” I said, teasingly.

 

“What the fuck are you?” Marty exclaimed as soon as Bud placed the men back on the ground.

 

“You must me Marty,” Bud said and held out one of his humongous hands.   

 

Marty looked at the huge paw in astonishment.  Bud’s hand was way bigger than his head.  He couldn’t wrap his mind around someone being this big.  His mouth kept moving, but no words came out.  He was only staring at the big behemoth in front of him.  Bud turned to Ned.

 

“You gotta be Ned, right. You’re so big and strapping,” Bud said, but no one was really hearing.  “I can tell why you love football.”

 

“Big . . . and . . . strapping . . . small . . . and . . . weak,” was all that came out of Ned’s mouth. 

 

“And lastly, there’s Jonathan.  Connor told me you like small men,” Bud said, winking at me.  “I guess there’s no worry that you’ll try to steal me from my sweet man, since there’s nothing small about me.”

 

For some reason, this made everyone look down at Bud’s crotch.  To see a tree trunk covered in denim is one of the most amazing scenes ever. The eyes of all three men seemed to widen even more as they took in Bud’s enormously thick and insanely long member.  Marty actually licked his lips and let out a loud whistle.  

 

“You gotta license for that bazooka, Bud?” Marty asked, without taking his eyes from the bulge at Bud’s crotch.

 

“These are the only license I need, Marty,” Bud said as he raised his mighty arms into a double biceps pose.  Gigantic muscles erupted beside the big man’s head.

 

“Fucking hell!” Ned whispered loudly.

 

Marty, again, let out a little squeal and then he fell backwards onto the couch.  The sight of Bud’s guns was just too much.  Arms aren’t supposed to balloon up into mountains of muscle equal in size to young children.  Bud chuckled at everyone’s reaction until he noticed that Jonathan wasn’t breathing.  He wasn’t moving at all.

 

“Um, Connor, you might want to check on Jonathan,” Bud said, immediately lowering his arms and reaching out to grab the dude before he fainted, and then – with his other hand – grabbed a big chair and lifted it over so he could set the guy down.

 

“Jonathan, you need to breathe.  Can you hear me?  Come on, pal, inhale and exhale,” I said as I put my hands on his cheeks and made him look at me.

 

Suddenly, Jonathan sucked in a big gulp of air and refocused on what was happening around him.  He was still a little dazed and just kept repeating ‘so huge’ over and over.

 

“Sorry, little fellas,” Bud said, “I forget how overwhelming my humongous body can be when you’re seeing it for the first time.  Can I get anyone a beer?”

 

Four hand went up . . . including mine.  I knew Jonathan was going to be fine.  My big lover then waddled to the door to the kitchen and contorted his big frame so he could fit through.  It was like the elephant in the corner had left the room.  All three friends started talking all at once.

 

“What is this place – the top of the beanstalk and that’s the giant,” Marty immediately said.

 

“My fucking goodness, did you see the size of his arms,” Ned said at the same time.  “Those weren’t arms, they were blimps.  He must be the biggest guy on earth.”

 

“So huge . . . so huge . . . so huge,” Jonathan repeated.

 

“Fellas, he’s just my boyfriend,” I teasingly replied.

 

“Just your boyfriend,” Marty said loudly, “He’s all the fucking Himalayas and Alps all rolled into one. He can barely fit through an archway . . . let alone a door.”

 

“How in the hell did he get so big?” Ned quickly asked, hoping he’d get an answer before the giant reappeared.  

 

“We’re not exactly sure . . .” I started to reply.

 

“Sure we are, honey,” Bud said as he squeezed back into the room carrying five beers in one big hand. “The doctors say it was when Connor donated blood for me when I was in the hospital.  Specialists say it was just some freakish accident in nature. Our blood mixed together made me become King Kong.”

 

“Accident!” exclaimed Marty. “That was no freakish accident. That was a blessing, that was. Look at you – you’ve been morphed into a giant mound of muscle in real life.  Connor, I might turn into a vampire and suck your blood if that’s what it can do to me.”

 

“That’s the thing,” I said, “It only did this to Bud and no one else.  They tried to see if it could be repeated.  No one knows why it was just this once.”

 

“I think it’s because I loved you so much,” Bud answered.

 

Bud was opening the beers by putting the caps between his pecs and pulling lightly.  The popping noise filled the room as each top came off easily.  He’d then squeeze his chest together even more and turn the cap into something unrecognizable – letting them fall to the floor when he was done.  He saw my face and immediately bent down to pick up the remains on the floor.  My friends were impressed that a man as huge as Bud could bend so easily.  

 

“I tend to show off a lot,” Bud explained, “But the only issue is I sometimes forget to clean up whatever I have demolished.  I left the remains of four bowling balls I demolished between my forearm and biceps on the floor last week and it wasn’t cool.  Connor, my love, keeps me in line, though.”

 

Bud came and stood behind me, wrapping a thick arm across my chest.  I saw, by the faces of my friends, that seeing his enormous arm next to my seemingly insignificant upper body was a comparison shot that caused much excitement.  My big man pressed his hard cock against my back, just to send me a message that he was thinking of me.  All three friends took a gulp of beer at the same time.  Jonathan’s voice quickly reminded us all that he was there.

 

“Um . . . Bud, just how strong are you?” my friend asked.

 

Bud just grinned . . . from ear to ear and then looked down at me.  He wanted me to grace my friends with the news of what was to come.  He wanted me to give them the present I had asked for specifically.

 

“We don’t exactly know,” I said.  “That’s the main reason we invited you over.  We are taking a trip to that huge junkyard on the edge of town so Bud can play freely – with no fear of bringing down the apartment building or hurting someone. We were wondering if you three might like to come and watch.”

 

I might as well have been giving the three of them each a lottery ticket that won the largest amount in history.  No, this was even better than that.  They all affirmed their participation in different ways.  Ned simply said, “Fuck me!”  Marty squealed and jumped up and down.  And Jonathan downed the rest of his entire beer in one gulp.  I had not doubted that any on of them would not want to see Bud play.  Marty loved muscle and all that it could do.  Ned was an avid comic book reader and I got the feeling that introducing him to a real live superhero was going to be the best night of his life.  And Jonathan, that shy, quiet, keep-to-yourself friend had a secret that only I knew.  He dated smaller men because he loved to dominate them.  He loved being cocky and demanding, but I knew he secretly wanted to have someone do the same to him.  He wanted to be dominated or, at least, meet someone who would be able to boss him around if they wanted to.  I knew he had already met his deepest fantasy in my man, Bud Stevens. I had a feeling this night would change Jonathan’s life forever.  His fascination with domination had prevented him from having a solid relationship for his entire life.  I figured that Bud’s size and strength might open some avenues into that man’s psyche – healing some old wounds, allowing Jonathan to be weak and vulnerable, and even helping the guy to see he had a wild crush on Marty.  I saw Bud’s playtime as therapeutic for each of my friends.

 

“Well, I can see that’s a yes from all of you,” I said, smiling at their reactions.

 

“You fellas have no idea how much fun this is going to be for me,” Bud said, starting to slowly pulse his long hard cock up and down my back as he talked.  “I always have to be so careful.  When I lifted a fire truck I couldn’t crush the thing like I wanted to. When I took on a group of firemen all at one time, I had to be extra careful to not hurt them.  When I folded up some doofus’ Cadillac I couldn’t chuck it through the wall of the parking garage.  You see, there are always these rules about what a giant elder muscle man can and cannot do.  That’s why when Connor came up with the idea of a place where I could abandon all rules and truly let go, I got more erect than the Washington monument and we both knew we’d have to invite some friends over for our little power party.”

 

“You folded up a Cadillac?” Ned asked.  “A real Cadillac?”

 

“Yeah, it was kind of early on into my new body and I wasn’t really as powerful as I am now.  I’ve gotten stronger every day,” Bud explained. “I think it will be a lot easier tonight.”

 

“I gotta sit down,” Ned said and took the chair that was once occupied by Jonathan.

 

“You lifted a fire truck?” Jonathan asked, quietly.

 

“Well, the ladder didn’t reach the window.  They needed a few more feet.  You would have done the same thing,” Bud said.

 

“No, not really.  I can only lift a child’s fire truck . . . not the real thing,” Jonathan corrected.

 

“Yeah, but if you could have you would have,” Bud replied.

 

“You, my huge friend, are the only man on earth that could have,” Jonathan said.

 

“Hey Bud, you think you could take on an army?” Marty interjected.  “I’ve always had this fantasy of one guy taking on missiles, tanks, and thousands of men.  I bet taking care of that group of firemen was like child’s play for you.  I’d enjoy watching you taking on the army of an entire nation.”

 

“You were right about him,” Bud said turning to me, “He does have a great imagination.”

 

“You have no idea, big man,” Marty said.  “So, when do we get to see you demolish things?” 

 

“Right now,” I answered. “Let me just grab a few things from the back.  Bud, I left some presents on the dining room table to help you entertain our guests while I’m in the back.”

 

I saw my lover’s face explode with joy.  He instantly knew I had brought things in for him to manhandle and destroy for my friends. There was nothing that man liked more than showing off.  I was worried I’d come back to a room full of wet crotches, but I decided there were worse things that could happen.  These easy small feats of strength would be like appetizers before the feast to come. The big man grabbed me as I walked by, wrapped one arm around my backside, squeezed, and then lifted me into the air.  He gave me a big kiss and then turned to my friends – even as he continued to hold me off the ground.

 

“Is there anything sweeter or cuter in the world than this little man, fellas?” Bud asked, and it was perfectly clear that no one was going to argue with the behemoth.  “I’d do anything for him.”

 

“Okay, down, monster muscle daddy.  I need to get things ready for the evening,” I said, looking up at my handsome elder lover.

 

“Yes sir,” Bud shot back and put me back on the ground, making sure to get a good grope of my ass before I walked away.  “Shall we see what gifts Connor has brought out?” he asked as I left the room.

 

Bud let his huge body kind of corral the men into the dining room – when something that large is coming at you it’s a good idea to move.  As predicted, when the group beheld what I had left for them, Marty squealed, Ned said, “Holy fuck,” Jonathan turned white in anticipation, and Bud’s big cock bobbed noticeably in his shorts.  From the look of how many items were on the table most people would have thought they’d be there for hours, but I knew I only had about five minutes since we were talking about Bud Stevens manhandling everything.  There was a big industrial sized wrench, a thick crowbar, the kind of safe you’d find in a hotel closet, and a big old radiator that had taken me thirty minutes to get into the apartment since it was so heavy. Each of my friends went stock-still and silent when Bud picked up the wrench and started twisting it like it was a piece of long licorice.  He talked to them as he did it – making it clear it took no effort at all.  There was no strain in his voice and they all noticed his arms didn’t tense that much.

 

“So fellas, this is my chance to tell you that I think the world of Connor,” Bud said as he turned the wrench into something that resembled a corkscrew.  “As a matter of fact, he is my world.  I can guarantee that nothing is going to harm one hair on his gorgeous head.  I’ll make sure of that.  I just wanted you three to know that he’s my little man and I’d take on the world for him.”

 

There was something so unworldly about listening to a freakishly huge older man talk about loving your friend and promising to look after him while he manhandled a big wrench like it was paper.  By now, Bud had squeezed the thick end of the tool into something as thin as a pencil and he was folding the thing up like you would a matchbook.  Mouths were wide open in astonishment and eyes were much wider than before – and they had been pretty wide to begin with.  The once powerful looking wrench was now just a small blob of metal the size of ping pong ball.  Bud dropped the smashed metal on the floor without even thinking about it. The loud thud made it clear the thing still weighed a lot.  As he continued to talk he picked up the crowbar.  

 

“I mean, the guy makes me feel like Superman, you know?” Bud said, not really paying attention to what he was doing or how it was affecting the guys in the room.  “When I’m around him I feel like there’s nothing I can’t do – nothing I couldn’t take on.  And god, does he make me horny.  Sorry to overshare, but I gotta tell someone.  He like makes my testosterone boil twenty-four seven.  I walk around with a massive hard-on all the time.  He doesn’t know it, but I beat off thinking about him at least twenty times a day – sometimes a lot more.  I’m surprised my place doesn’t smell like a bathhouse.”

 

Without even thinking about it, Bud had taken the crowbar in his right hand and slammed it against his chest really hard.  The thing had bent at an angle – the steel having to yield to his massive pecs.  The three men had jumped at the sound of insignificant metal pounding against something infinitely more powerful.  The crowbar was now deformed and there was even a little indention where the thing had hit Bud’s super hard nipple.  Bud smacked his head this time, and the bar bent to a ninety-degree angle.  All three men gasped.  Bud didn’t notice and kept spilling his guts.

 

“And don’t even get me started on how much I like to show off for him,” Bud continued.  Last night we were at a bar and I had every customer and employee jump up on the pool table so I could lift it with on hand – just for my handsome boy.  I could tell he was pleased, but that only made me want to do something more for him. I swear I just can’t get enough of pleasing him.”  

 

By this point, Bud had wrapped the crowbar around his forearm – that being the only part of his body small enough for doing so.  He then twisted the ends of the bar together like those strips of papered wire you use with trash bags.  He tightened the bar until it was indented in his skin.  Then, he bent his wrist, and flexed the lower part of his hand.  The metal popped on two sides as if it were a rubber band that had been stretched too tightly.  The big man’s forearm – just his forearm – had been too powerful for a sturdy crowbar.  The two pieces of metal fell to the floor, demolished and nowhere near resembling the tool they used to be.  Bud was now on a roll with his conversation.  He wanted to tell my friends everything in his heart.  He was so wrapped up in what he was saying he didn’t realize the three men were almost passed out from shock at how easily the big man had just destroyed what was supposed to be an indestructible tool. The giant picked up the heavy safe – which none of the other men could have even attempted to lift – with one hand. He tucked it under his arm with the door facing out.  He returned to his earlier train of thought.  

 

“It’s really important to me, fellas, that you approve of me,” Bud said – to the absolute astounded looks of three guys who thought there wasn’t a guy on earth that would be brave enough to not approve of Bud Stevens.  “I mean, yeah, I’m strong as hell and bigger than six guys put together, but I have feelings, too, you know.  It’s important that any friend of Connor’s thinks I’m the right fit for him. I know I’m quite a bit older, but I don’t think I act my age, do you?”

 

At that exact moment Bud balled his free hand into a fist, brought it back a little, and then pummeled the front door of the safe with enough force that the thing buckled completely open.  Again, all three men jumped and gasped at the same time.  Bud put his thick fingers into the gaping hole at the side and then ripped the door completely off the body of the safe as if he were tearing a sheet of paper from a notebook.  The noise was loud and it seemed like the thick metal was screaming in pain from being abused so easily.  The big man got childlike when he peered in the gaping front of the box.

 

“Connor usually leaves me love notes in things like this,” Bud said as he retrieved a piece of paper. “It’s just his way of making me not flatten or destroy things before looking in.  I tend to get carried away and crush everything quickly.”

 

Bud read the note and smiled.  He then tucked the paper into one of the tight pockets of his stretched-to-the-max shorts.  After that, he picked up the door to the safe, the part with the combination mechanism and held it in his palm like it was a piece of foil.  He easily started crumpling it in on itself with just one hand. The guy was destroying thick metal with just his muscular fingers and powerful palm.  He ended up squeezing so hard that metal actually seeped out between his fingers – now clearly hot and moldable.  When he dropped what used to be the front of the safe on the floor all three friends could see large finger indentions along the now destroyed metal. He had his humongous arm wrapped around the body of the safe and as he continued to talk he bent his arm – squeezing the hell out of the box made of heavy, impenetrable steel.  This time the loud screeching of metal being destroyed made it almost impossible to hear Bud.

 

“So tonight, I hope I can really impress all of you at the junk yard,” he said as he crushed the safe almost as an after thought.  “I think you’ll be impressed with just how strong I am.  I can’t wait to see what I can do to make Connor happy.  He’s wanted me to cut loose with my power even more than I have.  Like I think I said earlier, there’s no reason to do any strength feat unless he’s part of it.  I love him, fellas.  It’s just that simple.  And I’m sure I can provide for him and make him very, very happy.”

 

Watching the big man easily smash the safe with one arm made it seem like he was simply breaking down a cardboard moving box.  His massive biceps bulged into the side of the safe and warped the thing until it was a mangled sheet of metal.  Bud then took the thing in his hands and started folding it – as if he were simply doing origami with thick plated steel.  Soon, the big protect-your-valuables safe had been manipulated into something the size of a thick wallet.  There was another loud thud on the floor when Bud dropped his handiwork.  Next came the big radiator – which was the size of a small bookcase.  Bud swung it into the air with one hand and placed his big paws on either side.

 

“God, fellas, talking about my little man has got me all hot and bothered,” Bud said with surprising honesty.  “When Connor gets me worked up into a sexual frenzy my strength seems to intensify by about ten times.  I also always seem to mysteriously grow bigger.  It’s the wildest thing.  I feel indestructible and much more powerful than the average guy . . . you know?”

 

This was being said by the man that was presently pressing in on both sides of the radiator and making it look like he was playing an accordion.  The metal cylinders of the big thing had no choice but to cave in on themselves and then become one with the next one beside them.  Bud’s mountainous pecs swelled even larger as he easily compressed the thing.  The big man hadn’t even broken a sweat, while all three other men were perspiring like pigs simply because they were working so hard not to explode in their pants. The radiator was soon just a long narrow pole – metal squeezed together like clay being rolled together by a child. Bud put his hands on either end of the long shaft and then started bringing his palms together.  When his hands finally met, the radiator resembled a flattened disc.  It joined the other pieces of what was now junk on the floor.  Bud looked up and was surprised to see Marty, Ned, and Jonathan staring at him with flabbergasted faces.

 

“What?” he asked – seriously not understanding what he had just done in such a short time was astonishing.

 

I was in the bedroom gathering some towels, a little KY Jelly, some bottles of water, a camera, a few changes of shorts for Bud – knowing he’d bust out of all of them – a few blankets, and a handful of cash in case we had to pay off whatever kind of night watchman the junkyard had.  I had a feeling whomever the guy may be he’d be more than willing to let us in if he were able to watch.  I could hear all the screeching of metal coming from the other room and knew, instinctively, that Bud was demolishing the items as if it were nothing.  Of course to him it was nothing, but I’m sure he was talking away – being the ever-chatty host – and crushing things without even thinking about it.  I also knew there’d be a mess on the floor when I returned.  I might have had a boyfriend who could fold up a huge car, but getting him to clean up after himself was way too difficult.  I never complained, though.  I got off on touching the indentions of his fingers and trying desperately to pick up something that had been compacted so small but still weighed so much.  I suddenly realized I did not hear any noise from the other room.  This was never a good sign.  I double-checked to make sure I had everything and then moved quickly to the front of the apartment.

 

“Bud Stevens, I hope you’re being a good host.  I don’t hear anything being destroyed,” I said as I came down the hall.

 

There was only one place in the world where you could walk into a living room and behold the sight that greeted me.  And that was because there was only one living room in the world that had a boyfriend like Bud Stevens.  My senior muscle daddy was standing in the middle of the room – furniture pushed back – with his arms straight out to his side.  He had become a living jungle gym for my three friends.  Marty sat on Bud’s shoulders looking quite small while Ned and Jonathan used the outstretched arms for exercising.   Ned had jumped up to Bud’s right arm, draped the back of his knees over the huge thing and was now doing in-the-air crunches.  Jonathan was doing chin ups on the other side.  My big boyfriend was rock still – loving every minute of the fun he was offering the boys.  Marty’s legs, straddled on either side of Bud’s head looked as if they were those of a child as they hung down across the big man’s monstrous chest.  To have grown men working out using your arms and not having them move even a fraction of an inch was something only Bud Stevens could do.  I put my hands on my hips in mock disapproval.

 

“What are you doing, Bud?” I asked.

 

“Playing,” he responded, smiling.  “I destroyed everything on the dining room table quickly and we were bored.”

 

“Which translates to you were bored,” I replied.

 

“Well . . . yeah,” the big man chuckled back.

 

“I just need to do one more set,” Ned said, “And then we can go.  I didn’t get to the gym today.”

 

Jonathan had already dropped to the floor and was huffing pretty hard.  I had never known him to do any kind of exercising, but I’m sure he just wanted to be close to my enormous boyfriend.  Who could blame him?  As soon as Ned finished his last set, grabbed Bud’s steady arm and flipped down to the ground, my man reached up and grabbed Marty at the waist.  He lifted him over his head and then placed his body down on the ground.  I could tell Marty was in muscle heaven.  He had taken the opportunity to grope Bud’s muscles the entire time.  

 

“How were the parlor tricks, boys?” I asked as they all tried to calm themselves down.

 

“Fucking amazing,” Ned said.

 

“Who knew a safe was so flimsy?” Marty replied, chuckling.

 

“I actually felt sorry for the metal,” Jonathan added and we all laughed.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Shall we be off to the main attraction,” I asked, holding up items to be carried.

 

“I’ll get everything, hon,” Bud said.  “I don’t want you boys straining yourselves.”

 

And all the things that had made me look weighted down like a donkey looked small and insignificant in Bud’s hands.  Why shouldn’t we let him carry everything?  It was nothing for him.  Hell, he should have carried us, too.  He should have carried the car!  And with that we were off for a night of fun.    

londonboy

Confidence Builder

14334687_666735820148042_1643284261_n.jpg

Marty and I had been friends for about five years.  He was one of the coolest guys I had ever met.  I even had a slight crush on him, and I was pretty sure he felt the same way about me.  The only problem was that he was not my type.  And I couldn’t get beyond that.  I knew I was being petty, but I just didn’t like small guys who were so shy they were scared of their own shadow.  Like I said, Marty was incredibly nice – he’d give you the extra small shirt off of his back – but that didn’t make up for the fact that he was so unconfident you sometimes forgot he was in the room.  I tried introducing him to new friends and getting him to go out, but the guy just didn’t like to mingle with people he didn’t know.  I had a long talk with him one night about how I was scared he was going to end up alone – some crazed loner because he was so shy.  A week later we were making some pasta for dinner and he informed me he was finally going to do something about his shyness.  He had found an enhancement program that he’d be going to for a month.  He had enough time off from work and the program was in a small town about an hour away. He’d just be gone thirty days.  I asked him if he knew anything about the place – it sounded pretty secretive and weird, but he assured me he’d be fine.  A friend of his who had been through the program highly recommended it.  Marty said the friend had definitely changed.  I was still reluctant, but Marty was a grown man and I was happy he was being proactive.  

 

A month of being alone was really hard.  I missed Marty a lot more than I imagined I would – but living with someone for so many years makes it hard to adjust when they’re not there.  I made the time go faster by going out with friends and having people over to our place.  Finally, it was the day of Marty’s return.  I was very excited about coming home from work and him being there – not because of the ‘so called’ enhancement program, really, but more because I had really missed the guy.  I dropped my keys and my briefcase as soon as I walked into the living room of our place. Little dweebish Marty was no more. There, in the middle of the room, stood an enhanced, beefy, morphed version of the guy I had once known.  I was shocked.  He just smiled.

 

“Like the improvements, dude?” he said in a low, smooth, silky voice that made the juice in my balls instantly boil.

 

“Marty . . . look at you! You’ve grown!” I stammered back.

 

“Yeah man, about seventy-eight pounds of pure muscle,” the once sheepish guy said and then turned his head to his right as he flexed his new monster biceps in a cock-hardening tense. “Look how my ‘ceps stretches the material of my shirt now.  Pretty fucking hot, isn’t it.  I’m curling more weight than your body now and can do a thousand push-ups with no problem. Feeling powerful, man!”

 

His cockiness made my cock shoot hard.  The dude was looking at his own arm with so much pride – with so much self lust – I almost shot my building load right there.  That’s when I noticed the room was really hot and smelled of something that could only be described as manliness.  My enhanced roommate’s body was permeating some kind of testosterone-filled musk that made me dizzy with a powerful need.  The dude had a pull on me that was instantaneous and overwhelming. He was still flexing his softball-sized gun and admiring it, so that gave me a chance to acknowledge all of the outward changes.  His hair looked thicker – manlier – and was no longer styled in a way that matched a guy would might wear a pocket protector or say ‘I’m sorry’ all the time even when it wasn’t his mistake.  There was stubble across his now chiseled face – stubble that was so dark and full even after definitely shaving that morning that you knew it also now covered his once sunken, but now protruding chest.  A hard nipple poked through the material of his shockingly athletic shirt in a way that made it clear Marty got off on his own body.  Trap muscles bulged, shoulders jutted out twice as wide as they used to, and veins snaked across his mammoth biceps in a way that made it clear the things were hard as stone.  

 

“You should feel how hard my gun is now, man,” Marty said, without taking his gaze away from his own bulging arm.  “Every time I grab it with my other hand I shoot harder than granite.  Fuck, where are my manners, you probably want to see more of my enhancements, don’t you.  I was just too busy getting off on my own monstrous arm.  Help me peel this shirt off of my upper bod, dude.”

 

There are moments in your life when you’re pretty sure the scriptwriter had suddenly gone from a cute little innocent film into some trashy porn movie.  Marty’s request was like music to my ears.  I was so turned on by the fact that he needed help to get his own shirt off that I couldn’t move at first.  I paused long enough for my newly empowered roommate to notice what was happening to me and he chose to lessen the distance between us.  Marty stepped so close to me that the mixture of heat, muskiness, confidence, and obvious muscle power radiating from him almost immediately made me pass out.  My weakness must have shown.

 

“Whoa, little man, don’t go rolling your eyes into the back of your head and blacking out on me.  We haven’t even got to the best part of the show, yet.  You need to keep it together for a lot longer, dude.  We’ve both been waiting for this day for a long time.  It’s time to let big ol’ Marty take care of you, man. It’s what you’ve wanted for so many years.  It’s what you encouraged me to release in myself.  You think the outside of your roommate was enhanced, just wait until you get a full experience of what’s been improved on the inside of me.  I’m not your little pencil-necked dweeb of a roommate any more, man.  I’m your fucking superhero now, dude.  The enhancement facility said they’d never had a guy grow so much – on the outside and inside.  I told them they’d probably never had a dude who wanted his roommate as badly as I want you. They told me to have a goal in my mind as I worked out or as I built my confidence.  I chose as my visual mantra the goal of pounding that sweet tight ass of yours as I pressed you against the wall.  You can see it was the right vision for my improvements, yeah?” Marty said with a grin that lit up the room like a thousand stars had just been pulled by his magnificent arms into our place.

 

He tensed his entire body just to intensify the cock-teasing animalistic pleasure his every pore was oozing. I had never believed in auras before – but at that moment the man was emitting something that blanketed me with something akin to the glorious rays of the sun.  My trembling hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to lift.

 

“Go super slow, dude,” Marty whispered in a gruff voice, “I want you to etch this moment in your memory for life.  You made me, roomy.  I want to give something back to you that makes you as happy a I am.  I’m a big strong cocky muscleman, dude, and I’m going to fill you with as much of my cockiness as you can handle.  Get ready for pleasure you never imagined possible. Get ready for bulged you never expected me to have.  Tonight we’re going to leave an impression of your body in the drywall of our living room. The cracks in the wall will remind you of what you have created.”

londonboy

jaroslav-horvath1.jpg

“Here’s why your fist hurts so much, pal,” he said, smiling an evil-like grin and lifting his sleeveless shirt to reveal flesh-covered bricks that bugled out like a mountain range. “It’s also why I didn’t flinch or move at all.  You’ve got a pretty powerful punch, dude, but it’s nothing up against this.”

 

He stepped closer and I swear I could feel heat radiating from his powerful mid-section.  His eyes were magnetic and he just kept smiling, as if he knew something I didn’t.  The veins on his arms bulged noticeably as blood pulsed through them.  He tweaked his own nipples as he continued to gaze into my eyes – not dropping his stare for even a second.  

 

“You’re a fucking hot dude. You make me feel even more powerful. You’re turned on, aren’t you, straight boy?” he suddenly asked.

 

“Hell no!” I stammered back. “Fuck you, freak.”

 

“Oh, so you think I’m a freak, do you, pretty boy?” he said, stepping even closer.  I was pressed up against my SUV – trying to think of a way to get around him.   “I take that as a compliment.  I’ve worked hard to turn into a freak.  I’m glad you noticed.  And, by the way, if anyone’s going to be doing any fucking, I can guarantee it’s going to be the freak.”

 

He let his gaze dropped to my crotch for only a second and my massive hard-on, which I had no control over whatsoever, gave me away.  He smiled even bigger when he caught my gaze again.  His big fingers pressed into his hard bulging chest and I could see the skin didn’t dent in at all.  He was definitely hard all over.

 

“Your lips says no, but your crotch says yes, yes, boy,” he said, leaning in and inhaling deeply.  “I can feel your lust and man it fills me with some kind of energy I’ve never experienced before.  The heat between us is intensifying, little man.  I’ve never felt so alive.  How about you.”

 

“I don’t . . . feel . . . anything,” I replied, but the hesitation in my words said something very different.  

 

“Oh yeah?  Let’s change that, man,” he said as he pressed his insanely hard body against me.  I was smashed against the back of my car.  “Looks like you’re caught between a rock and a hard place.  And I’m the rock and the hard place put together, aren’t I?”

 

My body felt like it had burst into flames and the fire was consuming every part of me.  The power his body radiated was unbelievable.  It was also intoxicating beyond my wildest imagination.  His body made the SUV behind me feel flimsy like cardboard.  It was very clear that I had about as much chance of getting through him as I did punching my way through a mountain.  My cock took over all control of my body and throbbed noticeably pressed strongly between us.

 

“Cocks don’t lie, pretty boy.  Your big tool is spilling the beans right now – telling me all I need to know,” the guy said, his face a few inches higher than mine and close enough for me to smell his toothpaste.  “I smell lust and I somehow get the feeling I could make the aroma of semen come wafting up with very little effort on my part.  How about it, fella, want to come for this big man?”

 

“No . . . please . . . not here . . . please,” I begged in stutters.  I was on the verge of a major explosion.  

 

“Not yet?” he asked, teasingly, and ground his own hard cock into mine menacingly.  “Okay, little man.  But later on when you’re beating off thinking about all of my had muscles pressed against you, I want you to remember one thing.  It’s not nice to call big guys nasty names.  Just because I’m into dudes doesn’t give you the right to call me derogatory terms – okay?  And then to throw a punch at me just because I challenge your homophobia – come on, dude, was that really thinking straight, excuse the pun.  I could punch through you and the back of your pretty car if I wanted to, but that’s not my style.  I just figured it would be better to make you shoot harder than stone just because I pressed all my muscle hardness against you.  Next time, think before you throw out slurs against a big muscle man, okay pretty boy?”

 

“Yes . . . sir,” I replied, trying desperately to not ejaculate on the spot.

 

I could see he contemplated finishing the job he had started, but then he merely flexed his body even harder than it already was, pressed me into the back of the car with more force, and then released me as he took a few steps back.  He let his shirt fall back down over his incredible abs and I found myself relieved – cause seeing those hard things was turning me on.  He then started laughing.

 

“How was that, honey?” he asked in a jovial voice.

 

“Shit, it was nice!” I exclaimed.

 

“You know, maybe you’re right – a little role playing would be fun,” he said moving around to the driver side of the SUV.  I adjusted my aching hard-on and moved to the passenger side.  I had a feeling tonight was going to be awesome. 

londonboy

Kept Man

 

big_daddy.jpg

 

“You’re getting so thick,” I said as he did a few poses for me in the bathroom.

 

“You like that, don’t you, kid?” he asked as he grunted into a new flex.

 

“You know I do,” I replied.

 

“Yeah, this huge daddy is packing on the muscle for you.  Getting myself bigger . . . thicker, just for you.  Look how massive I’m growing,” he responded and I could tell he was moving into that other world he called Muscledom as he watched himself in the big mirror beside me.  “Gonna get so big you can’t reach around me to hug me, man.”

 

“You’re nearly there, now,” I said back.

 

“Then my big arms will just have to do all the hugging,” he said, still staring at himself.  “Fuck, my chest looks like it could swallow you whole, boy.”

 

He loved his pecs and how big they had become.  He had started working out like a fiend after a minor health scare three years ago and had quickly become this elder behemoth that turned heads and pushed around the amount of weight usually reserved for power lifters.  He rolled his hairy, meaty slabs of beef up and down, slowly, knowing the action turned me on very much.   I could tell he already planned on having me suck on that right nipple of his all the way home.  I’d then have to make the left one not feel jealous this evening.  His chest ballooned out way beyond his hard abs. He called it my punching bags and made me spar with his pecs all the time – my fists finally aching because they were no match for his muscles.  

 

“Punch the bags a few times, boy,” he said, tensing his pecs.

 

“Someone might walk in,” I replied, knowing how he’d react even as I said it.

 

“Who the fuck cares. They’re not going to say anything. It might even turn them on, too,” he said, smiling a knowing grin that meant he hoped it did.  “I worked chest today, those things are hard as rock.”

 

As the smack of my first punch echoed off the tiled walls, I noticed that the big chest did seem a lot harder and even bigger, for some reason.  It was hard to believe this mountain of muscle had been my slightly overweight heavy partying older husband just a few years ago.  The first sign of changes to his body had turned me on so much – along with the definite more aggressive attitude of the guy – that he had wanted more just to please me.  He kept on calling me his little muse as he transformed into a muscle god.  He had also turned into a tireless fucking machine. The guy that I used to have to beg for sex once a month now couldn’t got half a day without seeking me out in our big house and pounding me wherever he found me.  It was about the eight punch by now and my fingers hurt.  He had watched my feeble attempts to make him feel something with complete joy – staring at each small fist as it met his wall of pec muscle.

 

“Fingers need a rest?” he asked.

 

“Yes sir,” I replied, forgetting how that second word made him react.

 

Suddenly, there was a loud growl and his big arms were around my tiny waist within seconds.  My face was slammed into the crevice between his mounds of muscle and I was off the floor in a flash.  When I said ‘sir’ he went crazy with testosterone and had to squeeze the shit out of me every time.  I found the pleasure of being surrounded by muscle more exciting than the fact that I couldn’t breathe.  I heard someone stepping into the bathroom area where we were, but mountainous pecs surrounding my face prevented me from seeing the guy.

“Had to give my little fella a squeeze.  Hope you don’t mind, dude?” my muscle daddy said to the man somewhere behind me.

 

“Um . . . not at all . . . uh, feel free to do . . . um . . . whatever you want . . . I’ll just . . . um . . . come back later,” replied the obviously freaked out smaller intruder who quickly vanished.  

 

“I was kind of hoping the cute dude would have wanted to join us,” the muscled elder man said as he tightened his squeeze – cutting off more oxygen.  “You should have seen the shocked look on his face.”

 

I immediately regretted the fact that I had not been able to see, but having my face slammed into his massive hard chest was definitely better.  And with a kiss on the top of my head my elder lover dropped my body to the floor – knowing, instinctively, to keep his hands on my shoulder for a few seconds to help me with my post bear hug dizziness, which was caused partially by air depravation and mostly because I got so worked up being tightly surrounded by his muscles.

 

“Damn, son, you know what that word does to me.  My little man shows me the proper respect and I just go crazy with lust.  One day I might squeeze too hard,” he said, teasingly. “You’re getting lighter, sweetheart. Either that, or I’m getting stronger.”

 

We both knew what the right answer was.  He dropped his sweats – struggling to get them over his enormous thighs, and cranked out a side chest pose after hiking up his briefs a little.  I was in muscle worship heaven.  

 

“All I could think about today as I was benching was getting these things monstrous, for you, boy,” he said through gritted teeth as he moved his body slightly back and forth to get a better view.  “Gotta make you so mega pillows for when you sleep on top of me.”

This, of course, was where I slept every night.  It was his choice – he said he needed to feel my body close to him all the time.  That was also the reason he sometimes picked me up under one arm and carried me around as he did household chores.  He said he couldn’t stand it when I was far away in another room.  We also never knew when he’d get an urge for some sexual delight.  He wanted to keep me ready for when the need hit.  It was not as if I didn’t want it as much as he did. To be plowed by his huge body was like all the Fourth of July’s rolled into one at the same time.  His cannon shooting off inside of me was better than any fireworks show.  I took a moment to appreciate the size and muscularity of his humongous shoulder. It was not a muscle I usually stopped to stare at, but his was too big and gorgeous not to notice.  I saw the bulge in his shorts getting bigger and his breathing had turned into heavy grunts.  I knew what those were signs for.  He was way beyond a point of holding back.  I was suddenly in his arms again and my feet dangled off the ground.

 

“Gotta give you a big present, boy,” he said, gruffly, as he walked.  “A bathroom stall will do nicely.”

 

“You’re too big, sir” I replied with enough of a whine to sound almost convincing.  

 

“I fit in the handicapped one,” he answered.  “And I won’t need to be the one that turns around.  Thank goodness, since there’s not enough room.”

 

And we were off to be filled with much pleasure.    

londonboy

tumblr_ng4u9gIYm11qz7b12o1_500.gif

“Dude!  You gotta start standing up for yourself,” I shouted.

 

“I know, Martin, I just . . . it’s . . . I can’t,” Amir stammered back.  “I mean, did you see the size of that guy?  He would have mopped the floor with me.”

 

Although the idea of a big dude using a smaller guy as a mop kind of turned me on, I forced the picture out of my head and focused all of my energy on being angry with my best friend. Amir had just let another guy steamroll all over him – something that seemed to happen numerous times a day. Even when I had stood up for him and challenged the bully, Amir had told me to calm down and not worry about it.

 

“Amir, that guy took a book from the stack you had just put up on the counter – books you were going to buy.  He just didn’t want to walk to the back of the store to get a different one.  He told you yours was the last one and you know that isn’t true.  Come on, man, pay for the things so we can go.  I need to get back to work.”

 

“I’m sorry, Martin. I’ll try to be more confident in the future,” Amir said sheepishly.  “I really just don’t like causing any problems.”

 

“Yeah, I know, man,” I responded, but not very convincingly.  “I’ll see you for drinks at five.”

 

Dammit, I thought to myself as I walked to my office.  Why do I get so worked up about Amir’s unwillingness to be more assertive?  The guy apologized if someone else bumped into him. A guy hit his car once with a BMW and Amir felt so bad he told his insurance it was his fault.  I’d seen Amir take all of his stuff out of a locker at the pool numerous times just because Frank, the gym bully, liked to tease Amir by telling him he really needed the locker Amir had chosen.  It was a different reason each time, but Amir gladly gave it up . . . every time Frank insisted on it.  And then there was the fact that you never ever sent Amir to the bar to get drinks at a club.  He’ll stand there for thirty minutes, unable to get the bartender’s attention, and then finally come back empty handed and someone else would have to go.  

 

And the guy wasn’t even some kind of total dweeb.  He was a handsome slightly-less-than-normal-sized dude who smiled a lot and was really friendly.  I’d been secretly crushing on him for years and that’s why I got so worked up when someone walked all over him.  Yes, he dressed a little nerdy.  Yes, he did his hair in this part-down-the middle dorky schoolboy style. Yes, he was the complete opposite of a ‘bear’ because if bear’s faces were furry, then Amir’s hairless, soft-as-a-baby’s-behind face made him very un-bear.  And the guy’s aversion to the gym was so intense I’m pretty sure he’d hyperventilate if he merely walked into one.

 

So, why the crush? There were so many reasons.  The guy had one of the best senses of humor I’d ever encountered.  He could have me rolling on the ground in seconds.  Of course, he’d have to know you pretty well before you got to get glimpses of this side of him, but it was there.  The guy was the best cook, the most read man I knew, and loved every kind of movie imaginable.  The first time we had ever met he had passed my requirement for becoming friends with someone by being able to quote entire segments of all Monty Python movies.  I don’t care how beautiful a man was if he didn’t know Monty Python.  That was a deal breaker.  And then, there was the fact hat he was probably the kindest person I knew – thank you cards after dinner parties, end of meal trips to the bathroom at restaurants where he secretly paid the bill, homemade meals delivered to you if you were sick, and just random daily messages to ‘check in’ and see how your day was going.  Who did those things in this day and age?  Amir did.  

 

Lastly, there was his cock. Sorry, I know I’ll be offending some people, but the fact was the guy had one of the most gorgeous cocks I’d ever seen.  There was a certain freedom within Amir when it came to changing in front of friends at the swimming pool or even at home.  I had no idea where the soft-spoken, shy, don’t-want-to-make-waves guy that moved through the world day to day got the hutzpah to let his dick and ball flop so majestically in front of his pals, but I figured it must be because of how big and beautiful it was.  It was thicker than my wrist, longer than my forearm, and had a mushroom head so plump you knew it would feel so incredibly good as it forced its way into you.  I so wanted to test my own theory.  I knew, subconsciously, that Amir’s comfortableness with parading his monster cock around proudly in changing rooms meant there was a side to him no one had ever seen.  I just didn’t know how to tap into that part of him . . . and then have that part of him tap me hard!

 

When I returned to Hyde Jet Propulsion Laboratories after lunch, I decided to stop by the office of my favorite ‘come cry on my shoulder’ friend – Betsy Cranston.  Betsy was a lipstick lesbian that was so gorgeous everyone came on to her – even though she made it very clear she was never going to be into a penis.  I had watched her knee a guy so hard in the balls after he physically harassed her in the office that he surely was going to sing soprano in the choir for years after that.  Betsy actually had the kind of personality I wish Amir would have.  I walked into her office and the look on my face said everything she needed to know.

 

“Let me guess.  Amir was a wimp,” she said, pointing to one of the chairs across from her.

 

“Am I that much of a broken record?” I asked.

 

“Yes, you are, but I don’t mind.  Watching you chase a guy that apologizes to his shadow is what I live for,” she sarcastically responded, and we both knew she was teasing me. 

 

“What am I going to do?” I asked.  “I like the guy so much, but he’s such a dweeb.”

 

“A cute dweeb, though,” Betsy added.

 

“Yes . . . he’s very cute,” I answered.

 

“And very, very endowed,” she teased, even more.

 

“Well, there is that, yes,” I said.

 

“Look at you, my little size queen, pining away for a guy that has so much potential.  When are you going to get smart and ask your good friend, Betsy, to help you?  Remember, I was top of my class at M.I.T.  I know a few things,” Betsy said, with seriousness that was somewhat unfamiliar.

 

“What do you mean?” I asked, raking in the tiny little small sand box on her desk that was supposed to be very meditative.  I just found it dirty.

 

“What do I do here at Hyde Jets?” she asked, using the abbreviated name of our company.

 

“I don’t really know. I think you work in alternative fuels or something like that,” I said, still raking away.

 

“Exactly, my good friend – who NEVER asks me about my job,” she said, giving me a ‘Betsy’ stare that made it clear I needed to ask.

 

“Hey Betsy, what are you working on?” I obediently asked, leaving the rake in the sandbox and giving her my full attention.

 

“Why, funny you should ask, there, Marty, my friend.  Let me make it very easy to understand.  I’m working on a little ray gun that focuses on the vitamins, minerals, and other healthy parts of certain plants and intensifies them when zapped,” she responded, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms like she had just finished a killer rap.

 

“I don’t understand,” I said – completely confused.

 

“I have a gun that I point at a plant and then I shoot a mixture of radioactive, electrical, and many other kinds of wonderful things into it and it grows.  It grows a lot.  It’s gets stronger, more aggressive to other plants, and is even crazy healthier. See that vine in the corner of my room – the one that’s taken over the bookcase?”

 

“Yeah,” I said, kind of half looking.

 

“It was just a two-leaf shoot this morning,” she answered.

 

This made me look again. A huge Amazonian jungle vine covered her huge bookcase making it almost impossible to see anything on the shelves. The plan reached fom the top shelf to the floor and even bunched up at the bottom in a few layers.  The leaves were a dark green – so healthy it almost looked faked – and the stem was thicker than my thumbs put together.  I turned from the plant back to my friend – my face in shock.  

 

“Yep,” she added, “Little itty-bitty baby plant this morning and now a big fucking daddy of all daddy plants about swallow my office whole.”

 

The look on her face instantly told me what she was thinking.  I looked at the plant again.  It looked like someone had babied it for years to grow into its present healthy looking size.  This had happened from one little zap from a gun Betsy was working on.  I turned back to her – suddenly very aware of something.

 

“Hey, I do remember asking you about your job and you told me you were working on alternative plant fuels,” I said – suddenly remembering that I was a good friend and asked questions.

 

“Yeah, that’s true. But on the side, I’ve been working on this,” she said and reached under her desk to bring out a rifle looking clear glassed instrument that looked like something out of the ‘Men in Black’ film franchise.  “It’s a little toy I wanted to make for my friend, Martin.”

 

She handed me the thing and I was shocked to find out it was light as a feather.  What had looked like glass was some kind of clear plastic and there were tubes throughout the thing with a dark green liquid zooming around and around.  It felt like the gun was alive.

 

“Is this thing on?” I asked.

 

“It feels like it, but no. The materials I mix for the super juice are kind of always moving.  It has to do with capturing electrons, mashing together specific energies, and a bunch of other stuff that would bore you.  The bottom line is – it’s ready to be tested on a human.”

 

“What?  No way!” I said, quickly.  “I am not letting you shoot this thing at me.”

 

“Not you, doofus!” she said, loudly.  “Amir!”

 

Her response excited me instantly.  My mind did not have time to filter anything.  I glanced at the killer vine on the bookshelf and thought about what this rifle thing could do to the man I loved.  I was so intrigued by the idea I almost let all common sense go. Suddenly, I came crashing back to earth.

 

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “How do you know it’s safe to use on humans?”

 

“Cause it’s all organic,” she answered.  “There’s nothing in there that humans don’t normally put in their body.  It’s just intensified – quite a bit – and cranked up a little by some focused power.  It’s harmless to other people, but I’ve built it specifically to react to Amir’s DNA. Thanks for the hair samples you provided.”

 

I was still a little embarrassed I had stolen hair from his brush and taken his toothbrush one day when I had been at his house.  Betsy had told me she could do some genealogical testing on the adopted Amir and we could maybe help him find his real parents.  That had all been a ruse to just get what she needed to make this gun. This girl was clearly a lot more sneaky thank I knew.

 

“What do you call it?” I asked.

 

“The A Zapper, of course. What else would I call it,” she said, laughing.  “So, you need to start bringing your guitar to work.”

 

“I don’t have a guitar,” I answered, kind of not really listening to her.  I was too busy looking at the A Zapper.

 

“You do now.  I bought you one yesterday and you’ll pick it up at my place, tonight.  You need to bring it so often that the guards downstairs will finally just wave you through and not check the bag because they’ve gotten used to you.  That’s when you can switch the guitar out for the zapper.”

 

“Who are you?” I asked looking at Betsy with a shocked face.  “Some kind of CIA agent?”

 

“Yes,” she said, with so much seriousness I really couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.  “Martin, this is going to help you get the man of your dreams and it’s going to actually help me advance my plant serum.  I’m not going to let this stuff be used on humans, even if it is harmless.  Are you kidding?  Our government would have a heyday with this kind of stuff.  My findings make it pretty clear that this stuff is not good for human consumption, but that’s all made up.  Only a few people in the world know what it can do and I’m the only person that has the formula in my head.  Someday, it will die with me.  Right now, though, I’d really like my best friend to get something I think he deserves. And at the same time, Amir will get something I think he deserves, too.  You know I love Amir.  I’d do anything for both of you.”

 

I was a little choked up to hear this and Betsy knew it.  She and I had talked way too many times heart to heart about my desire for Amir for her to not fully understand how I truly felt.  Her wanting to help me was the greatest gift ever.  I looked back at the Zapper to prevent myself from crying.  I thought about what it would do to my friend, Amir.  

 

“Now listen, Martin. This is a one shot deal.  The Zapper isn’t a rapid-fire machine.  It’s juice lasts for one long zap.  You got to keep with it no matter what when you start. Amir’s going to scream like a baby and you’re going to think he’s dying, but you’ve got to stay strong and keep zapping away.  It hurts when bone and muscle is regenerated.  It’s also going to be instantaneous.  You’re going to have to have your explanation ready to go – no matter what.  We don’t know how Amir’s going to react to the changes.  Also, get rid of the gun as soon as you’ve zapped the guy.  It will self destruct in three minutes.  Don’t worry, it’s not going to explode, but it will kind of melt into nothingness.  Just don’t have it I your hands or put it on a table you really like. A bathtub would be ideal.  Do you understand, Martin?”

 

“Yes, Betsy,” I said, looking right at her.  “Thank you very much.” 

 

She came out from behind her desk and we hugged.  We both knew the gun was going to change many people’s lives.  The next day, I started coming to her office on lunch break and playing the guitar.  I actually knew how to play, so Betsy wasn’t put off by having to listen to me as she ate. Two weeks later the guards stopped opening the guitar case when I left for the day and when I came in at morning. Betsy said it was time.  Amir was coming to my house for dinner that night. We both were ready to put operation ‘Zapping Amir’ into action.   I was nervous as hell when I was leaving my office that day.  I usually left with Betsy, so she thought it was important we not change a thing – even though I could tell she was as nervous as I was and I think wanted to stay in her office and wait for a text telling her I hade made it safely through.  Sweat was dripping down my back as we left the elevator and walked toward the front doors – right by the security desk with the two hefty guards sitting there. As soon as we got to the front doors one of the guards called out, “Hey!”  Betsy and I froze like criminals caught in a spotlight.  We turned slowly to face the two men.

 

“Don’t we get a ‘have a nice weekend’?” he asked, smiling.

 

Betsy and I never walked past the security station without saying have a great day or have a wonderful night.  It was just the kind of people we were.  In our urgent desire to escape without being caught with the Zapper we had forgotten our little ritual.  We immediately apologized, took a step towards them to show our eagerness to make it up, and then wished them a great weekend. This made the guys smile and they even high-fived each other.  A minute later we were sitting by the fountain outside trying to calm down.

 

“So, remember, I’m a scientist.  I need you to make mental notes of things while it’s going on.  Even try to film it if you can.  Don’t stand in the room.  That little anteroom with the slanted glass windows will be a good place for you to be when you zap him.  Please don’t stop.  No matter how much he screams or begs you.  He needs the full dose for it to work.  And, for heaven’s sake, get rid of the gun as soon as you’re done.  You only have three minutes before it destroys itself. Oh, and please call me after the sex to tell me how it was.”

 

“There’s not going to be any sex, Betsy,” I said, looking away.

 

“By my calculations he’s going to be over-the-top horny after the change.  He’s going to be looking for an outlet to relieve a lot of built up sexual frustration.  No offense, but he’d probably do a horse if it was in the room.  I think, however, he’s going to be really, really happy it’s you. He’ll be out like a light after that, though, so you’ll be able to do some real-time reporting on the changes. Oh, good luck my dear Martin.  I’m so glad you’re about to have your dreams come true.”

 

And with that, Betsy hugged me again and watched me walk away with my guitar case containing the Zapper.   

 

**************

 

“Um . . . I’m really sorry about the other day, Martin . . . you know . . . when I didn’t stand up for myself in the bookstore.  I just don’t like . . . well, it’s more that I’m afraid of . . . you know . . . confrontation.”

 

“Uh huh,” I replied, not really listening to Amir.

 

I was busy getting everything ready.  We had finished eating – an entire meal where he had done exactly what he was doing now, apologizing for being such a wimp.  It had made me want to zap the guy even more.  I had begun to see Amir in a more honest light, now that I knew what he would become.  The guy had on a small t-shirt and the sleeves were still swallowing his arms. There wasn’t even the slightest bulge when he moved his arms.  His chest didn’t show at all through the material.  It was like the front of the guy was as flat as a board.  His shoulders sloped down like a wire hanger that has been bent.  The word ‘pencil neck’ seemed to have been made up just for him.  I had always thought he was just lightly smaller than normal size, but he was a lot less.  I knew I wanted Amir to change partly for me – I hoped when he got bigger he might send some affection my way – but I mostly wanted it for him.  I wanted him to not enter each day worried sick about being small and weak.  I didn’t want him to become some kind of hulking bully, but I did want him to feel like he could stand up for himself – like he could carry himself with a little more pride.  I was suddenly back listening to his long ramble.

 

“So, I was thinking I might actually go to a gym,” he said – not really talking with me, more like just putting words out into the air.

 

“Uh huh,” I responded as I pulled out the guitar case and then I handed him an extra large t-shirt. “Put this on.”

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

“I thought we’d do some painting,” I quickly said the first excuse that popped in my head and he accepted it, even though we’d never done something like that before.

 

“Oh, I love doing arts and crafts.  This thing is going to swallow me, though,” he said as he changed shirts.

 

“Not for long,” I answered softly, and he just kept on talking – the very non-Amir Harley-Davidson t-shirt did look like a dress on him.

 

“I know you’ve heard me say that about the gym before, but this time I mean it.  I mean, I may wait a while because since it’s still near the beginning of the year the gyms are full and I don’t want to be around a lot of other people.  You know . . . I’d rather the place be kind of empty.”

 

“Um . . . yeah,” I half-heartedly replied as I pulled out the ray gun.

 

“What’s that?” Amir asked.

 

“A new toy,” I replied.

 

“It looks like a gun. Is it dangerous?  I mean you can never be too safe with firearms, Martin.”

 

“That’s true,” I answered as I went to the little anteroom off of my living room as Betsy had instructed. She said it was important for me to be a good distance from Amir to get his entire body in the ray.

 

“What are you doing, Martin. Don’t point that thing at me.  You could cause an . . .”

 

Sometimes you just didn’t let doubts or thoughts about consequences get in your way.  I was so determined to help my friend, Amir, I just pointed the ray gun at him and pulled the trigger.  A green blast of light shot out of the thing and immediately enveloped the guy’s body.  It was like any living thing was a magnet for the beam.  It surrounded him completely.  Amir had turned away from me in fear and had crumpled his body into a squatting ball. As soon as the ray zapped him he began to scream like someone being murdered.  I did not waiver at all, though.  I remembered what Betsy had told me and I knew his body was going through a very painful transformation.  I kept my finger tightly on the trigger of the gun and I held the beam steady on the guy in front of me.  Suddenly, the very high-pitched screams of small Amir sank about three octaves lower and went from what sounded like a wounded animal to something akin to a gorilla in heat.  The room was now filled with this deep growl that clearly spoke of pleasure, not pain. In the middle of the neon green light I could now see that Amir was standing up with his arms flexed at his sides. The t-shirt that had swallowed him earlier was now tight across his back and massive arms filled the sleeves.  The damn zapper was working.  I had a huge room-length mirror on the wall across from us and I could see Amir clearly in its reflection.  The guy was looking at himself, too, and smiling like he was now being filled with much pleasure.  I was suddenly shocked to see that his once baby’s butt-smooth face was covered in some definite he-man thick fur.  Suddenly the zapper quit zapping and I realized my friend was no longer grunting loudly.  

 

“Fuuuuck, Martin. Look at me.  I’m huge,” Amir said in a gruff gravely voice that made my balls tighten.  “God, I can feel the power surging through my body.  My arms are enormous.  Look at my bulging shoulders.  I have a beard!  I have a face full of dark hair.  Look at that, I can bounce my pecs – damn, I have pecs that I can bounce!  I gotta flex.  I’m just too big not to flex.  Gotta see these huge things pumped to the max.  Oh fuck, look at how my arm swells.  Look at my fucking triceps!  Those mounds of beef almost hang to the floor!  Yeah, gotta flex ‘em tighter.  Look at that gun swell, Martin.  Let’s get a closer look.  Let’s get this sleeve out of the way.  Oh my fucking god, look at that sweet fucking split peak.  Look at my arm, Martin.  It’s the arm of a muscle god.  Look at how that thing explodes with power!”

 

I had now moved back into the room after dropping the zapper in a waiting bin I had bought for when it self-destructed.  There was not an ounce of dweebness left on my friend.  He was incredible.  His arm ballooned into a multi-layered muscle thickness that showed he was now this lean hulk of a man.  His deep voice, alone, was making me shoot hard, but the vision of all his new muscled hugeness was just mind-blowing.  The guy was flexing his huge arm over and over, marveling at how the thing bulged to unbelievable heights.  I still couldn’t fathom how the double extra large Harley-Davidson t-shirt now looked hot-as-hell stretched to the max across his new body.  And the full lumberjack beard made the guy orgasm-ready handsome in a way I could have never predicted.

 

“Look at how that thing bulges, Martin,” Amir continued – still clearly getting off on his improved body. “My arm is bigger than your head, dude. Look how powerful the thing looks. Let’s test these muther’s out.”

 

Amir dropped his arms and stepped in front of me.  He didn’t stop for a moment.  He simply grabbed me at the waist and lifted my entire body into the air – no warm up and no hesitation.  I went soaring upward, clearly as light as a feather to the new arms of Amir.  

 

“Oh hell yeah, dude! Lifting you into the air is no problem for my huge guns.  Damn, I wish the ceiling were higher so I could toss you high and catch you.  You weigh nothing, Martin.  You’re so small!” Amir boomed with childlike enthusiasm as he easily hoisted me up and down in the air.  “You feel like a baby in my big hands.  A sweet man-baby who has given me the best gift ever.  A fucking hot man that needs to be thanked.”

 

My body was lowered until I my face was even with the gorgeous man.  My feet were still not touching the ground.  Amir brought my body into his and I instantly felt hardness hitting me everywhere.  The dude was jacked beyond belief.  I let my hands go up to his biceps and I nearly came on the spot when I felt the split peaks which were insanely thick and hard as concrete.  Amir then kissed me roughly – an outward sign of the new confidence coursing through his body.   I was thrust into muscle heaven – a place I had a feeling I would come to know very well. This new attitude in my friend seemed to seep out of every pore.  He spoke out the corner of his mouth as we kissed, as if to confirm what I felt pulsing from his body.

 

“I hope you’re ready for a plowing, Martin,” Amir said, confidence oozing out of him.  “Cause I’m about to make you feel like an entire army has had their way with you.  What about it, you want to feel my muscles as I fill you with a specific huge muscle down below?”

 

“Oh yes, my huge muscled stud,” I said – still marveling at the words I had chosen to call my friend.

londonboy

tumblr_nnnsmeBDDK1tdw9neo1_400.gif

Who knows when or what causes a friendship to blossom into so much more.  Sam and I had hung out in the same crowd for about five years.  In the last year and a half we had actually started spending a lot of time doing things just the two of us.  It was a comfortable friendship – going out for drinks, catching a movie, grabbing a bite to eat, and stuff like that.  We weren’t similar in too many ways - he was into sports and a gym rat trying to grow big while I was working on my doctorate in Shakespearean Sonnets.  Yet, he had somehow gotten me to actually like watching rugby championships and he had become a huge fan of the Tony Awards – not wanting o miss one second of Broadway’s biggest night.   We also both had a secret love for romantic comedies.  We had been forced out of our rom-com closets when the local independent theatre had a special cram packed holiday screening of ‘Love Actually’ and our assigned seats ended up being right beside each other.  After trying to find a million excuses of why we were there we both eventually confessed up to our guilty pleasure.  

 

It was a cold Saturday night in November and Sam was spending the evening at my place to finally marathon watch and prove to each other which was a better movie – ‘When Harry Met Sally’ or ‘Sleepless in Seattle.’  I was a big old fan of the Tom Hank, Meg Ryan heartbreaker turns happy film, while he said Meg did her best stuff with Billy Crystal in the multiple year spanning classic.  We both knew the other guy probably held the two movies in equal esteem, but the debate gave us an ‘out’ for having the movie marathon, pasta dinner evening, anyway. We had finished dinner, finished the movie, and were presently sitting on the sofa finishing what was the second bowl of popcorn for the evening.  The conversation lulled a little and our hands touched as we grabbed for popcorn at the same time.  The quickness and the force with which we both pulled back our arms was immediately funny and intriguing at the same time.  We both noticed it.

 

“After you,” I said – glancing at him and then looking at the television – black because it had been turned off a while ago.

 

“No, I insist.  You first,” Sam responded – and I could tell he was still looking at me.

 

“You’re the guest,” I said, turning back to him and trying my best to not show that this little stupid exchange had really wrecked me.

 

“Surely, I’m beyond guest status,” he said and we both laughed.

 

“Yes, yes you are,” I agreed, reaching in to get a handful of popcorn.

 

Looking back on the evening now, we are able to acknowledge from that moment on our conversation turned into what would surely be labeled the horrible dialogue from a very bad porno movie, but when you are in the budding throes of new passion you simply are unaware . . . or you simply don’t care.  We both think – with a better script – the evening would make for a great romantic comedy.  Sam started us on our trip into the world of poor screenwriters.

 

“I pulled a trap muscle in the gym, today.  You wouldn’t mind massaging it a little, would you?” he asked.

 

“Of course not,” I replied, “If only I knew what a trap muscle was.”

 

This made him laugh – something that had never made my stomach do leaps until that moment.  I forced myself to not smile uncontrollably – something I always did to cover up my nervousness.  Sam pointed up to a knotted mass of muscled next to his neck – bulging noticeably upward under his shirt.  I reached up, hoping to hell he did not notice that my hand was shaking and grabbed hold of the hardness under the fabric – shocked at how big and stone-like this particular part of his body felt.  I definitely knew I did not have traps that were noticeable.  At first, it felt like I was trying to knead concrete – and then I realized I’d have to use a lot more pressure than I had anticipated. I gripped his trap muscle harder and started squeezing strongly.  He winced a little and let out a little moan.  I immediately stopped.

 

“I’m sorry, does that hurt?” I asked.    

 

“In a good way,” he replied with his eyes closed.  “Keep going, I can tell it’s going to help.”

 

I squeezed again – even harder than before and he emitted a low ‘yeah’ and eased toward me a little. I reached up with my other hand and gave him a massage with both of them.  This seemed to increase the pain for him – judging by the way h winced, but he certainly sounded like what I was doing was pleasurable.

 

“Get up on the sofa behind me,” he said, “So you can get at it from a better angle.”

 

This seemed totally logical and there was nothing weird about m sitting with his back between my spread legs a few minutes later as I gladly gripped both trap muscles with my hands and squeezed as if my life depended on it.  I could feel myself wanting to give Sam the massage of his lifetime.  I wanted him to keep making the loud pleasure sounds that were presently escaping his mouth.  I was so intent on my job I hadn’t even realized I was now fully hard in my jeans and pressing my crotch against his hard muscled upper back to give myself some more pleasure.

 

“The material of your shirt keeps getting in the way,” I seriously said in all innocence.  “Why don’t you take it off?”

 

He leaned forward and had the thing off so quickly I almost wondered how it had happened.  He leaned back against me, as if even a slight separation of our bodies might make us lose momentum for whatever this was turning into.  We were both aware of how much all of this was turning on the other guy, but that really didn’t enter into our consciousness fully.  We just wanted to continue moving forward and see where all of this led us.

 

“God, your hands feel so good, man,” he said – and it sounded as if he were lost in some kind of trance.

 

“Your muscles feel good, too,” I said – without any hesitation and without even thinking about it afterwards.  

 

Sam brought his arms up into a double biceps pose.  I’d never seen him do that before.  His arms ballooned up with muscle.  I moaned out loud and slid my hands onto the big guns below me.  He actually gasped and his body shook as I groped the big mounds. 

 

“Yeah, feel those big things, man.  You like my arms, don’t you?” Sam said, and I swear it sounded as if he were some other guy – all cocky and masculine.

 

“So much,” I said, softly, and noticed my answer made him shake again.

 

I looked down and saw that his crotch was packed with something big and hard, just as mine was. His entire upper body seemed so huge, so powerful.  I was entranced with all of his muscles.  My right hand moved to his bulging triceps, to stead myself as my other hand moved from his biceps down to hi massive pec – letting his nipple be teased between two fingers.  He was watching my hands closely – clearly loving the way I was making him feel.  I pressed in harder, hoping to make his steel-like body feel my adoration.  His pleasure moans told me I was succeeding.  He turned his face upward, letting the back of his head bump into my raging hard-on.  His eyes told me what to do.  I brought my lips down to his – while he continued to flex and I continued to grope. It was a kiss for the ages.  His bristled stubble felt incredible against my face.  He tightened his arms even more and made the big bulging peaks go higher.  He clearly wanted to make me happy.  I groped harder, rubbed his muscled body even more, and purred like a kitten.  

 

“God, I love your beard,” I said out of the side of our mouth – not letting our kiss end.  

 

“I think I’ve secretly wanted you to say that for a very long time,” he responded.  “And I think I’ve wanted you to feel my muscles for a very long time, too.  A very long time.”

 

“This feels so good,” I said, kissing him harder.

 

“This feels so right,” he said, reaching around my head with his left hand and pulling my face into his even more.  

londonboy

d16ea3110d1e20d566c60ed30a8d211e.jpg

“When I get around you,” the big man said, “I just can’t help myself.  I have to take my clothes off or, at least, open my shirts to show off what’s underneath.”

 

“I’m not complaining,” I smiled – my eyes slurping up the beefiness of the elder man’s chest.  God, he was gorgeous.

 

“I also worry about how strong my desire consumes me,” he continued.  “I get so worked up I want to squeeze the hell out of you.  I want to hold you so tightly that you become one with me.  It’s the wildest sensation – this awareness that being around you might make me unable to control myself.”

 

“I’m thankful you’re able to contain the beast within,” I said, stepping closer to him and getting a strong, knock-you-off your-feet whiff of his musky daddy-ness.  It was a mixture of lumberjack cologne, pumped-muscle sweat, and testosterone-laden power that was reserved for just a few older alpha males.  

 

My approach made his chest heave fuller and his breathing deepened – sounding more like a ready-to-stampede bull than just a very large man.  The popping out of his fucking huge nubs actually widened the expanse of his shirt when they pushed the heavy fabric open more.  Damn, how could nipples look so muscular?

 

“I seriously have a hard time controlling myself, bud,” he confessed with more seriousness in his voice than I anticipated.  He then added, “I make sure I go and lift for at least an hour or two before I come to see you – so my body is a little worn out and weaker.  It doesn’t seem to help, though.  As soon as I’m around you every fiber of my big body is instantly rejuvenated to a level of strength way beyond what it was before.  It’s like you fuel me with some kind of juice that kicks up my power a lot.”

 

“It’s like I’m some kind of muscle daddy steroid, huh?” I asked, teasingly.  I held up my hands so they were about a half of inch from his huge pecs.  He inhaled quickly and deeply – and I hadn’t even touched him, yet.  

 

“Something like that,” he said so softly it was barely a whisper.  He was gazing into my eyes as if I held all the answers to the mysteries of the world.  “You make me want to use my power . . . a power I don’t even realize I have.”

 

“And I just want you to keep me surrounded with that power,” I answered.

 

“That can be easily arranged,” he said in reply.  

 

“How about you give me one of those super muscle daddy power squeezes right now,” I continued.

 

The shirt fell to the floor. Huge granite arm engulfed my body. A salt and pepper goatee started to scrape against my neck and cheek.  My entire body was lifted off the floor.  The big man emitted deep animalistic grunts as he slowly shoved his substantial hard package against mine.  Biceps tightened and the big things pressed into me with a force that made it hard to breathe.  We were teetering between pleasure and pain.  I could tell he was struggling to control himself.

 

Through gritted teeth he whispered into my ear, “Must not squeeze harder.” 

 

“Good job, my muscle daddy,” I whispered back.  “Control the beast.”

londonboy

Mr. Strong

At age fifteen I could curl the front end of our family station wagon.  I was a pimply-faced skinny kid but I could grab hold of the front bumper and easily raise the car up to my chest – or higher.  It was like I was lifting a pencil or something smaller and I usually did it with only one hand.  My dad was impressed beyond belief.  He’d invite neighbors over to have me show off my strength – something I was glad to do because making him proud was slowly becoming a lifelong goal.  The old wagon would squeal from discomfort as I pumped out reps for the audience.  Some of my dad’s best friends freaked out a little at my strength and then ignored him after that, but he didn’t care.  He said he was proud because his son was a hundred times stronger than their sons. As a matter of fact, he said, his son was a lot stronger than all his friends put together.  At age eighteen I was able to crumple my dad’s steel toolbox into a small blob – no bigger than a baseball – while it was still filled to the brim with tools.  The feeling of the thing being easily manipulated into nothingness by my powerful hands thrilled me tremendously.  Watching me do it thrilled my dad.  He didn’t care about the tools, saying he didn’t need them anymore since he had me.  He said there was no tool made that could do all the things I was capable of.  For my twenty-first birthday my dad allowed me to compress the old station wagon into a small cube – by pushing it against the side of our garage.  My dad actually wept as he watched me destroy the car.  He also noticed the hard-on in my pants as I easily crumpled the thing into a small pile of junk with only my strong arms and legs.  He never mentioned it, but I think he thought it only right that I should get off on my own strength.  This year, four days after my twenty-fifth birthday my dad shot me - yep, shot me.  I was lifting shirtless in the backyard – some humongous cement blocks my dad had gotten a buddy to make for me - and he stepped in front of me, pointed a gun, said, “I’ve got a theory,” and shot.  His theory ended up being right – even though he scared the hell out of me – the bullet flattened against my chest and then fell to the ground.  I barely even felt it.  My dad simply shook his head from side to side and then went back inside.

 

I picked up the demolished scrap of metal and flattened it even more between my finger and thumb – into something as thin as tissue.  My body had just deflected a bullet – at very close range.  My cock wasn’t just raging into one of the hardest boners of my lifetime at that moment – it was also leaking big gobs of pre-cum.  I was just so freaking turned on by my own strength. My chest had stopped a flying bullet as the thing flattened against my skin.  I tensed my normal looking pecs and let my mind fully realize just how powerful I was – contemplating all the other things my body could probably stop. I wanted to have a speeding car slam into me.  I wanted to stand there calmly as a charging rhino plowed into me.  I knew it would be fun to let a wrecking ball be deformed as it smashed against my body.  These thoughts excited me to unbelievable new heights.  I was close to orgasm, but I willed my body to stop.  I was trying to learn how to control myself completely.      

 

I simply could do things no one else could.  It was plain and simple.  There seemed to be no limit to my strength.  I once moved the city’s water tower about twenty yards just to see if I could – and to mess with people’s minds.  It was a breeze.  I just ripped it out of the ground by pulling on one leg and then walked it over to its new spot.  I loved reading in the newspaper all the theories of what had happened over the next few weeks – aliens, army helicopters, massive cranes, and more. No one ever even dreamed it was some average looking young adult that had basically one-armed the massive thing from it’s cement mooring and then slammed it into the ground somewhere new. The papers did say that it was a hell of a lot more stable in its new space.  That made me feel even better about what I had done.  When my dad read about the event he glanced at me at the breakfast table, smiled, and said, “Just don’t get caught.  We need to keep this kind of strength a secret.  It’s one thing to lift the back of a car, but this ripping up huge structures is something many people wouldn’t understand.” I instinctively knew he was right. I also figured I shouldn’t tell my dad that I had spurted a full load of cum into my underwear as I ripped the water tower from the ground.  It was a pleasant surprise, but I got a little freaked out by the uncontrollable reaction my body had to my incredible strength.  I quickly figured it was just going to take some time to get used to all the things I could do.  I had a feeling I’d be spurting a lot more in the future.

 

Another time, I snuck down to the place where they parked all the city busses and stacked three of the things on top of each other – just for fun.  It was a blast grabbing the back end of one of the big vehicles and swinging the thing into the air above my head – front end sticking straight up. I knew I shouldn’t let anyone catch me doing it, but I so longed to show off for people.  Balancing a bus in the palm of your hand is fun and all, but having somebody watching you do it would be a lot more fulfilling.  And what if the person watching loved it as much as I did – that would be killer, too.  I got in a little trouble for stacking the busses, though.  Again, the paper revealed my playtime by running a string of pictures with the headline, “Crane Silently Manhandles Busses Overnight.” No one knew how close to being spot-on they were when they used the word ‘manhandle.’  My dad said I was pushing my luck with that stunt – especially since the lot had numerous guards on duty.  I was grounded for three days.  The idea of being punished was kind of crazy.  Both my dad and I knew he couldn’t do anything to really stop me, but we also both knew that pleasing him was the most important thing in the world to me – so I actually stayed in the house during those three days.  I, of course, found things to do to while away the hours – like demolishing cinder blocks and compressing radiators with my bare hands – but I did stay in the house.  

 

I did a few things without anyone ever noticing, too.  One such act was spending a few hours down at the rock quarry and pounding out about twenty feet worth of huge chunks of stone with my fists – something that would have taken the machines a few days to accomplish.  I also took one of the big boulders, tossed it in the air, and let it come crashing down on top of my head – loving how it shattered upon contact into a bunch of small pieces.  I decided that was so much fun that I did it with all the biggest rocks.  I then hand crushed a bunch of the smaller pieces just to really freak out the workers the next day.  They were going to be completely baffled at how they had all suddenly forgotten how far along they were in the quarry.  They were also going to be baffled as to what made such perfect gravel.  It was awesome being super strong – feeling solid rock being easily crushed within my hand or squeezing a radiator as if it were a Styrofoam cup.  I wasn’t some mountainous muscle guy performing all these amazing stunts – I was just some normal looking twenty-something year old rocking a major boner as he did stuff no one else on earth probably even dreamed of. The other secret feat was to help out a friend’s father.  He owned an apple orchard and I heard his crew up and quit on him one day – something about finding a better job elsewhere.  I knew my friend’s family depended on the money from the orchard to pay the bills.  It was time for the apples to be picked – but there was no way the family of three could get it done before all the apples rotted.  I went over one night and simply walked up and down the rows of trees and shook them.  Every darn apple fell from the tree that night.  I heard a few days later that the family had been able to save their entire crop because of what I had done.  That made me very happy.  All of these thoughts were racing through my head as I finished my afternoon workout – which was really useless since I couldn’t actually get any stronger.  I just did it to show off and get a rise out of certain parts of my body.          

 

After we had cleaned the dishes from dinner that night my dad invited me to sit down at the table – for a little discussion, he said.  I could tell my dad had something important to say, so I didn’t complain. Usually, I’d go down to the basement and find something thick to twist until it was unrecognizable – like a wrench or a big piece of rebar.  My dad got us both a beer – holding them out for me to flic the tops off with my thumbnail. We’d gotten rid of the bottle opener a long time ago.  I took a quick chug of my drink.  

 

“Watching you do that will never get old,” my pop said proudly.  “You can do a hell of a lot more powerful things than that, but sometimes it’s the every day stuff that impresses me the most.”

 

“Like when I lift a piece of furniture so you can vacuum under it?” I asked – knowing the answer already.

 

“Yeah, like that,” he replied and then he took a sip of his beer. 

 

“Or when I lift the SUV so you can clean it’s under belly?” I asked, teasing him even more.

 

“Yeah, like that, too,” he said, smiling because he knew I was playing with him.  

 

“Or when I stop bullets?” I asked, knowing full well I was treading on some thin ice.  I wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about that.

 

After a brief pause my dad said, “You know that no one else can do the things you do, right son?”

 

“Are you kidding, dad? All the guys at school can take a bullet in the chest,” I said, laughing.  

 

The look he gave me made it clear that this was not a time for joking.  I shifted in my chair a little and took another sip of my beer. I suddenly realized that I would not be able to share a few laughs with my dad and then get back downstairs to all that waited for me to come and manipulate it into nothing.  I was going to be here with my dad for a while. Again, I realized he had something very important to say.

 

 “What do you want to do with your life, son?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know.  I’m still wondering if photography is my thing. I still really like it,” I replied, trying to figure out where all of this was headed.

 

“Did you ever feel like you were destined for something else - something big?” he inquired, softly.

 

“You mean like moving from here or something like that?  Naw, dad, I like it here with you,” I answered.

 

“Why do you think you were given such super strength?” he continued.

 

“I don’t know.  I guess it just happened.  I got the luck of the draw or something.  Or maybe it’s so I can freak people out,” I said – falling back into a little humor, which made my dad smile.

 

“You mean like the time you tossed Jimmy Stinson thirty feet into a pile of hay?” my dad asked.

 

“Yeah!” I said and we both laughed. 

 

“Son, what if you could do powerful things and didn’t have to worry about people seeing – well, some people, that is,” my dad said, and his look told me he was very serious.

 

“You know I’ve always wanted to show people my strength, dad, but you said I shouldn’t,” I replied, eager to see where this conversation was going.

 

“But what if you used your strength to help people . . . to help the city . . . without anyone knowing it was you,” he said – and there was great purpose in his voice.

 

“I don’t understand, Pop,” I replied, confused.

 

“What if we put you in a costume.  You know, like a superhero and you went around doing things to help people . . . or, better yet, stopped people who were doing bad things,” he added, knowing exactly what to say to get me more excited.

 

Suddenly, it was like Pandora’s box had been opened in my brain.  I immediately thought about all the things I could do if I was disguised. The idea of being a superhero had actually never entered my mind.  I found that shocking.  The idea of taking on criminals instantly pleased me.  Watching their surprised expressions at all I could do – that would be amazing.  I began to imagine all the things that I had never been able to do in front of other people and, now, my dad was giving me a way to do it.   

 

“Another thing son,” my dad said, interrupting my thoughts.  “I’m sorry your mom’s not here to see the man you’ve become.  She’d be real proud of you.  No child should have to lose a parent to cancer – especially when they’re just five years old.  I’m sorry I never remarried.”

 

“You were all I ever needed, dad,” I replied.  “I wish mom was here, too, but don’t think for a second that you haven’t helped make me who I am today.”  

 

“That makes me happy to hear it, son,” my dad said.  “How about we get some things done as we continue to talk.  I haven’t cleaned under the fridge for about a year.  You think you could give me a hand with that.”

 

“That’s all it will take, pop, one hand,” I said, making him smile.

 

I bent down and slid my right hand under the double-sided fridge.  I clamped down with a grip that would hold it in place, but wouldn’t demolish stainless steel.  I looked up to make sure my dad was watching, cause I knew he always liked to.  I could see the pride radiate off of his face when I did something other men couldn’t.  I weighed one hundred and forty-five pounds and was five feet six inches tall.  I figured most big guys would call me a dweeb and I would actually love it.  For at that moment this dweeb raised his hand in the air and the huge fridge went upward with it.  Not rocking back and forth or wobbly as if I was straining at all, the thing went airborne as steady as if I were lifting cardboard.  I stayed squatting so I could lift the thing fully over my head – our ceiling wasn’t that high.  While my dad rain a vacuum cleaner and a mop in the space underneath, I did straight-arm lifts with the big thing just to show off.  My mind still hadn’t gotten use to comprehending the things I could do.  It knew the fridge was supposed to be heavy and I’m sure it sent messages to that affect to my arm – but my skinny limb wasn’t listening.  It lifted the big appliance with ease.  My cock was throbbing.  I decided that where my thumb rested was a place on the fridge that would never be seen, so I pressed in harder.  I didn’t just leave a thumbprint - I left a thumb indentation with barely any effort at all.  Shoving in steel was a breeze and that only turned me on more.

 

“Um, I’m done, son. You can put it down, now,” my dad finally said after he had moved away and I continued to lift the thing up and down.

 

“Sorry about that, Pops. I was having too much fun,” I said, placing the thing back on the floor.

 

“I knew you were, son. How many dents from fingers would I find if I was able to look down there?” he asked, teasingly.

 

“Only one from my thumb, sir,” I replied, turning red because he knew me so well.  “It’s just so easy to do.”

 

“Well it’s fine unless you break the thing,” he answered back.  “We’ll need to do the oven differently.  You can’t lift it because it’s attached to the wall for gas, but how about you hold me upside down so I can get the long tube of this vacuum underneath?  It’ll wreck my knees if I bend down to do it.”

 

My Pops had no idea what this particular action would do to me.  I had a big old fetish for showing off my strength using men’s bodies.  My dad was brawny.  Most people would have even called him handsome.  I wasn’t turned on by him, though.  I liked men that were big – bodybuilder size or larger.  It was fun thinking about them freaking out when I was able to lift more than them.  Much more than them.  But it was even more exciting when I daydreamed about lifting the bodybuilder, himself.  The thought of making a huge man feel weak by shocking him with my strength always made more excited than anything else.  I knew the second I grabbed my bid dad and held him upside down I would get the kind of boner that, in the past, had easily ripped through my underwear and jeans. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and then grabbed my waiting dad by the waist and turned his body upside down in my hand without any problem.  My cock twitched hard within seconds.  I continued to breathe deeply as I held my dad near the front of the stove. Somehow, I was able to prevent myself from ruining my pants.  My dad eventually turned off the vacuum.

 

“You can put me right now, son, I’m getting a little dizzy,” he said.

 

I turned him right side up and placed him back down on the ground.  I instinctively knew I could not have handled much more of holding him in the air so easily.  It was impossible for him to not notice my raging hard on threatening to burst through the material at my crotch.  I turned a darker shade of red and through my hands down in front of my hard on.

 

“No need to be embarrassed, son,” my dad said, surprising me.  “I guess if I were able to manhandle a grown man that easily I’d get a little turned on, too.  Or maybe a lot turned on.  It just means we’re going to have to make sure your superhero costume is super strong down there.  We can have you being charged for indecent exposure every time you take care of the bad guys with your bare hands.  Let’s stack all the kitchen furniture on the table and you can hold it up while I mop the floor.  You don’t mind holding it while everything dries, do you?”

 

“No sir,” I said, thankful that we could move on to something other than my hardened cock.

 

I placed a loaded bookcase, some chairs, and a credenza on top of the big, sturdy kitchen table and then lifted the thing like it was simply a pizza box.  I held everything in the air with one hand – making sure not too lift it too high and hit the ceiling.  My dad stood there staring at me for a while – simply amazed at the sight of his son holding so much stuff easily with one hand.  He pulled out his phone and took a picture – another one added to an album he had labeled ‘every day super feats.’  While he mopped he continued our earlier conversation.

 

“So I’m thinking you’ll love it when you’re finally able to do things like crush revolvers into blobs of metal, easily hold getaway cars in the air, or take on a gang of men and not need to hold back, huh?” he asked, not realizing what his words did to me.

 

“I’ve wanted that for so long, pops,” I replied, placing my free hand over my crotch again – thankful that my dad was busy mopping and not looking at me. “Don’t you think I need to train first, dad?”

 

“Train?” he said, stopping and looking at me.  “Your chest stopped a bullet.  I’ve seen you jump completely over tall oak trees without really trying.  You ruined the engines of two bulldozers when we chained them to your arms and they both lost at tug of war at the same time.  And don’t think I don’t know it was you that ripped the door off the giant safe down at First Federal when you were sixteen. The paper reported something like finger marks in the thick steel – and everyone was shocked nothing was stolen. I should have grounded you, but I knew you were just testing your strength.  How can I punish someone for just playing?  Besides, I was proud as hell that something that indestructible was so easy for you.”

 

“It really was, pops. I didn’t even break a sweat,” I said, proudly.  

 

“So what in the hell do you have to train for, son?” he asked.  “Now that I know bullets can’t hurt you, I’m not worried.  It’s not like you’re going to feel some guy’s punches or not be able to stop a speeding car.  Which is something I’d actually like to see you do.”

 

“You get off on my strength, don’t you, dad?” I asked without even thinking about what I was saying.

 

“Not in the same way that you do, son,” he said, suddenly serious.  “We’re so similar in ways, but not when it comes to things we love.  I’m proud of what you can do – the way a dad might feel when his son catches his first fish or wins his first fifty-yard dash. I just get to set my sights a lot higher because you’re so super strong.  Some dad’s get to see their son score a touchdown.  I get to see my son throw a riding lawn mower demolished by his own hands so far into the air that it incinerates as it attempts to leave the atmosphere.  And let’s be clear about something very important.  I loved your mom very much.  That was right for me.  I don’t give a damn about who you love, son.  I mean it.  You can love anyone you want to.  I just want you to be happy and find the same kind of relationship I had.  I’m proud of you just as you are.  Do you understand me?”

 

Tears welled up in my eyes. We had never spoken about this before. I’m sure he had seen my stash of bodybuilding magazines or even seen porn on my computer.  I knew he knew I was gay.  But we never spoke about it.  It was the only thing I had ever even contemplated as a way I had let him down. He leaned the mop against the fridge and walked over to give me a manly hug.  I was still holding all the kitchen furniture overhead and the tall man had to duck to reach me – but it was the best and most important hug he’d ever given. Tears continued to run down my face as I nodded profusely affirming I understood while he stared at me.

 

“So, that bullshit’s out of the way, huh?” he said as he turned away and I could tell h was choked up, too.  “I will add this, though, son.  You are going to need one of those giant strongmen you fancy as a partner.  I guarantee one of them is going to be the only person on earth that can handle you being so strong and indestructible. I think most men are going to be jealous as hell at your abilities, so it’s going to take someone who’s strong – you know in the normal kind of way – and someone who’s really happy with their own size to embrace you completely.  And when you find the right guy, and you’ll know it when you have, I figure it will be fine for you to share with him honestly what you can do. Be prepared for him to not be able to handle it and maybe leaving you – but you’ll have, at least, been honest. I seriously think that won’t happen, though.  I think you’ll find someone that loves you just as you are . . . like me.  The floor’s been dry for a while, son.  You can put everything away now.  And for god’s sake quit hiding your magazines. You think your old man can’t handle you liking musclemen?  I mean, your own strength turns you on more than anything and that doesn’t bother me.”

 

I had placed everything back by this point and had returned to sitting at the table.  My dad had emptied the mop bucket and retrieved two more beers before joining me.  He placed his big hand on mine and smiled at me.  I was so confused by the man emotions racing through my head, but, above all, I was very happy.  I was also relieved.  There were no more secrets . . . well, about my sexuality, that is.  There were a lot more secrets about super strength stuff I had secretly done over the years, but I didn’t think this was the time to confess those.  Besides, I really was surprised – foolishly – that he knew I had been the one to rip the door off the safe.  He brought his beer up before me and I brought mine up to his to say cheers.  

 

“So, no more hiding hard-ons, or jeans where the crotch has been ripped off, or re-plastering and painting your ceiling to cover up the holes you’ve made, okay?” he asked and he immediately could tell all this honesty was wrecking me.  

 

“Yes sir,” I replied. 

 

“So, how about ‘Mr. Strong’?” he asked.

 

“Excuse me?” I said.

 

“How about ‘Mr. Strong’ as your superhero name?” he clarified.  “It’s what you are.  You’re fucking strong . . . in every way.”

 

I let the name roll around in my head for a few seconds and realized I loved it.  I hadn’t really thought about all the things that would come with this plan my dad had set out for me.  I guess a hero name would be important – especially if things started appearing in the paper or on television.

 

“I like it,” I replied. “I think it also gives me permission to show off a little, too.  To prove to people that it’s the right name.

 

“Exactly,” he agreed. “And now we just need to think of the right costume for you.”

 

“Well, I’m not wearing a leotard,” I said.  “I don’t have the body for it.”

 

“I agree, son, but we do need something that will keep your identity a secret, but be something you don’t mind wearing, either,” he replied.

 

“I don’t want a cape, either,” I said.  

 

“Well, tell me some heroes you like and maybe that will give me an idea,” my dad suggested.

 

“Well, I’ve always liked the strength of Hulk,” I answered.

 

“Green is definitely out and you need to cover your body,” my dad responded.

 

“Well, there’s Ironman, but I don’t feel like wearing a big awkward suit.  I do really like Jason Statham in The Transporter . . .” I continued, but then was interrupted.

 

“That’s it!  A suit.  Something classy like that would make it even more surprising when you do amazing feats of strength.  And it doesn’t matter if you're small, everyone looks good in a suit,” he said.

 

“Hey, wait a minute,” I complained.

 

“No time to lose, I need to get started.  Make sure you do your homework,” dad said as he got up from the table.

 

“Dad, I’m twenty-five years old!” I exclaimed.

 

“Oh yeah,” he said, coming out of his excited on track focus.  “Happy Birthday, son.  You’ll find some presents in the living room.  I’m going to go out to my workroom for a while.”

 

And then he was off.

londonboy

Positive Side Effects

704729758e8762ec6a05bed2f8cf5265.gif

Jerry and I didn’t know each other before we were assigned by General Thompson to be part of some special secret maneuvers starting on base the next day.  We were both two twenty something pencil neck geeks who did office work on different sides of the largest army facility on the continent. It was bigger than some capital cities, so there was no reason we would have ever been in contact before.  I quickly figured out we’d be typing some secret document that needed two people so we’d each be given half the information so we’d never know what all of it was about.  When I met Jerry the next morning he thought the same thing.  Jerry looked like me – two guys in our twenties that constantly got carded because people said we looked no more than twelve. I’d say we were clean-shaven, but the truth was neither of us could grow a beard . . . let alone a mustache.  We both had crew cuts that were borderline bald heads and we weighed no more than 250 pounds combined.  I was happy to hear that my 130 pounds made me bigger.  We got along immediately and that was a good thing, since we were told this secret maneuver could take a while.  

 

When we arrived we were told that we would be alone for most of the time, so doctors were going to check and make sure we were healthy enough to do the job.  I thought for heaven’s sake, I can still type when I have a cold.  The so-called check up was a lot more complicated than I had anticipated – including hearing tests, eyesight tests, and reflex tests.  Jerry thought it was a little odd, too, but we both let it go to the bizarre nature that is the bureaucracy of the army.  After the physical exam we were loaded in the back of a truck with no windows, locked in, and then transferred some forty minutes away to a small compound.  

 

Once we were let out of the truck we were shown around.  There was a kitchen, loaded with food.  There was a recreational area that even included a gym, which made Jerry and I look at each other with faces that said we’d both be spending a lot more time on the Xbox over at the sofa area.   The compound area was not huge and not small.  I didn’t think either of us would start going stir crazy any time soon.  I did wonder why there was a huge thick metal gate, high walls with shards of glass and barbed wire around the place, however.  Was it to keep other people out or us in?  I began to think they were going to leave us here a really long time and it was a psychological test to see who went crazy first.   And on that note, the team that brought us in wished us luck, loaded up, and exited – shutting and locking the gate with a loud bang.  Then there was silence.  I could tell Jerry was as nervous as I was.

 

“Don’t worry, Spencer, there are cameras everywhere, so they must be watching us.  We’ll be fine.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed them, too. But don’t you find it odd that we weren’t assigned any tasks.”

 

“Damn, I hadn’t thought about that,” Jerry replied – and he got a slightly worried look, which was soon erased when he added, “Xbox time?”

 

“For sure,” I answered and we started toward the rec room.

 

Our journey took us about five steps and then we heard a noise that made us both stop.  It sounded like it could be something far away, but you really couldn’t be sure.  I wondered if it were rain . . . or a sandstorm, which only happened in this area once in a blue moon.  Jerry saw what was making the sound first.

 

“What’s that?” he asked pointing.  

 

At first I thought it was a cloud . . . or even rain, but then I saw that it was a smoke of some kind. On closer look I saw it was a mist-like fog that was being pumped into the compound through large vents that I suddenly realized were completely around the inside of the wall, on the walls of buildings, and even inside the buildings.  

 

“Um . . . Jerry, I don’t think this is good.  Quick, find a place where we can hide from that stuff.”

 

My words were useless, though.  We both started to move quickly but since there were so many vents and they were everywhere, soon we were completely enveloped in the chemical smelling smoke. I held my breath as long as I could and I saw Jerry doing the same thing, but my body immediately registered that the liquid from the mist was seeping into the pores of my body.  Both of us were suddenly thrown into spasms that brought us to our knees.  As soon as I was forced to inhale I let out a loud scream as the vapor invaded my body and caused an even more painful reaction.  I fell on my side and as my body tensed into a rigid state I got a glimpse of what was happening because I looked at Jerry.  The changes I saw rippling across him mirrored what I felt in my own body.  And then the pain abruptly stopped, because there was unconsciousness.

 

When I was thirteen I had to wear a cast on my arm for three months.  Every morning during that time when I woke up the weight of the thing would immediately register in my brain.  As I began to regain consciousness it felt like I had a cast covering every part of my body.  It wasn’t the same ‘contained’ feeling that I remembered from the cast, but the sense of a kind of thickness and added weight seemed to surround me.  I also itched in so many places – my head, my face, my chest, my arms, my leg, and even my stomach.  Suddenly I realized there was something that sounded like the grunts of a wild animal nearby, but then I realized it was coming from me.  I could tell I was moaning from pain and from some other unknown feeling, but the sound was actually deep and beastlike.  I opened my eyes and saw blue sky.  The mist was totally gone.  I used my army skills to deduct it was about three in the afternoon – navigating by the sun’s placement.  Its brightness blinded me a little so when I turned to look at Jerry at first I didn’t see a thing.

 

I noticed his hair first – on his head and his face.  It looked like his hair had been untouched for many weeks – it was still a regulation cut but it was so much longer than it had been.  Also, the heavy beard on his face made it clear that he had not shaved for that long, as well.  I began to think we had been out for many days – that is, until I looked closer at Jerry’s body.  It was clear the small man had added a lot of mass to his physique.  He was what I would call ripped.  He looked to have gained at least fifty pounds of pure muscle, if not more.  His arms were thicker and much more muscled.  His chest actually protruded out like he hit the gym on a regular basis.  All of this was still noticeable through his t-shirt and fatigues.  That’s when it dawned on me what I had been feeling earlier.  I sat up quickly and looked at myself.  I fucking had a chest.  I looked down and there were two well-shaped, hard, heavy hanging pecs that stretched out my shirt.  I looked at my arms and saw thickness that I had never thought possible for me.  I flexed a gun and my heart beat faster when I saw it peak up strongly.  I ran my hand across my face and felt thick fur – like what Jerry had.  I had a full beard . . . a damn good full beard.  And I had a lot more hair.  I felt my legs and could tell they were huge.  I simply started feeling my entire enhanced body.

 

“Should I leave you alone?” Jerry asked, jokingly, and I immediately turned red when I looked at him.

 

“Jerry, your gorgeous and huge!” I shouted jumping up.  

 

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself, sailor. Come here often,” he teased as he was standing.  

 

It dawned on both of us at the same time that we were taller.  We could just tell when we stood up.  Things looked differently, they felt differently, and our bodies had just needed to adapt for all the growth.

 

“We’re tall!” he screamed, hearing his voice for the first time, “And I have a manly voice!”

 

“And a manly bearded face, not to mention a manly body,” I replied.

 

“And you as well!” Jerry said, suddenly taking time to feel himself all over, just as I had been doing. Just as I still was doing.  “Man, we make it sound like we have the hot for each other.”

 

“Yeah, how crazy is that,” I said, laughing, but the words didn’t ring true for some reason.  “God, I’m starved.”

 

“Me, too.  Let’s go put that kitchen to good use,” he said.

 

We each ended up having three chicken breasts, an omelet made with twelve eggs, and two full skillets of fried potatoes.  I was on my third apple as Jerry tossed the peel of his fourth banana into the trashcan. He rubbed his belly and let out a low rumbling like belch that seemed to make the wall shake.  

 

“I’m still hungry as hell,” he said – even as his gaze went across the big room to where the weights were. “But I think I’ll work out for a while.”

 

I glanced over to where he was looking and was caught off guard by my desire to go over there and pick up dumbbells, barbells, or whatever you called all the big things that sat on the matted area of the floor.  I had never been to a gym.  It just hadn’t interested me.  Well, if the truth be told, I knew my scrawny body would look stupid in one.  That inhibition was completely gone now.

 

“Have you ever lifted weights before?” I asked.

 

“Only if you count the half gallon jug that gave me trouble when I lifted it from the fridge, he replied.

 

“Me either.  Those big things are kind of calling out to me, though. Like, if I don’t lift I’m not going to be happy.”

 

“Yeah, I’m feeling the same way,” Jerry said as he stepped up to a loaded bar that was set up for benching.  “My calculations say this is four hundred pounds, Spencer.  That’s a lot right?”

 

“Definitely more than the milk jug,” I chuckled and then saw him straddle the bench facing the bar. “I don’t know much about weightlifting, Jerry, but I do know if you are going to bench a bar in the air you need to lay . . . “

 

My sentence ended abruptly as I watched Jerry wrap his hands under the loaded bar and easily raise it up to his chest like it was light as a feather.  He then lowered it and raised it quickly three times – I think those were called repetitions or something like that.  I knew, instinctively, that no one was supposed to be able to do what he was doing.  I suddenly realized the mist had changed our bodies in other ways than just adding size.

 

“Um . . . Jerry, that’s supposed to be really heavy.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, but – somehow – I just knew it would be easy as hell to lift as soon a I stood over it.  Here, you try.”

 

Jerry tossed the bar into the air.  I didn’t duck, flinch, or even move out of the way.  Like Jerry, I just knew I didn’t need to.  I simply reached up with one hand and stopped the bar in mid-air – catching it and holding it perfectly steady with no problem.  I knew it would have been one of the hottest pictures ever – a pretty big fellow holding a bar with four hundred pounds on it in the air, even with his face – with only one hand.  Clearly, the view thrilled Jerry.

 

“Oh hell yeah,” he exclaimed.  

 

I did a few downward wrist bends  - watching the four hundred pounds bob up and down.  I marveled at how easy it was to manipulate a bar with so much weight. Jerry was so mesmerized he didn’t take a breath.  We were both enthralled with our new abilities.  Without any doubt or hesitation I brought my other hand up to the bar and grabbed it with a underhand grip.  I then moved my other hand out further and grabbed the bar in the same way. With what I knew was a cocky grin and very little effort, I slowly started turning my wrists inward causing the heavy weights on either end to move upward as I easily bent the thing into the shape of a V.  I had simply known I could do it . . . it was that simple.   I kept up the pressure until the weights clanked together loudly. I then reached down with my right hand and started squeezing the two sides of the bar and twisting them together at the same time like I was making a stem for a flower made of weights.  In the end I held the thing in one hand the same way someone might hold a single rose. 

 

“Fucking hell, Spencer,” Jerry shouted and I knew it was the only thing he thought would accurately convey what he was feeling.

 

“I have a feeling this is what our ‘special maneuvers task’ was really all about, Jerry.”

 

“I think you’re right, man. I also think we don’t need to work out,” Jerry said with a big smile.  

 

“I hadn’t thought about that,” I replied and it was true – it hadn’t even crossed my mind.

 

“I mean, why work out when you can do this,” Jerry said, picking up a 45-pound Olympic plate from a holder nearby.

 

He crammed two fingers of each hand into the center two-inch hole of the plate.  Suddenly his chest swelled out enormously and his biceps bulged, making the already too-tight medium shirtsleeves stretch to the point where the green material became almost see-through.  His mammoth arms looked incredible.  I jumped a little when I heard the metal plate screech in distress. His four fingers started pressing out and the hole started to widen. Suddenly two cracks shot up and down from the hole.  Jerry was ripping cast iron in two.  The cracks widened, the plate screamed louder, and finally the two pieces were completely separated and flew a few feet in either direction.  They landed on the ground with two loud clangs.  It had been as easy as tearing a sheet of paper for Jerry and the process had taken less than two minutes.  He threw his bulging arms up in the air like a winning gladiator and let out a deep, loud bellow.

 

“Fuck, that felt so good!” he said, breathing deeply and his chest heaving up ad down.  “And it was so fucking easy!”

 

“I think the general is definitely happy with the initial results of his experiment.”

 

“Hell, probably not as much as we are.  We just bent steel and ripped apart iron like it was nothing.  I don’t think either of us would be called an army dweeb, now. There are a few guys that used to pick on me a lot.  I’d really like to go and visit them now.  You know, just to show them what I can do.  I’d love to see the look on their face as I ripped apart a plate or something even bigger.”

 

“Well, I don’t think even that army-grade metal gate out there could keep the two of us in here.  We could bust through it and make our way back to the base, if you want to.”

 

“Naw man, I’m beginning to think we’ve got it made here,” Jerry said.  “All the food we want, many more weights to destroy, an Xbox, and I’m starting to think there’s a side effect to that power mist that I might enjoy as much as the super strength.”

 

“Yeah?  What might that be?” I asked, already fully aware of what he was talking about.

 

“Well first of all, watching you bend that loaded bar, gave me the kind of major wood that makes me the happiest guy on the planet.”

 

“Is that so?  Well, watching you rip apart an iron plate with four fingers was hot as hell.’

 

“Not as hot as I find your fucking huge chest, Spencer.  I’ve been wanting to gnaw on those big slabs of beef all afternoon,” Jerry said, taking a step towards me.

 

“That’s odd, cause I’ve wanted to plug that huge nice ass of yours and raise you off the ground with just my powerful rod.”

 

“Fuucckk, you say the sweetest things, man,” Jerry responded and had his shirt off in one quick movement – standing right in front of me.

 

I’m sure both of us were oozing pre-cum before our lips even met.  I thought, briefly, about the cameras around the place and the army technicians that were probably watching us.  That passed quickly, however, as soon as we were sucking face like only two sex-starved supermen could do.  Instantly, I knew I needed our bare chests to be touching each other.   I raised my arms, begging by my actions for his help. That’s when the real fun began.  

londonboy

I didn’t remember leaving the bar or saying goodbye to Harry or anyone else.  My last memory of the night was my giant man’s arm wrapped around me offering the kind of security that must only be equaled by a mother’s womb. I was sucking on Bud’s giant chest and marveling at the fact that the hunky bartender and I were equals when it came to submitting ourselves to the massive senior citizen holding us off the floor.  It still amazed me how effortless it was for Bud Stevens to lift two full-grown men – or, for that matter, twenty full-grown men.  It was just an afterthought for him – oh I’m holding two guys as easily as some normal guy might hold two socks.  I also remembered ejaculating so many times in the last twenty-four hours that I was sure I had lost about six pounds.  I was pretty sure the constant tightening of my stomach to push out loads had given me a nice six-pack.  Before I opened my eyes I registered many things around me.  First, I had a raging, Bud Stevens-induced hard on.  Something that I had come to realize would be a perpetual state of being.  It was going to be impossible to stay flaccid around such golden ager magnificence. Secondly, I could feel my cock and legs pressed up against a flesh covered granite wall that didn’t give at all if I pushed forward.  I knew Bud’s own redwood-sized thigh was beside me.  I quickly contemplated rubbing my erection against his hard-as-hell muscled skin to get off, but then I thought I should save my load for my huge gorgeous boyfriend.  The third thing I noticed was that my hand rested on a steel-like hard cylinder object that was clearly as thick as a telephone pole.  I used the word ‘rested’ because my hand was way too small to grip Bud’s giant engorged tool.  The thing pulsed like it was being pumped with enough testosterone to fill an ocean. Lastly, there was the overwhelming orgasmic aroma of something clearly akin to what the Hulk must smell like. There were smells that could turn a guy’s stomach and then there were smells, like this one, that could cause you to leak pre-cum because they were so manly, so full of beast musk, and so fucking intoxicating that you couldn’t control your body’s reaction.  I knew without even looking that my face was in the cavernous expanse of Bud’s beastlike hairy pit.  Before I even raised my eyelids I let my tongue dart out and take a long slow swipe at what I new was a salt and pepper haired space the size of a hangar.

 

“Fuuuckkkkk Yeahhhhhh,” Bud rumbled, and the word seemed to shoot through my body like a massive aircraft was landing beside me.  The intensity of the wonderful he-man pungent fragrance seemed to multiply tenfold. The man radiated a bouquet of power that was instantaneously addictive and overwhelming in a good way.

 

The cock beneath my hand bounced up, forcing my arm off of his stomach.  When Bud’s rod got fully hard not even a bulldozer would be able to keep it in place.  I knew soon the massive thing would be sticking straight up in the air – as sturdy as a deeply sunk girder.  The big arm that was draped down my back pulled me closer to the humongous body beside me.  I was suddenly sealed between two thick sheets of human granite.  My face was plastered harder into his pit, my cock and legs were smashed against his mountain range of a leg, and my upper body was pushed back sharply because his thickly dense lats muscle was shoving against me even unflexed.  If I had been asked, there would have been no way for me to explain how this man made me feel.  Safe and secure didn’t come close.  I knew Bud Stevens could give me anything I wanted.  I knew he could do anything I asked.  I also knew no one or nothing could get close to me unless he allowed it.  I felt like I was part of him – like I was one of his huge muscles or another appendage.  He clearly never wanted to be separated from me for very long. Whenever he could he had to be holding me or, at least, touching me in some way.  There wasn’t a part of any night when his big arms or legs weren’t draped across me.  I wasn’t a plaything or subservient in any way.  We were both master and servant.  He needed me to make his huge body and unimaginable strength make sense.  I needed him to do amazing things that would astound me.  All the other people in the world gawking and appreciating his power didn’t come close to how one compliment from me would make him feel.  He had loved me way before he was huge, but becoming a superman – the kind of guy I had always fantasized about – only made him love me more. He wanted every waking moment to be about pleasing me – which, in turned, pleased him very much.  I wanted every waking moment to be about me loving him. I gurgled as I licked and kissed his pit.  My crotch – barely able to move in his steel-like embrace – thrust against his leg excitedly.  

 

“My big old nip put my boy out like a light last night.  You got your mouth on that big thing, started sucking, and went to sleep like a baby,” Bud explained.  “You slept through me arm wrestling every man in the bar two or three times – even as I held you against my body.  You also missed me lifting Harry’s pick up truck with one hand with everyone in the back. Harry bounced back pretty quickly after his tsunami-sized ejaculation.  I guess the guy’s even more fit than I thought.  He made me bend a few parking meters in front of the bar because the guy who takes care of the meters is a friend of his and he said he’d love to see the shocked look on his face.  And lastly, you missed me shoving the entire building a few feet backwards from the street because Harry said the city ordinance wouldn’t allow outdoor seating unless the thing sat further back.  I got Harry to film all of it and send it to you on your phone.  I didn’t want you to be disappointed about what you missed.  I knew you needed your sleep.  Carrying you around as I did everything was half the fun. God, I missed you, though.  I watched you sleep when we got home and loved how – even out cold – your hands had to play with my biceps and chest. You also talk in your sleep.  You kept saying ‘So big and strong,’ over and over.”

 

“I did not,” I said, my voice muffled by his hairy pit.

 

“Okay, I made that part up, but the rest is true, sweet Connor,” he said, squeezing me even harder. 

 

By this point, his cock was standing straight up like the Eiffel Tower.  I reached down and grabbed what seemed like basketball-sized balls. I squeezed with all my might, knowing he’d barely feel it.  He did, however, purr like a mountain lion from the caress.  I was clamping down on the most sensitive part of a man’s body with all my strength and it felt like love pats to him.  I wiggled my head and he sensed I wanted to speak more clearly, so he moved his arm out a little – allowing me to move my head.

 

“Big man, you know the number one rule is no strength feats are done without me,” I said, trying to sound like I was chastising him.  “You moved a building and I didn’t get to see it!”

 

“Yeah, I do, sweet Connor, but you were in la-la land and I wanted to still show off.  I can do all of those things and more just for you to make it up to you,” the big man said and I could tell he was smiling.  “How ‘bout I lift a building for you?  Or what if I make light poles along the street outside into animals for you?  I could also do one arm curls with two Hummers to get your juices flowing.”

 

He was certainly pleasing me with these promises, but I also knew he was getting himself closer and closer to a regular morning ejaculation as he talked about all the things he could do to show off for me.  We both got off on his strength – equally.  For me, it was the fact that the man was able to do anything.  For him, it was how much I loved what he could do.  I was now stroking his hard giant shaft as best I could with my little hand.  I knew he needed to get off first thing in the morning if he was going to be able to do anything with his day.  He could barely go a few hours without having to relieve himself.  That’s how powerful his body had become.  He clearly had so much testosterone that fifty ejaculations a day barely kept him from being horny all the time.  It was a good thing he didn’t work, since he would have ended up spending more time in a bathroom stall than he would of at his desk.  

 

“Make some plaster fall,” I ordered strongly and, instantly, I felt his cock, not to mention his entire body, shoot harder from my words.  

 

It wasn’t often, but if I told him to do something . . . or if I even asked him to do something he became so turned on I was amazed he didn’t immediately bust out a big wad. Having the love of his life want something . . . order something . . . was wonderful.  Pleasing me was so second nature to him – as easy as his brain sending a message to his arm to do some amazing strength feat.  The humongous elder dude had to hold back always – his strength and size was just too much, but if I gave him an order he knew it usually meant he could go a little wild.  His mega hand took over the pumping of his giant tool.  I shook my head when I saw his finger briefly next to mine – redwoods against toothpicks.  His breathing immediately got harder and every muscle in his body seemed to bulge with even more size and power.  He was now in control of his rod, but he forced his stupendous body to wait for me. He would do nothing without my consent, my order, or my wish.   I was his mission control and the giant rocket was led by me.

 

“My big man pushed an entire building with just one hand,” I said to egg him on more.  We both knew how my words could affect him.  “He pushed the entire foundation back a few feet with just one hand.  That gets me hot and bothered just thinking about it.  My giant muscle gramps standing there with a truck full of grown men high above his head – held by one arm.  I bet you pushed out a few reps, too, just to show off.”

 

“Oh fuck, Connor,” he moaned, “You gotta let me shoot.  You know me so well.”

 

“Not yet, my elder muscleman,” I teased, “You need to be reprimanded for showing off without me getting to watch.  You did strength feat while I snoozed sucking on your big nip.”

 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.  Please let me unload,” he begged.  “I need to blast into the ceiling for you.”

 

“You gotta wait, big man, until I say shoot,” I answered, trying to sound as gruff as I could.  “What did those parking meters ever do to you to deserve being warped so easily? Huh, large lover?  And did all those kegs deserve being flattened and wadded up so easily last night at the bar?  And what about our friend Harry, rubbing his thick cock against all of your impressive hardness as he pulled himself up and down using only your non-moving biceps. That was so hot.”

 

“Oh, Connor man, you gotta be quiet,” he whined.  “Even a superman has a limit to what he can withstand.  I’m going to explode whether you say I can or not.”

 

“No you aren’t, Bud Stevens,” I replied.  “We both know you can withstand anything for your little man.  If I told your cock to deflate right now, I know it would.  If I told you to lift a building with just that rod, you know you could easily do it.  You’ll wait for me like the good muscle daddy you are.”

 

“Oh fuck, how do you know me so well?  And how can you control me so much?” Bud asked loudly.  

 

“Because we are one and the same, my big monstrous lover,” I replied, clearly loving how much strength it was taking for him not to explode.  “Remember, Bud, not through the ceiling.  It would be too difficult to explain the hole to the people upstairs. Just bring down some plaster.”

 

“I can’t promise that,” he said through gritted teeth, and I was beginning to see that the only thing the super strong man couldn’t control or manhandle was his own body.  “Connor, I need some release and I need it now.”

 

“Wait, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, teasing him mercilessly.

 

His big arm clamped me to his side.  We both knew I wasn’t moving any time soon.  I might have had control over his cock, but he had control over my entire body. I looked up at his pleading face, smiling.  I glanced, also, at the unsuspecting ceiling, was about to be pummeled.  I then turned my attention to the rock hard giant missile poking up from his crotch.  His balls had now shrunk to the size of a normal big man – that was a sure sign of how much duress he was under.  I suddenly had pity on the big man and realized I wanted to see and hear the sonic boom.

 

“Shoot,” I said, loudly.

 

“Fuuuuuuckkkkkk!” he yelled.

 

Knowing the man could have easily shot his wad through the six floors above us made the restrained rapid-fire of his ejaculation that much more satisfying.  Cum shot up, smacked against the twelve-foot high ceiling of his place and immediately sent chunks of the plaster cascading around us.  At least fourteen rounds of stone sized pellets of cum blasted the ceiling and then another seven loads went half way up before descending and splattering all over us.  We were now covered in his musky man juice and pieces of the ceiling. I had a feeling I’d be scrubbing for hours to get clean.  Finally his cock plopped against his hard abs, totally spent.  The big man was breathless, but he still pulled me up onto his body with that one big arm around me and then latched his mouth onto mine to kiss me with enough power to make my own cock spew uncontrollably.  He didn’t stop kissing until my body stopped bucking against his.  We lay there, covered in spunk and plaster.  I moved my hand to his veiny giant biceps and he flexed it to please me. It’s where my hand always instinctively traveled . . . or to his mammoth chest . . . or to his gigantic thighs.  O hell, my hands traveled happily to any part of his huge body.  

 

“I love you, Connor,” he said, softly, letting his bushy gray mustache tickle my face.

 

“I love you, Bud,” I replied.  “You make the sun rise for me.  Figuratively . . . for now.”

 

“What can I give you today that will make you happy?” Bud asked.

 

“You just did,” I answered and we both knew it was true.

 

“Yes . . . I’m glad about that,” he said, “But what can I do to remind you how much I love you.  Name it and it’s done.”

 

I folded my arms across his massive chest and rested my chin on them. We smelled like a bathhouse and it was glorious.  The sound of his cum carving out chunks in the ceiling still seemed to be reverberating in the room.  I gazed into his eyes.  I saw the kind of love that must have inspired millions of poems over the ages. I saw a mature muscle daddy that only wanted to please me.  I lay on a body that was so huge and powerful it could do anything I wished.  That seemed to be his sole purpose on earth.  He needed me to answer him.  He wanted me to give my elder Hercules some kind of labor to prove his loyalty and love.  He simply knew that making me happy would fulfill him completely.  I knew how to make him happy.

 

“I’d like to go to a junkyard and watch you play, Bud Stevens,” I said and his face broke into a gorgeous smile that made me scoot up and kiss him.  I finally pulled back and said something that was icing on the cake, “Watching you being able to finally let go – completely – and use all of the power within you would make me so very happy.  And I’ll invite some friends.”

 

The big man’s cock shot fully hard again.  It was so powerful that it actually caused my lower body to rise slightly in the air. So many parts of what I had said pleased him.  He loved the idea of going some place where he didn’t have to hold back.  He had desperately wanted his ejaculation to put in holes for skylights for seven floors of apartments in our building.  But, as usual, he had to tame it down and not use his full power.  He couldn’t show off completely.  He rarely got to show off completely, because there were things that shouldn’t be broken or people that shouldn’t be hurt.  The entire night at the bar had been him showing a little power here or a little power there, but because we were in a public place he couldn’t go full on with his strength.  The thought of a junkyard, where everything was fair game was almost too much for the man. I was kind of surprised we’d never gone before.  Secondly, the idea of meeting some of my friends and showing off for them made the huge guy extremely excited.  He hadn’t met any of my friends, yet, and this felt like a big step in our already cemented relationship.   He instinctively knew he could impress anyone, but getting to show off for people that called me friend made him feel like a kid in a candy store.  He would be on especially good behavior and do feats of strength that would blow their minds.  Lastly, there was the ‘always important’ fact that he would be making me happy.  Since it had been my idea to go, that made it even more special.  Showing off for me in front of my friends would get both of us off that much more intensely.  My body felt like it was levitating since his monstrous cock lifted it so easily.

 

“What if your friends don’t like me?” Bud asked.

 

“Why wouldn’t they like you? You can lift a fire truck!” I shot back.

 

“But what if they think I’m too old for you?” he egged me on even more.

 

“All those young guys in the bar last night didn’t seem to mind their cocks getting hard all because of a massive elder muscle daddy, did they?” I asked.

 

“No, they didn’t,” he chuckled.

 

I inched forward a little so his hard cock sprang up between my legs – resting against my ass crack and shooting up even higher than my bubble butt.  I squeezed hard with my thighs and this made him moan a little.  It felt like I had a fire hydrant between my legs.

 

“I’m already thinking of a bunch of things you can do at the junkyard to make me happily ejaculate,” I said, kissing him again.

 

“Just name it, Connor. Making you happy is my middle name,” Bud replied.  

londonboy

Dad's Best Friend Stu

BillSeno2.jpg

“Who is this, dad?” I asked, handing him a picture from a box as we sorted things in the attic in preparation for his and my mom’s upcoming downsizing move.

“Oh my god, Stuart Rock! He was my best friend freshmen year.

I refrained from saying that the last name suited him.  My dad’s acceptance of me being gay came with a few caveats – not talking about men I found attractive being one of them.  Besides, I had never confessed to him my particular fetish for big muscles – something that was reserved only for online oogling and in-person groping at muscleman shows at Big Dick’s bar in the city where I now lived.  I toned down the excitement in my voice, but was unable, however, to tone down the excitement in my pants.  I was luckily kneeling behind an open chest.  

“It seems he liked the gym,” I said, trying desperately to keep my voice level, tending to squeal when I encountered muscle was an uncontrollable habit.

“Yes he did.  He had gotten into powerlifting in high school and came to our university on a scholarship for that sport.  He won a lot of championships that year,” my dad explained taking another look at the picture and then handing it back to me. “Throw it in the discard pile.”

“Are you sure?” I asked – allowing a little of my excitement about the possibility of sneaking it into my ‘take home’ pile to escape.

“Yeah.  He left after freshmen year and I never heard from him again,” my dad replied, grabbing another pile of pictures to sort through. 

“Why did he leave?” I asked.

“I really don’t know. We were assigned as roommates that first year and got really close.  He was so easy to be friends with – outgoing, funny as hell, and a gentle giant.  He used to complain about everyone being afraid of him since he was so big and strong – and he was amazed at how it never bothered me.  I guess I didn’t really think of him that way.  He was just Stu, my roommate.  A guy who could outdrink anyone on campus,” my dad explained further and seemed a little distracted by some Christmas pictures from when all of us five kids had been little – probably trying to figure out the year.  He then looked up and unexpectedly added, “On our last night together we were both a little drunk . . . okay, a lot drunk . . . and before we went to bed he hugged me tight and told me he wouldn’t be returning the next year. He said he had to go somewhere that he could be his true self and that wasn’t our university.  As a matter of fact – if I’m recalling it correctly – he moved to where you are.”

Just then, my mom called from the bottom of the stairs telling Dad she needed his help with something. My dad rolled his eyes and moved toward the stairs.  Once he was gone I stared at the picture.  My ‘gaydar’ was on high alert – and not just from what my dad had said. The picture, itself, had stirred something familiar in me.  I turned it over and was surprised it said, “To Don (my dad), with much respect and love. SR.”  I ran my fingers over the words and swore I could feel the raw emotions that were raging through the big man as he wrote them.  I looked at the picture again.  Stu was magnificent – a big barrel chest with pecs ripe for sucking, arms that could hold a guy up in the air as he walked around the room, traps that screamed for hands to try and squeeze them, and hands that were made for holding.  Stu would have been somewhere in his late fifties, early sixties now.  I decided right then and there I would do a little sleuthing when I returned home.  The picture was placed between my grammar school report cards and the stack of letters from my grandmother from her visits to Florida for its escape from my parents’ attic.

Two weeks later, I stood in front of a condominium only five blocks from where I lived.  An internet search, something my dad had clearly never thought of doing, revealed that Stuart Rock owned three gyms throughout the city and a few other establishments that were not named.  I was kind of bummed that my search did not produce any recent pictures of the man.  I had come to this point only on a hunch and part of me contemplated turning around, leaving, and never coming back.  I forced myself to ring the doorbell before logic won out.  Going with gut feelings was one of my fortes.  I had already decided I would get confirmation about my theory in the first few seconds of meeting Stu.  All of my life I had been told I was a bigger, more handsome exact version of my dad when he was younger.  I figured my face would say all I need to an introduction.  The door opened and my knees instantly wobbled. Graying hair, a few wrinkles, and wire framed glasses were the only things different from the picture I held in my hand.  Stuart Rock was shirtless and in shorts – and he was even slightly bigger and with even more pronounced bulges than when he was in college.  When he saw my face he whispered the word ‘Don’ and his expression confirmed everything I had suspected.  He instantly smiled.

“You must be Russ,” he said.

“How did you know?” I asked – amazed that he knew which of dad’s four boys I was.

“You’re the only one who lives here,” he replied.

I held up the picture and as he took it he said, “Oh my god.  Look how young I was.”  He immediately turned over the picture, got a little misty eyed, and ran his fingers over the writing from all those years ago just like I had in the attic.  When he looked up at me, two things were perfectly clear.  Stuart Rock had loved my dad – he probably still did – and he fully understood why I was here.  

“Come in, Russ,” he said, moving his big frame back from the door so I could enter.  “Let me grab a shirt, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I boldly said, looking him in the eye and confirming everything he was thinking. “It’s actually nice seeing that the real thing is even better than what I’ve been fantasizing since I found the picture.

It’s a pretty amazing thing when you see a big man not able to control himself.  It’s wild seeing someone so huge and obviously powerful lose the fight for what is supposed common good manners.  My comment and my sudden appearance had clearly unleashed something so primal and repressed in Stu that he simply could not think straight. The larger than life object of my lust stepped closer to me, wrapped a big hand around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss that had waited for over thirty years.  I was no gay fool.  I kissed back as if my life depended on it.  I knew I wasn’t my dad and I’m pretty sure Stu didn’t think I was, either, but I was actually something much better.  I was a gay man that loved big muscular guys and I was related to Stu’s first love.  Later, he would tell me that first kiss expelled all desire for my dad inside Stu. He still loved my dad, but having someone ‘like’ him was far better.  Within thirty minutes I was exploring those powerful arms, sucking on those monstrous pecs, squeezing his hard traps, and feeling those big gigantic hands lift me in the air.  I was also living out the definition of ‘lovemaking.’ 

 

londonboy

Coach Duffy

a5660ef117e832542b21033dd31e66ee--men-in-jeans-mature-men.jpg

I was at my local gay watering hole called ‘Spew’ enjoying a few beers and chatting with other regulars when a big meaty hand drops and covers my entire shoulder from behind.  A voice – at once familiar and out of place – called my name.

 

“Little James Parker – how the hell have you been?

 

I turned around and was immediately blessed with a view that would excite any card carrying gay man, but I also felt a memory of fear that started in my toes and quickly shot to the top of my head.  Before me stood one of my biggest challenges in high school – Coach Duffy.  Martin Duffy to be exact.  He was still the drop dead gorgeous fur covered he man he was when I was in high school eight years ago – radiating a manliness that seemed to shoot out of every magnificent hair on his body.  He did appear larger than he was all those year ago and that made me momentarily forget how evil he was back then.  His smile was still white straight-teethed brilliance and his scruffiness made him look like he was going to throw you over his shoulder and take you to his cabin in the woods for weeks, just so he could have his way with you. I pushed all of my immediate lust aside and mustered up the most bitchy diva attitude that I could.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Coach Duffster.  Who let you in?”

 

The big man’s smile actually disappeared for a few seconds and I could tell the use of his old nickname – as well as my obvious contempt – shook him a little.  He quickly regained control of himself, however, and smiled even brighter.  His blue-green eyes even sparkled more.  

 

“I guess I deserve that, James.  I just wanted to say hi, that’s all.”

 

His ‘tail between his legs’ attitude took me off guard.  I had expected some cocky statement or, worse, a punch to my gut.  For a split second we stared at each other.  I could tell the guys around us didn’t know how to react.  There was a feeling of awkwardness and no one was trying to change it.

 

“No, really, Coach. What ARE you doing here?”

 

“Hanging out with friends and getting a drink.”

 

“But why here?”

 

“Um . . . because I’m gay.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, big boy! You lie.”

 

My reaction made his smile grow and suddenly the shirtless muscled wonder relaxed.  My shock seemed to please him.  I was truly astounded by this revelation, thinking I had sized up all five hundred and thirty two students and staff at my high school and knew all the ‘friends of Dorothy.’  I even knew about the fullback a year behind me that liked to get pounded by smaller men – screaming like a little girl (no offense to the ladies intended).  Nothing could have been more shocking to hear than this specific news.  Duffy could see my disbelief and decided to clear it up instantly.  He leaned in close as he spoke.

 

“No lie.  I like to suck cock.”

 

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed and punched his right pec at the same time.  

 

I immediately noticed that his mound of beef, hanging so gloriously over his hard abs didn’t give at all.  It was a lot harder than my fist.  As if he instantly knew what I was thinking, Coach Duffy bounced his monstrous chest a few times.  I had always mesmerized by a guy that could control that part of his body in that way. He clearly liked thrilling me – and let the bouncing continue for a few more repetitions.  

 

“Since when?” I suddenly asked.

 

“Since forever. Before you were even born.  I knew I was gay when I was eleven.”

 

“No fucking way. Coach Martin fucking Duffy is a poofter!”

 

“Card carrying.”

 

“Then why the hell were you so hard on me during gym class for three years, you Neanderthal?”

 

“I had a feeling when I came to talk to you our conversation would final land on this topic,” he said, looking down, as if he were ashamed, and taking a quick swig of his beer.

 

“Well of course it was, muscle daddy, you were relentless!”

 

I noticed his moustache twitched, along with his chest, arms, and crotch when I called him muscle daddy.  That information was instantly stored for retrieval later on.  Right now, I was only interested in hearing what he had to say about being Atilla the Duffster in gym.

 

“Um, there were a couple of reasons,” he stammered.

 

“Well, just start with one, lumberjack!”  

 

I was using different titles for him to see which ones turned him on.  Clearly, he was an outdoors kind of guy because this one caused some twitching, too.  I was already warming up to my old teacher, but I didn’t want to let him know that. I wanted answers for all the nightmares he had caused.

 

“First of all, I wanted to toughen you up.  When you came to the high school you were out, but you weren’t confident about it. You had a couple of close girlfriends, but you didn’t stand up for yourself.  You were also hardheaded and would listen to anyone that tried to help you. Remember the first week of school I tried to give you some advice and you just stood there – not looking me in the eye and body language that told me to mind my own business.  I decided to take a different route for my help.  I started giving you grief.  I paired you up with some of the guys who taunted you the most when we did partner activities.  I called on you first to do new activities.  I even gave you huge partners to wrestle during that part of freshmen year.  And it worked.  By the end of that first year, you stood your ground with any student or teacher that challenged you or bullied you.  You actually became a role model for other students – gay or straight.  Senior year you got voted class president and were awarded the most likely to succeed superlative.  I’m not saying I caused all of that to happen, I’m just saying I helped. I’m not sure the guy that came walking up that first day of freshman year could have advanced so quickly without a little toughness from me.  I always had your back, though.  Anyone that ever bullied you got a personal visit from Coach Duffy – making sure they didn’t do it again and that they never spoke about the visit.”

 

A flood of awareness washed over me.  Immediately, I realized that everything he said was true.  Gym class had toughened me up – prepared me for many battles that awaited me.  Hindsight helped me to see that, now.  So much unnecessary anger flew out of me at that exact moment.  My shoulders relaxed . . . completely . . . probably for the first time in many years.  I also had always thought my staff member in shining armor – a rumored intimidator of bullies – had been Principal Jenkins.  I looked at the gorgeous Coach in front of me with new eyes.  He could sense all that was happening within me. He didn’t say another word.  He just waited for me to process things.

 

“You said there were two reasons you were hard on me.  What was the second one?”

 

The big man’s face turned red.  His arms tensed hard and his chest heaved up and down.  I actually knew what he was going to say before he said it.  I had sensed it all night . . . and I suddenly realized I felt the same way.

 

“I . . . um . . . needed to hide some inappropriate feelings,” he said softly – and I actually heard some people around us emit dreamlike ‘ahhhhs.’  

 

“I’m twenty-six now, Coach.”

 

“Yes you are,” he replied, stepping closer to me.  

londonboy

Uncle Jed

a1ff2d2f7f5ff6e9d7b615c0fa9da72c.jpg.5914795cbd833e5d345e90212689b5e3.jpg

Uncle Jed had hugged me a little longer than I expected when he arrived at our house for the Christmas holidays.  I had returned to my parents home, as well, knowing full well my mom’s bull of a brother would be sharing a room with me for the week.  I hadn’t really thought about it much – that is, until the hug.  He had clasped his humongous arms – looking monstrous even through the flannel shirt he had on – around my body, squeezed tightly, and lifted me slightly off the floor.  At the same time he whispered, “How’s my favorite little man.” This had been an affectionate nickname he had given to me when I was a kid, but now when he said it, I got a flurry of goosebumps and tongue tied-ness that I couldn’t explain.  I also didn’t know why I was so disappointed when my feet were returned to the floor.  Uncle Jed lived in Los Angeles, while I was in New York.  We rarely saw each other, but I’d get random messages all the time from him telling me he was in my great city, but there would be no time for him to see me – his schedule was just too jam packed.  At age fifty-six, my uncle was still working as a highly contract bouncer, bodyguard, and other jobs that needed an intimidating force.  This was the man that had always brought me chocolates, told me fantastical bedtime stories, and threw me around in the pool every summer – there was no way I could find him intimidating, but this particular trip brought different emotions.  He confidently straddled the chair beside me when we sat down for dinner, literally giving my cousin Mark a frightening stare because he had moved in that direction, too.  Jed put his hand on top of mine and said, again, how great it was to see me.  I instantly noticed how his hand engulfed mine completely.  You could see nothing of my small demure thing under his giant manly paw.  Again, he squeezed my hand for far too long and way too hard.  My face scrunched up in pain, but my crotch did a happy dance.  What was wrong with me?  This was my uncle – who lost his wife of twenty-two years when I had turned eighteen.  I still found it odd I never met Aunt Eleanor.  I found it even more odd that we were never informed about a funeral. Suddenly, a big muscled thigh pressed firmly against mine and I turned to find Uncle Jed conversing with my cousin on his other side.  His leg continued to push – causing my chair and me to slide a little.  

 

Finally, the big man turned to me and smiled.  He leaned in closer and said softly, “You know I’m not your real uncle, don’t you?”

 

And just like that, he turned back to my cousin on the other side and started up a new conversation. I was so caught off guard – so confused – I woofed down my food, excused myself, and went to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm what was raging beneath my belt.  Later, it was just my mom and I putting away some dishes in the dining room cabinet.  I asked her about what Jed had said and she told me that it was true.  Jed’s parents had both died when he was in college.  My grandparents had kind of unofficially adopted him since he was an only child.  When I asked her why I had never been told this important information she simply said family’s start to believe things as real the more the years piled up. I asked if there was anything else I should know about Uncle Jed and she immediately got an apologetic look on her face. 

 

“As a matter of fact there is.  Now, don’t be mad, honey.  Uncle Jed didn’t have a wife.  That’s just something we told you kids because Jed didn’t want all of you being confused.  He had a partner named Lenny – who we just kind of changed into Eleanor to make it easier for us to talk about her . . . I mean him.  I know, I know – we should have told you all, but it just didn’t seem to matter.  Your father and I did go to Lenny’s funeral, by the way.  We never told you that.  Oh the secrets family keep.  It’s a shame, don’t you think?”

 

My mom’s question was lost on me.  It would be a few more weeks before I would look back at that moment and realize she was offering me a ‘get out of jail free’ card.  She was hoping I’d come out with my big secret.  I was still working it out for myself, so I certainly wasn’t ready for all of her progressive ‘mother of the year’ enthusiastic support. I didn’t hear her because my mind was reeling from the fact that Uncle Jed – the guy built like a bulldozer – was gay. It was almost too much for a twenty-four closeted muscle daddy loving young man to handle.  I avoided the daddy ‘elephant in the room’ for the rest of the evening – throughout the singing of carols and the opening of Christmas gifts. I slid off to the two room mini apartment my parents had made above the garage – hoping to be in bed and asleep before monstrous Jed came in.  I had not, however, anticipated that he would already be there – standing in the folding doorway between our rooms in only his underwear.

 

I gasped audibly when I saw his unclothed body.  Nothing could have prepared me for the magnificence that was the man.  Bloated veiny clearly hard arms bulged at his side. Pecs the size of mattresses popped out in mammoth 3-D.  Gloriously strong looking giant hands hung by his side – further out than regular men because of Jed’s muscled lats.  His shoulders filled the doublewide doorway, so that just made me light headed and then his gorgeous beefy thighs just screamed to have my little body pinned between them. We stood there in silence for a few minutes – my heavy quick breathing the only noise in the room.  It was like he was giving me time to take everything in. A year wouldn’t have been long enough for me to explore every muscle on the huge man.  Finally, he broke the silence.

 

“I was in New York last month – just for a quick overnight trip – and I saw you at Papa’s Bar.  You didn’t see me.  I was on my way in and I caught sight of you with some friends through the window.  I figured it wouldn’t be a good place to finally come clean about so many lies your family and I had told you.  I . . . also . . . um, wow this is really hard to say.  I also . . . realized how much I wanted you – you’ve grown into such a handsome young man.  I hadn’t even gotten a gay vibe from you – ever.  I was just so excited to see you so comfortable in that bar – flirting with older men.  I watched you for about an hour.”

 

“Then you must know what I like,” I said, surprisingly with confidence that thrilled both of us.

 

Jed walked closer to me. God, I had forgotten how much I loved big men in briefs.  His tidy whitey’s looked spectacular hugging his muscled body.  Massive pecs were inches from my chin.  I could smell the aroma of perspiration that comes from being nervous – from being hopeful.  That’s when I realized that Jed was as caught off guard by all of this as I was.  It was just that his size and his obvious power helped him to hide his apprehension a lot more than I could.  He reached up, cupped the back of my head, and pulled it slowly – excruciatingly slow – toward his mammoth chest.  My lips were read, as was my tongue.  As soon as my lips smacked up against his hard pec muscle the man exhaled deeply, letting an animalistic growl escape.  I didn’t wait for any other words or sounds to give me permission to do the millions of things that were racing through my head. I simply let the muscle daddy-loving beast within me take over.  I had never wanted to satisfy another human being as much as I did Jed.  My mouth moved quickly to his hard nipple and when I scraped it between my teeth his back arched and the grip around my head tightened.  At the same time my hand shot out to the enormous mound of muscle bulging between his shoulder and forearm.  My hand met something so hard I could have easily believed it was stone.  My fingers foolishly tried to grab the peak of his gun as he raised it high to flex, but my hand was just too small.  The behemoth formerly known as Uncle Jed shoved his crotch against mine and even through my blue jeans I could feel his manly tool hardening with every thrust.  The hand on the back of my hand made it’s way down my back, groping and caressing me hard as it traveled.  When it slid behind the waistband it paused briefly, as if the big man needed to prepare for the prize it was about to behold.  Jed’s cock convulsed wildly in anticipation.  Finally, his veiny muscled gigantic hand clamped around my bulbous ass and the muscle daddy lost control.

 

A jet crashing into our garage could not have made more noise than Jed’s orgasmic howl as he unleashed what had clearly been building for a long time.  My own cock showed its submissiveness and immediately released a heavy stream of cum in response to dominant alpha dick pounding it as the man shot his load.  Huge arms immediately tightened around me so strongly that I was worried my back would be broken.  For the second time that night, Jed lifted my body off the floor and we shook simultaneously as if there were a major earthquake.  It seemed like it took him hours longer to finally stop spewing.  I already felt gobs of his warm sticky milk seeping through my jeans.  It felt like his body had produced gallons, while mine was stupendous with a few quarts. Even when our breathing began to become normal, the big man did not release his bear hug.  He continued to hold m in the air – our crotches slowly becoming stuck together and my upper body smashed against his gloriously humongous chest.  This time, I broke the silence.

 

“I think my family now knows we’ve consummated our relationship.  I actually think the entire town knows.”

 

When he chuckled at my comment my small body bounced in his grasp.  His laughing echoed within his cavernous chest as if it were miles wide. He brought his lips to the top of my head and kissed me.

 

“I could hold you forever,” he said, softly.

 

“I don’t think there’s anything or anyone that could stop you,” I replied.

 

This comment made his chest swell even more and his hug tightened teasingly.  I was able to lift my head slightly so I could see his face. He smiled down at me and we knew there was no need for words.  This was the beginning of something very important.  The future was already mapped out for us.  He simply confirmed that by making one comment.

 

“I move to New York in the new year.”    

londonboy

Thorpe

8854a2956a606a7c764d008e8e7764b2.gif.8f2c982eef3e462ae225cdbfd4f5b443.gif

He could sense I wanted to be kissed.  He could also sense that I wanted it to be a little rough.  Not in the ‘hurt me’ kind of way, but more like a ‘please be a man kind of way.’  He knew it was my first time to be with a guy.  I had been in the closet for far too long and I wanted my coming out party to be memorable.  I wanted it to be with him.  He was the bartender at a hip bar called Roscoe’s in the heart of town.  Every woman or man that walked into that bar wanted this guy.  I knew that mainly from the fact that everyone I knew talked about him.  At dinner parties, the theatre, and even at fucking yoga everyone talked about Thorpe, the bartender at Roscoe’s.  Hell, even his name sounded hot and manly – like some kind of superhero.  I had crushed on Thorpe for years.  Roscoe’s was in my neighborhood and me and my friends met there weekly.  It was Christmas day night and I had wanted to escape food coma time at my parents’ house, so I had taken the train back into the city arriving too early to head home right away.  It was Christmas for goodness sake.  I had been a little shocked when I walked into Roscoe’s and the place was practically empty.  There were a few couples scattered around the big room and about ten people peppered at different points along the bar that ran the entire length of the place.  And there was Thorpe . . . in all his tank topped, bearded, and muscled gorgeousness washing glasses behind the bar. He looked up as I entered and his smile was like the best Christmas present I could have ever received.  I knew it was all in my imagination, but he looked genuinely glad to see me.  I also thought I imagined him tilting his head toward an empty stool at the end of the bar – or maybe that was just the place I decided to plant myself.  The beefiness finished washing the glass in his hand and then he sauntered . . . yes, sauntered . . . down to where I was sitting. 

 

“What’s up handsome,” he said, winking.  

 

It took me a few seconds to realize he was talking to me.  I still looked behind me to make sure there was no one there.  This made him laugh.  God, he had perfect teeth – to go along with his perfect biceps.  My cock suddenly felt like it could poke through metal.  Someone called out his name and he turned to see one of the regulars waving his glass. 

 

“Hold on, man, I’ll be right back,” he said softly, but with enough confidence to make my insides vibrate.

 

As I stared at his magnificent bubbled ass walk away he suddenly stopped and turned around – catching me staring at him.  I went beet red and this made him laugh again.  When he started walking again I swear he squeezed his cheeks to make his butt poke out even more and to let me see the huge dimples on either side.  I looked down at my crotch, willing my hard penis to calm down.  I was even mumbling to it when a giant glass of Stella Artois, my favorite beer, was placed in front of me.  I looked up and was greeted by the smiling face of Thorpe.  I must have been working on my problem at the crotch a lot longer than I thought, since he had already returned.  He had a glass in his hand, which he lifted, requesting a toast.  I knew it was his favorite – Bush Mills whiskey, black label.  I raised my glass and tapped his.  He could see I had a baffled look on my face.  He knew I was wondering where the beer came from.

 

“A gift from someone?” he said, nodding to my glass.

 

“Who?” I said, immediately embarrassed because my voice cracked because I was talking to the man of my dreams.  To cover up my embarrassment I leaned over to find the someone who had been my benefactor. 

 

“Let’s just say he’s wearing a tank top, has some cool tattoos, and is really happy to see you,” Thorpe replied.  

 

I stupidly continued looking for a few seconds and then the light bulb went off in my head.  I slowly straightened myself on the stool and my heart was racing a thousand miles a minute.  I first looked at the furry muscled chest – just to make sure I was speaking to Thorpe, the beautiful bartender at Roscoe’s, for that’s the part of him I looked at most – and then I looked up into his sparkling eyes and devilish grin.

 

“I . . . um . . . didn’t even know . . . you . . . um . . . knew my name,” I somehow stammered out.

 

“I think you’d be amazed by all the things I know about you, Madden,” he said and I actually jumped a little in shock when he said my name, which, again, made him chuckle.  “I know you just passed the bar and will be starting a new job at a law firm a few blocks from here.  I know your parents helped you buy a great brownstone nearby that you’re fixing up on your own.  I know your two best friends are Hannah and Pete and I also know you never come here without them making it impossible for anyone to ever speak to you . . . especially me.”

 

“I . . . uh . . . what . . . you wanted to speak to me?” I said, when my mouth would finally work and he nodded.

 

“I also know that it’s not a coincidence you came in alone tonight.  I believe it’s a Christmas miracle, Madden,” he said, leaning in and resting his chin in his hands so his biceps would flex in front of me.  

 

I swear I could not decide where I wanted to look – down the front of his fur-filled, pec-cavernous shirt, at his bulging arms, or into those dreamy dark eyes that seemed to be looking straight into my soul.

 

“You’re on the cusp of something big, Madden,” he continued.  “You want to be released from some chains that have held you down for a long time.  And I think I’m the Hercules to free you from your captivity.  You and I have a lot in common, Madden.  And I’d really like you to be my Christmas gift this year.  It would be the best gift I’ll ever receive. I’m also off duty in five minutes.”

 

My mouth dropped open wide at some point while he was talking.  I also went through a second puberty – I’m sure of it.  I suddenly didn’t care what anyone thought about my actions.  I stared down his shirt, marveling at the manly hair that blossomed on that beautiful chest.  I gaped at his arms, which he tensed harder for me.  I then took my beer in my hand and downed it in less time it would take the big man to blink.  I could tell he was impressed.  He did the same thing with his whiskey.  

 

“Hey Simon, I’m gone already,” Thorpe hollered out to the other bartender.  “Dock me for the time, I don’t care.  I’m about to get something a lot better than money.”

 

Simon let out a big cheer and rang the bell that was usually reserved for giant tips.  Thorpe grabbed the edge of the bar and vaulted over it. I could not believe the man leapt across the wide polished wooden top so easily and landed near me.  I was off my stool in a flash.  The next action happened so quickly there was no way for me to prepare for it.  Thorpe bent forward a little, pushed his shoulder into my stomach, wrapped a big hand around my waist, and then stood up, taking my body up with him.  

 

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Thorpe yelled, as he turned toward the door and the place erupted in answers – most of which I missed because we were out the front door in no time.

 

Thorpe had clearly not been joking about knowing a lot about me.  He walked – with me still draped over his shoulder – in the direction of my house.  We stopped at the mart at the end of my street and I simply raised my hands in a ‘what can I do’ pose when Mr. Johnson, the owner, watched Thorpe carry me down the aisle to buy some Stella.

 

“I have Bush Mills,” I said when he stopped by the liquor section.

 

“And why would you have that?” Thorpe asked – and I found it strange that I couldn’t look at him as we talked - all I could see was his wide back and gorgeous ass.

 

“I knew you liked it, so I wanted to try it,” I replied.

 

“And did you like it, Madden?” he asked, ignoring the other customers that were staring at us.

 

“Well, it was really strong,” I answered.

 

“Like me,” he added and then he paid the still astounded Mr. Johnson.  “Tell him you’re okay, Madden, and that I’m not kidnapping you.”

 

Thorpe turned his body so I could look up at Mr. Johnson.  I smiled and gave him the thumbs up.

 

“I’m fine, Mr. Johnson. This is Thorpe.  He’s a friend of mine.  I’m also thinking he’s about to teach me the joys of man-on-man sex,” I said, not filtering any thought.

 

“Good for you, Madden,” Mr. Johnson replied and laughed when he saw the surprise on my face.

 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Johnson,” Thorpe said loudly as we exited, “I’ll treat him the way he likes to be treated.”

 

We were at my front door a minute later and I was still shocked the guy knew exactly where I lived. He turned around as I worked hard to retrieve my keys in my front pocket, which was plastered against his shoulder.  He then squatted a little so I could reach the keyhole.  Soon we were standing in the foyer of my big four-story brownstone and he was whistling in admiration as he traveled from room to room looking at the place, me still draped across his shoulder.  He finally settled on the cozy front room I nicknamed ‘the parlor.’  He set me down on the ground, opened two beers and then turned to me.  By this point I had plastered myself against the side of the doorframe.  He looked at me with a sudden seriousness.

 

“Is this what you want,” he asked – and his asking made me want him more than ever.

 

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in the world,” I said with sudden confidence.  “But I ask one thing.”

 

“What’s that, Madden,” he said stepping closer to me.

 

“Make it manly and cocky,” I answered – and his face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

londonboy

(Forgive me, I decided to give myself a Christmas present and continue with one of my favorite characters.  Merry Christmas, everyone).

 

“Excuse me sir,” Harry said, making us turn to him.  “I’ve got some empty kegs in the back that might help you give another fun show for the fellas and me.”

 

“Hot damn, Harry! Empty kegs sounds like a lot of fun. I’d love to crush some of those for you.” Bud said with childlike enthusiasm.  “Connor, I believe we have a perfect example of a guy with a big strength fetish – don’t we, Harry?”

 

“Yes sir,” the bartender responded.

 

“Well I’m just the man to make those fantasies come true, Harry,” Bud said.

 

“You already have,” Harry answered.

 

“Did you ever dream of being super strong, Harry?” Bud asked.

 

“All the time, sir. All the time,” Harry answered and you could tell it was the most honest answer he’d ever given.  

 

“Well, let’s make that fantasy come partially true, Harry.  Where are those empty kegs?” Bud asked.

 

“Right back here,” Harry said, pointing to a room off to the left of the bar.  

 

Bud went to the room and came back a few seconds later carrying ten drained kegs – five held by each hand.  He carried them easily with fingers in the handles and set them on the bar.  Of course, the group of onlookers had already gathered to see what Bud would do next.  In an attempt to build the momentum of the show, Bud quickly juggled three kegs for about a minute.  When he finished he took one of the kegs and turned toward the bartender.

 

“When you do feats of strength, Harry – whether it’s squeezing a man’s hand or demolishing something, you always start out by making it seem like you won’t be able to do whatever you’re attempting,” Bud explained.  “You want to surprise the object or the man you’re working with. Let the guy think he’s going to grip you harder and then slowly squeeze until his eyes pop out because he realizes you’re just starting to exert pressure, while he’s been using his full force for a while.  In the same way, we’re going to let the keg think it can withstand your power – and, in turn, the intended audience is slightly disappointed.  It’s not until the screeching sound of metal booms loudly that everyone figures out you’ve been leading them on.  Come stand in front of me, man.  We’re going to take on this keg together, so you know what it feels like to be super strong.”  

 

Harry didn’t hesitate for a second.  He moved in front of the big man, snuggling between the mammoth arms.  At first Harry couldn’t force himself to turn around. He stood there with his nose pointed perfectly between the huge thick bottoms of Bud’s pecs.  The younger stud merely stared at the hard muscle – totally in awe.  Bud finally turned him around by placing a big hand on his head and twisting.  He then nestled his hard body against Harry’s back – to give the kid an extra thrill.  The smaller bartender let out a gasp when he felt the elder man’s huge hard-than-concrete boner pressing against his ass and back.  

 

“Guess I should have warned you about that hard muscle down there, huh, Harry?” Bud said, laughing. “It’s as big as the rest of me. And just as strong.  Now get snug up against this big man, son.  We’re going to have some fun with this keg. Put your hands on top of mine, we’re going to let you be the driver of this power machine.”

 

It took a few seconds for the bartender to regain his composure after feeling Bud’s hardened mega-shaft.  Harry was beginning to realize that Bud Stevens had as many surprises as he did muscles.  It was also obvious to me that the younger guy was smitten with my boyfriend – in the same way a puppy loves his owner.  Harry easily gave up control of his tightly muscled body to the much larger super-gramps.  I understood the way he felt and pitied him, a little, since I knew Bud was dedicated solely to me.  However, I also knew the big man would make Harry’s night – not to mention Harry’s life – by pleasing him big time.  As soon as the bartender rested his hands on top of Bud’s huge paws he nestled his ass even more secure against Bud’s balls and huge rod – taking advantage of the situation as much as he could.  

 

“So, little Harry,” Bud said, loving calling the muscular man ‘little.’  “You’re going to control the action.  When I feel you pressing in I’ll add a little strength to the situation and you’ll get to feel what it’s like to have super strength.  This keg doesn’t even begin to know the damage you’re going to inflict on it.”

 

Harry didn’t need any other encouragement.  Immediately his face twisted up from effort and he started pressing against the back of Bud’s hands, which were resting on the ends of the empty keg.  Bud was able to see their reflection in the mirror above the bar.  His own hands didn’t budge at all – clearly able to withstand the pressure from the bartender’s grip without any problem.

 

“No, no, no, man – another rule for guys with super strength.  We don’t scrunch our face up when we do something,” Bud explained. “We keep our face relaxed – as if to say what we’re doing doesn’t take any effort, at all.  This way, we shock onlookers even more.  A calm muscleman doing feats of strength without being tensed is like watching a bird effortlessly fly through the air or a cheetah running at super speeds across the grasslands.  You got to make it look easy.  Yes, you pause at first – to make people think you can’t do the action – but then you reveal your power with a calm body.  It makes the feat you’re doing look even more impressive.  So, relax your face, Harry, and let those big muscles of yours show people what you can do.  Well, with a little help from this huge old man.”

 

Harry was a quick learner. He un-tensed his body, shook out his arms a little, and then replaced his hands on Bud’s giant hands.  He then smiled and began to squeeze.  Bud could tell the smaller guy was applying some pressure, but it didn’t really register to his powerful hands.  However, my big boyfriend knew just how to please the younger man.  He began to compress his hands, too.  At first, nothing happened, then there was a loud screech and the keg folded in on itself slightly.  Everyone knew the thing could be compresses with a flick of the huge man’s wrists, but watching it be destroyed slowly was what everyone wanted. They also wanted to pretend it was Harry doing the crushing.

 

“Oh yeah, big Harry, look what you did,” Bud said enthusiastically.  “That poor keg had no choice but to give into your super strength. You’re going to demolish the thing like it was a paper cup.  Look at your bulging arms, dude.  Such power in those guns.  Go ahead, crush the thing some more.”  

 

Harry smiled a little more and pressed his hands in strongly, causing his pecs to pump out even harder.  There wasn’t a sign of strain on either man’s face – both enjoying the show as much as the gathered audience.  Bud pushed his hands in slowly – allowing the bartender to set the pace.  The keg immediately screamed from the super pressure of the older man’s strength.  Everyone in the room knew that Bud was compressing the keg, but it was fun as hell to imagine that it was Harry.  Harry easily suspended disbelief and accepted that he, himself, was crushing the pathetic metal object in his hands.  For years the bartender had lifted kegs – both full and empty ones – dreaming of what it would be like to mangle one like it was paper, crumpling it in his hands and discarding it casually.  Now, here he was squeezing the big thing in on itself and listening to the metal screech loudly as he made it succumb to his power.  By this point Harry was rock hard – actually harder than he had ever been in his entire life.  He stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and only saw his big arms demolishing the keg.  He was so turned on by his pretend strength that he was almost able to ignore the giant behind him – the enormous grampa what was actually easily performing the feat of strength.

 

“Aw hell, Harry, listen to solid steel screaming because of your power,” Bud said to egg on the younger man.  “It’s begging you to stop.  It can’t believe a guy could crush it like it was nothing.  Damn dude, look how it buckles to your strength.  And look how huge you are getting!  Squeeze it into nothing but a piece of junk, man.  Make it know that you’re the boss and it’s nothing compared to those bulging arms of yours.  Finish it off, Harry.  Flatten then thing into the size of a pancake.”

 

Bud’s words made the young bartender’s fantasy complete.  Harry was beginning to even more feel like he was, indeed, crushing the keg.  It was so empowering to be surrounded by so much muscle – there was no way to not be aware of the hardness that encompassed him and pressed from behind – and to be encouraged in the dream of destroying something powerful with your bare hands. Harry felt like a superhero.  He enjoyed the idea that crushing a keg was nothing more than crumpling a tissue for him.  The constant screeching of the metal as it was manipulated into a thin piece of junk was intoxicating.  Harry got a small glimpse of what it was like to be Bud Stevens – to not doubt your abilities at all, to internally know you had absolutely no limits.  The bartender pressed in harder, cluing the senior muscleman into his desire to go faster and compress harder.  Bud obliged and the keg was quickly destroyed, turned into a smashed thin slab of metal.  It looked like a heavy serving tray.  A loud clanking sound came at the end – as Harry and Bud smashed the keg into something unrecognizable.  

 

“Aw, little man, you turned that big keg into a piece of paper made of metal,” Bud exclaimed proudly. “But you’re not done, Harry. Let’s crumple that thing like it was only paper.  Let’s turn the thing into a wad of steel the size of a tennis ball.”

 

Harry kept his hands pressed against Bud’s big paws as they reached around the thin sheet of metal that used to be the keg and started crushing it inward like it was a used napkin getting readied for the trashcan.  Soon, the two men had the once large keg squeezed into something that looked like a metal blob – fingerprints imbedded all around it.  Bud held the thing in his open palm – waiting for the younger man to take it.  Harry removed his hands from the back of Bud’s and reached to grab the now terribly deformed keg in one hand – completely forgetting how heavy the thing would be.  He couldn’t lift it from Bud’s palm with one hand.  He had to bring his other one to the small ball of compressed metal and lift with both.  The thing was still pretty warm from its structure being reformed into something unrecognizable.  Harry was confounded by the fact that something so small could weigh so much.  

 

“Look at you, super strong Harry,” Bud said.  “Demolishing that thing as if it was nothing for you.  Big little-man crushing a giant keg into a little ball.  How’s it feel to be so powerful, man?”

 

“Fucking incredible, sir!” Harry responded.

 

The young bartender was still not moving from his warm nestled space up against Bud’s giant body. The heat from the senior muscleman was like some kind of drug – addictive and oh-so-comforting.  Harry continued to hold the warm blob in his hands and marveled at its weight even more. 

 

“Man, look how it made your biceps pop out, Harry,” Bud said, egging the smaller man on even more. “Let’s see those guns, dude.  Get over to the bar and flex one of them beside Connor’s arm.  Hey Connor, come compare.”

 

Harry reluctantly tore his body away from Bud’s – but the thought of showing off his big arms was exciting – especially since they were pumped up pretty big.  I also got excited about comparing my small arm to the bartender’s swole gun.  Comparisons between big guys and small guys had always been a big turn on for me. Harry leaned forward, placed his elbow on the bar and flexed hard.  I was impressed with how big the bulge was.  The dude had some killer arms – probably about nineteen inches.  I placed my little man arm beside his and flexed. I was in no way a slouch.  I had a pretty good body and worked out regularly, but I wasn’t interested in being huge.  I liked being with huge men.  My biceps looked pathetic beside the mound of muscle that popped out beside me.  My boyfriend had the biggest muscles around, but it was still nice looking at Harry’s well-formed gun.

 

 “Look how small you make my boyfriend’s arm look, Harry,” Bud said, knowing full well this kind of talk turned me on – a lot.  “My boy loves it when big men compare their muscles to little guys – especially if he’s the little guy.  I have no idea why he loves big muscles so much.  Maybe it has something to do with his boyfriend.” 

 

“I’d say that’s right,” Harry responded.

 

“That’s a very respectable arm, Harry,” Bud said.  “What are you sporting there?  Twenty inches?  Twenty-one?”

 

“Um . . . no, it’s only nineteen, sir,” Harry answered; clearly afraid he was disappointing the huge older man.

 

“Dude, that’s fantastic,” Bud said, encouraging the smaller man.  “You’ll hit twenty with no problem.”

 

“I hope so, sir,” Harry said, flexing his gun beside my even harder – as if he thought he could will it to grow. 

 

“Ready to see some real meat, fellas?” Bud asked.

 

“Yes sir!” Harry and I responded together, both of us keeping our arms flexed on the bar.

 

“Harry, my man,” Bud said, “let’s show you what forty-two inch guns look like.”

 

The bartender moaned out loud as soon as he heard the elder man say the size of his biceps.  It was still hard for me to fathom their size and I was around them all the time.  The minute old man Stevens flexed his arm on the bar beside ours the entire room went dead silent.  We had all seen his uncovered body all night long – and I’d seen if for a lot longer – but there was just something about seeing the insanely humongous thing beside our own arms that took everyone’s breath away.  The man had become a muscle monster – something that online morphers couldn’t even have imagined.  His arm was super gigantic and shredded at the same time.  Two incredible peaks blasted upward – way beyond comprehension – and dwarfed even Harry’s big guns in a way that made the grown man’s limb look like that of a tiny baby.  Bud had been perfectly right when he said I loved big man-little man comparisons. Seeing large bulging muscles beside smaller ones made me think of power, strength, and sexy cockiness, but nothing could have prepared me for every time I saw Bud Stevens’ muscles next to some other grown man – especially a man that was considered big in all other situations. Bud’s mammoth mound of muscle ballooned out like a giant living boulder in motion.  Harry’s arm screamed of gym strength, while my elder lover’s arm screamed of superhero power beyond reason – the kind of power that could literally move mountains.  

 

“Look, Harry, your arm looks like a matchbox car beside my semi-truck gun,” Bud teased.  “It looks like a tiny dwarf planet up next to the sun. It looks like a teeny-weeny mouse next to an enormous elephant…”

 

“We get the point, Bud,” I said, laughing.

 

“Yeah, but the two of you also get off on me pointing out the obvious, too,” Bud replied, knowing full well that Harry and I were mesmerized by the unbelievable comparison shot in front of us.  “Just can’t help it, dudes, I’m huge.  I have to turn sideways to get in doublewide doors and duck even in archways. Somebody done morphed me something massive!”

 

“Um . . . fellas, I gotta get off.  I’m in need of some relief,” Harry said, loudly – his voice catching us off guard.

 

“Whoa there, little man,” Bud said, after we both turned to look at the bartender.  “You’re face is turning purple.  You do need to blast a big one, don’t you?”

 

“Yes sir,” Harry answered.

 

“Got any fun ideas on how you’d like to lose your load,” Bud asked.

 

“I’d like you to flex, sir, and then I’ll do the rest,” Harry responded quickly – making it obvious he had been thinking about this for a while.

 

“Sure thing, little Harry,” Bud said and then he stood up and threw his arms into that now very familiar double biceps pose.  

 

The Alps weren’t nearly as majestic as Bud Stevens’ arms.  The monstrous things were a shock to behold every time he flexed.  It was never something I’d take for granted.  I was sure of that.  It was partly because the arms were so humongous that it was mind boggling, but it was also because they belonged to a man that was so nice, so confident, so mature, and so damn naturally cocky.  Bud didn’t come across as arrogant – he just exuded so much sure-ness, so much power that he appeared just naturally aware that the world was his plaything.  Bud didn’t want to be big to be mean – he wanted to be big to show off.  His brain worked on overload to try and figure out new things to make me . . . and other guys . . . happy.  I was falling madly in love with this senior muscleman and I knew he felt the same way about me.  I was now confident beyond my wildest dreams merely because I had this behemoth of a senior man adoring me all the time.  I knew I could ask him to do anything and he’d do it for me.  I’d never take advantage of that, but I did dream about having him destroy big things or mangle them just because I asked him to.  I now knew how Lois Lane felt.  Harry moving up to my giant boyfriend brought me back to the present moment.

 

When Harry, a genuinely big man, stood in front of Bud he seemed like a child.  The big bartender just didn’t come close to matching the size, the thickness, the height, or the muscled massiveness of the man he faced. I could tell that Harry was astounded to be dwarfed so much by another human being.  It was just something he wasn’t used to.  He tried to look up into Bud’s face, but my elder lover had inhaled as he flexed his arms and his massive freight container sized chest ballooned out in a way that intimidated and thrilled at the same time.  Bud decided to have some fun with that fact.

 

“Hey, where did little Harry go?  He was here just a minute ago.  Was I just too much for him to handle?  I thought he wanted to have some fun,” Bud said with mock surprise.

 

He glanced at me with a quizzical face and I pointed down below his inflated blimp-sized pecs.  Bud leaned forward, so his face could see over his own mammoth chest.  He put on a show for the bartender – starting with a startled look.

 

“Oh, there you are, Harry!” he said, teasingly.  “I didn’t see you.  Something huge was in the way.  It’s a good thing I didn’t move forward and trample you.  So, you had a special way you wanted to bust out a big deserving load?”

 

Harry took a step back, so he could take in all of the hugeness in front of him.  He shook his head for the hundredth time, clearly, still in disbelief of the elder behemoth he beheld.  The bartender was still trying to figure out how it was possible for a senior citizen to be the size of a house, have the strength of ten superheroes put together, and love to show off as if he were an entire tent of circus performers thrilling all the children in the world.  For that is what Harry felt like next to Bud Stevens – a child. It wasn’t off-putting or negative in any way.  As a matter of fact it was freeing.  Harry found that he could let go and be exactly who he was when he was around Bud. He didn’t need to impress . . . well, he actually couldn’t impress anyone as long as Bud Stevens was nearby. He just got to be the adoring puppy with his master and that felt so comfortable.

 

“Just keep your arms flexed, sir, and I’ll do the rest,” the bartender said.

 

“I can keep these stupendous guns flexed as long as you want, little man,” Bud replied.  “You just go ahead and do whatever you want.”

 

Harry needed no more encouragement than that.  He bent his legs, extended his arms, and jumped.  I clearly saw what he intended to do even before my giant boyfriend did. Harry let his bent fingers rest on the top of Bud’s wide-as-a-table biceps.  Even Harry’s big hands weren’t able to cup the massive peaks of Bud’s arms. My own hands looked like toothpicks when pressed against Bud’s mammoth guns, but Harry’s didn’t look much bigger. After adjusting his body, so his frame was smack-dab even with Bud’s, Harry started to pull his full weight up, slowly and deliberately.  The bartender was doing pull-ups on Bud’s arms, but he was also making sure his body pressed against the stone-like body of the giant as he went up and down. Harry intended to get his rocks off by thrusting his cock and his entire body up and down Bud’s bulging muscles. Bud let out a loud warrior-like yell when he realized what the little bartender intended to do.  My senior muscle boyfriend also tensed his chest, abs, and thighs to give his little friend something even harder to masturbate against.  I had pressed my dick against my bed so many times to get off during my lifetime, that I quickly understood having hard, warm, flesh against your cock – even when it was covered in clothing – would probably induce orgasm in just a few scrapes against all Bud’s bulges.

 

“Five . . . six,” Bud had started counting the times Harry went up and down. “Seven, I bet you can’t make it to twenty, Harry . . . eight . . . not because you aren’t strong enough, but because I don’t think your raging hard-on can last that long. Nine.  Certainly not up against all this thick hardness.  Ten.”

 

Harry’s already purple face was now even a darker color.  I knew it wasn’t the strain of the pull-ups – certainly a man in Harry’s gorgeous shape – could crank out a hundred chin-ups with no problem.  No, his struggle was from the knowledge that the unmoving massive structure he was exercising on was human.  Well, he actually wondered if a man the size and hardness of Bud Stevens could be human.  There was certainly blood pumping through the vein-covered bulges of the giant man, but Harry wondered if it were some kind of super-serum instead.  Some kind of blood that had been enhanced into something immortal or god-like.  Harry had no idea how close he was.  It was pretty clear that if Harry could have held out for a little longer the front of his cargo shorts would have been easily worn through.  Bud’s body was that hard and unforgiving.  Harry’s own monster cock was equally as hard.  On lift number seventeen, when Harry was at the peak of his upward motion, he let out a deep piercing pleasure scream that surely could be heard for miles around.  The word gushed didn’t come close to describing the fire hydrant powered release that exploded from the rod in his shorts.  Harry held his body at the peak of his lift.  The force of his explosion made his lower body pummel away from Bud’s abs and then come slamming back into their ribbed hardness, which, in turn, intensified the man’s release.

 

“Stand back, boys, he’s an untapped oil well,” Bud boomed into the room.

 

I didn’t know it was possible for a man to go as purple as Harry went during his ejaculation.  I knew his cock was going to ache for weeks to come.  He was having a Bud Stevens almost-coma induced spurt and I, personally, knew how intense they could be.  I swear Harry’s body grew from its orgasmic workout.  I bet he added a few inches of muscle all over – that’s how powerful his explosion was.  Bud reached up and grabbed the smaller man at the waist – not wanting him to fall when he finally stopped spurting.   I began to worry that the bartender was going to have a heart attack right there on the spot.  My big boyfriend tended to have that kind of effect on people.  Finally, after what seemed like an hour or so, Harry’s body went limp and he stopped shooting.  I thought he might be unconscious, but suddenly his arms dropped and his face went to Bud’s chest.  The bartender’s mouth opened and nestled down on Bud’s doorknob sized nipple and he looked like a baby happy to get his bottle.  Bud moved the guy to that side and held him in place with one huge arm. He then motioned to me.

 

“Come on over here, Connor. There’s another big man nipple for you to suck on.  Come join Harry for a little dessert.  You both deserve it,” Bud said, making sure I was included in all the fun – he was such a thoughtful man.

 

I took a few steps and then leapt into the air – the big man’s arm catching me as if I were nothing more than a bunch of cotton balls.  I had my mouth on his sweet nip in mere seconds – sucking as if my life depended on it.  My huge lover chuckled and squeezed me tightly.  He knew the feeling of his huge arm surrounding me was like having a comforter, a wood burning stove, and the heat of an entire football team’s bodies surrounding me at the same time.  The energy of Bud’s body, if harnessed, could have probably powered the continent for many years.   I glanced over at Harry and was surprised to see his eyes were open.  He was looking at me with a face so full of gratitude he didn’t need to say a word.  I could tell he was saying thank you for sharing my huge boyfriend with him.  He didn’t realize that there was no way I could say no to Bud Stevens – mainly because I could never satisfy him on my own completely, but also because letting the man grant wishes and live out fantasies for other little guys was what the big man had been made for. There was no way I could keep the muscled senior citizen to myself.  He might be my boyfriend, but someone so magnificent, so huge, and so incredibly powerful could not be hidden or selfishly kept for myself.  He was a gift to the world and he had to be shared. Besides, Bud believed himself to be the incarnation of a morphed muscled Santa Claus – here, on earth, to bring good will to all men.

londonboy

Who's the Big Man Now?

“Do you recognize me, Mario?”

 

The face was very familiar, but the body was not.  I knew instantly, the moment he walked up, that it was David Williams – from high school. The guy had certainly changed, though. He had been a skinny dweeb of barely one hundred pounds all the way up to graduation.  Now he looked to be over three hundred pounds of shredded muscle, clearly visible through a super tight t-shirt.  The guy straddled the chair across the table from me like some confident jock getting ready to start a wrestling match.  I swallowed hard as I stared at his mega pecs bouncing under the fabric of his shirt and his biceps swelling out when he bent his arms to rest them on the table.  I couldn’t help but notice that the bulging muscle forced the sleeves to ride upward, towards his mammoth shoulders.  The face was definitely still David, but it was cut and muscular in a way that gave notice that the body attached was huge and insanely developed.

 

“Yeah, I can tell by your shocked look you recognize me.  I’ve changed a little haven’t I?  Well, not exactly a little.  I’m glad the look on your face didn’t disappoint me.  I’ve waited for this day for a long time.  I couldn’t believe I found you on Scruff and that you used your real name.  That was pretty ballsy for a quote unquote supposed straight guy.  Imagine my great surprise when I found out that we only lived approximately two miles from each other.  Of all the cities in the world and you and I chose the same one – that was just so sweet.  What a convenient coincidence, don’t you think?  Don’t you have anything to say, Mario?”

 

“You’re huge, David.”

 

“I’m so glad you noticed, dude.  And I have you to thank mostly for my improvements, man.  It’s mainly because of all the shit you put me through for four years of high school that I decided to grow some.”

 

The big man let silence surround the table just so I would get the full effect of his proclamation. My mind was spinning with different thoughts.  I was still trying to get my head around the guy’s new size and bulging muscles, I was desperately trying to remember everything I had ever done to him in high school, and I was trying to figure out the quickest way out of the restaurant. David’s face was really calm, but I could hear in his voice some anger.  I was instantly pissed off at myself for getting so hard underneath the table – knowing it was partly the guy’s new body and partly the idea of him being slightly fueled by rage.  I think it was definitely playing into my fantasies about the Incredible Hulk. Being turned on, however, did not lessen my immediate fear.  David now looked like he could easily whip my ass with just one of his huge arms and I was beginning to think my only hope would be to move faster than his giant body. The dude somehow read my mind or saw the plan written on my face.

 

“You’d be amazed, Mario, at how fast I can move for being such a big man.  I can promise you I’d have you thrown over my shoulder heading out the door by the time you took your second step.  I’m not saying that to prevent you from trying to run, since I’d really like to show off and capture you like some small, frightened animal – but public decency demanded that I warn you about my incredible speed and flexibility.  I’m not just some immobile huge muscleman, Mario.  I can do a standing back flip and clear the ground higher than your head. I’ll have to show you that sometime.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Well, we’re on a date aren’t we?  I’d like to order dinner and have some wine, along with some light chit chat and some dessert, and then I’m going to make you pay for all the torturing you inflicted on me for four years in school.  How does that sound?”

 

I didn’t answer – mainly because I was fighting back the urge to ooze out a dollop of pre-cum caused by what he was saying.  I was also scared shitless.  My heart was pounding and I had suddenly lost all contact with the restaurant around us. There was only the big man across the table and me – nothing else seemed to matter.  I was still trying to think of a way to escape the situation – stand up and yell fire, slip the note to the waiter asking him to call the police, excuse myself to the bathroom and see if there was a window to escape from – but I could also feel this unexplainable need to stay.  For a second I was totally confused, but then it dawned on me – I wanted to do my penance.  I knew I had tortured this guy for four years – mainly because he was smaller than me and I needed to pick on someone to help hide my budding homosexuality – and I knew I deserved whatever was coming to me.  There was also the fact that I secretly loved domination, but that was a fact that didn’t need to be explored at this exact moment.

 

“I mean, you’ve flirted with me for over five weeks, Mario – well, not exactly me.  You flirted with Muscledude2008 and revealed a bunch of stuff I never knew.  I hope you figured out that 2008 signifies the year we both graduated.  I never realized you were so into muscle, Mario. You are one dude with a super fetish. Imagine my confusion when I heard the guy that used to call me every derogatory term for being gay post, and I quote, ‘I want to lick every hard bulging muscle on your body – especially that one bulging underneath your shorts between your legs.’  It was actually a little surreal, Mario.  I mean I can’t lie – it turned me on in some weird, sick way, but it also egged me on to carry on the charade until you agreed to meet me.  I now know why it took so long – I can see you lied a little on your stats, bro.”

 

My face turned bright red. I had, indeed, stretched the truth about my build and my weight.  I had immediately seen myself as I truly was, when I glanced at David’s perfect body. I was a slightly overweight ex-jock that had let himself go to pot during college.  I had already started that steady decline to a pot-bellied, balding forty year old that didn’t care how he looked- and I wasn’t even twenty-five. Again, the behemoth in front of me must have read my mind.

 

“Don’t worry, Mario. You haven’t put on enough weight for me not be able to easily lift you over my head.  You’d be amazed at what I can press in the air.  You’d be almost as easy as a barbell loaded only with twenty-five pounds.  Cause you see, little man, my muscles aren’t just for show – they are for power, too. The kind of power you have only fantasized about, dude.  What do you say, Mario?  Wanna be high in the sky like an airplane?  Want to see all my huge muscles from an aerial view?  I think you’d like that . . . no, I know you’d like that a lot.  It was pretty hot when you confessed online to Muscle2008 that you secretly fantasized in high school about Brett Hoover benching your body in the air over and over.  By the way, I spent some time with Brett a few weeks ago and trust me he wouldn’t be able to bench you.  Yeah, that got you worrying didn’t it, Mario?  Me visiting Brett – your partner in bullying.  Are you now trying to figure out why he didn’t call to warn you? Well, to begin with, I scared the shit out of him and told him if he warned you I’d be back to visit him.  But secondly, and far more interesting, is the fact that Brett is into muscle and strength, too.  Yeah, you didn’t see that coming did you, Mario.”

 

“What do you mean he’s into strength and muscle?”

 

“Dude, Brett may be married and all, but he’s just like you.  By the time the night was done the guy was begging me to toss him around the room. He came so many times while I was manhandling his puny body he smelled like a gay bathhouse.  He’s a biceps man like you wouldn’t believe.  He got off on these twenty-four inch guns so many times I lost count.”

 

Even if I had known what was coming I could not have prepared myself.  It didn’t matter to David that we were in a fancy Italian restaurant in the middle of town – he threw his mammoth arms into a double biceps pose that was so incredible it caused two waiters to crash into each other a few feet away.  I, however, didn’t even turn to look as dishes, glasses, and trays came crashing to the floor.  I was too mesmerized by arms that looked morphed, inhuman, and oh so lickable.  I was surprised my hardened cock had not made the table wobbly.  It was threatening explosion like it was a bomb with a short fuse.  I suddenly got the feeling that the huge guy across from the table wasn’t even flexing that hard and yet his arms ballooned up into unbelievable proportions.

 

“Better wipe your mouth, Mario, you’re drooling.  Better not get this placed too worked up.  I don’t want to be arrested for causing a riot.  Most people haven’t ever seen a guy as big as me.  I just wanted to show you what got Brett on his knees faster than bedtime prayers.”

 

I was now beyond wanting to escape.  I didn’t care what pain came later on.  I certainly didn’t worry about whatever embarrassments the behemoth who sat with me was going to cause.  I just wanted to be near him . . . to admire his hugeness.  To gawk at his massive ‘carved in stone’ muscles.  To listen to him talk about himself.  It registered on some level that he was telling me my best friend in high school – the quarterback extraordinaire was really into men and muscle, but I was filing that away for access at a later date. Right now, I just wanted to focus on the muscled giant that sat across from the table.  The guy who could probably flex out of his clothes with as little effort as it would for him to take on the entire restaurant and win.  I was in muscle heaven and it didn’t matter that it was a guy that wanted to do me harm.  I deserved it.  I had been really cruel to him – to keep focus away from myself.  That was no excuse, though.  As it wasn’t an excuse that I was dolling out the same kind of abuse I endured for many years from my dad at home.  I had figured out a long time ago that my dad probably hid the same secret I did – and wanting me to be the perfect redneck athlete was probably his way of hiding it.  I decided, right there and then, to enjoy the evening – no matter how it played out.  I knew exactly how to begin.  Years of therapy had prepared me for this minute.

 

“David, I am truly sorry for how I treated you in high school.  I know it’s too late to take it back.  I also hope you know I was bullying to hide the fact that I, too, was gay. I don’t offer that as an excuse . . . there isn’t one.  I simply offer it as an explanation.  I ask for your forgiveness.”

 

The look on his face immediately told me this was not how he anticipated the nigh to progress.  My apology and explanation caught him off guard. The muscled bravado that was there just seconds disappeared and I got a glimpse of the dude I was so mean to all those years ago.  My heart opened to him in a way I couldn’t explain.  I had been born with genes that made me grow big in junior high.  He had been born with genes that prevented him from growing until after high school.  I had used my size and my muscles to hide my homosexuality during those years.  He had not had that opportunity.  His small size, his high pitched voice, and his comfortableness with himself – known as confidence – had made him the perfect target for a couple of mean-spirited, closeted, fearful redneck athletes.  I immediately saw the world from his view.  I even saw myself – fully – and it disgusted me.  His surprise at my words continued.

 

“Why would you say that, Mario?”

 

“Because I mean it. Therapy, as well as coming to terms with how I was bullied as a child makes me realize that what I put you through was wrong . . . no, it was more than wrong . . . it was unforgivable.”

 

Some of the anger in David’s face seemed to leak out – like a small hole in a balloon.  He stared at me – still looking as huge and gorgeous as he had earlier, but now there wasn’t this Hulk-like uncontrollable anger seething out of every part of his body.  W simply stared at each other for a few minutes.  He finally raised one of his arms and I swear a waiter was there in less than a second.  Mario looked at him.

 

“Two vodka martinis – very dry.  He will have his with olives and I will have mine with onions.  Kettle One.”  

 

David flexed his raised arm as he placed the order.  It was an act to give the waiter some added incentive to get our drinks quickly.  I knew, by the look in the server’s eyes and the drool at the corner of his mouth it would work.  David knew it, too.  He also knew I was staring at the flexed biceps, as well.  

 

“You seem to remember our online chats as well as I do, David.  Thanks for remembering what I like.”

 

“None of this means I’m not still angry for what you did to me!”

 

“I wouldn’t think it did. You have a right to be angry.  I’d be angry, too.”

 

I could tell he was still trying to discern if he should trust me.  I had pretended to be nice to him in high school and then turned on him unexpectedly – loving how it made me fee.  No wonder he didn’t believe me.  I knew I had to prove a lot to him and I knew it would have to be slow.

 

“Might I suggest the mushroom risotto?  I know it’s a favorite of yours.”

 

It was David’s turn to be surprised that I remembered something from our online chats.  He had no idea how much I had memorized . . . how much I had beat off to what he said.  Mushroom risotto was a longtime favorite of his . . . just as mango sorbet was, as well.  I would save that one for later.

 

“It is.  That’s nice of you to remember.”

 

“I gotta ask, man. How did you get so big?”

 

“It’s amazing how anger can fuel you, Mario.  The day after graduation I moved to here.  The next day I joined a gym and got an awesome trainer.  He often says he has never seen someone so focused.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was all based on a desire for revenge.  At some point I started loving working out just for the fun of it and lost track of my desire to get back at you guys.  I just kept hitting the weights hard – loving how it felt to grow – and suddenly I was huge.  My trainer said he had never seen someone grow so quickly.  It wasn’t until I was scrolling through Scruff one day and came across your face that the memory of retribution came back to me.  I stalked you on social media and finally learned everything I needed to know about you and Brett.  That kind of re-fueled my desire to get you back.  And here I am now.”

 

“Wow, maybe I should get angry at someone so I could get back in shape.”

 

“I don’t recommend it. Your body might be healthy, but it does some wild shit to your psyche.”

 

“I really am sorry.”

 

“I believe you, Mario. You know, Brett didn’t say that once while we were together.  I tossed him around his basement for about four hours straight and he just talked about how big and strong I was.  He never even contemplated apologizing.  That made me want to abuse him even more.  Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt him.  I just made sure he was petrified of me.”

 

“I can see why he would be.”

 

“Who bullied you, Mario?”

 

“My dad.  I think he was trying to deal with his sexuality, too. And he took it out on me.  He died, unexpectedly, in a car accident about five years ago.  I hadn’t spoken to him in a couple of months, so I never got to ask him about anything. It’s taken a few years with a good therapist to not blame him for all of my problems.”

 

“I’m sorry that happened to you and I’m sorry to hear about his passing.”

 

“Thanks.  I actually miss him a lot – even if he was a tough man to love.”

 

“I used to beat off thinking about you, Mario.  Even when you were bullying me.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa David. You can’t just say that out of the blue, especially when you were talking about tossing me around like a rag doll for revenge earlier.  It’s a little too much for a guy to take in.”

 

“I liked it when you manhandled me.  As I grew I fantasized about manhandling you in the same way.  And in my fantasies, you liked it.”

 

So, this was a perfect example of how the internet had invaded our personal lives.  My high school bully magnet – who had turned into a monstrous muscle dude – now knew intimate details about my sexual likes and dislikes.  Granted, I had not known that Muscledude2008 was David, but I had still confessed to him all sorts of stuff.  He knew me better than my family.  He also knew I had a fetish for being dominated.  There was so much wrong with this situation, but there was so much right, too.

 

“Um, we both know that you know I like it for real.  Not just in your fantasies.”

 

“Yes we do.”

 

Of course the waiter would choose this moment to appear with our drinks and to take our order.  I took my martini glass, pulled out the toothpick with the olives and then downed the drink in one long gulp.  I scrunched my face up as the vodka burned its way down my throat and then I placed the empty glass on the tray of the astounded waiter and held up my forefinger to order one more.  As I slid the toothpick between my teeth and chewed up the olives I turned back to the muscle god who was now staring at me.

 

“I want to toss you around, Mario.”

 

“Oh shit, where is that second martini.”

 

“Not for revenge.  I admit that was part of it before, but not now. Maybe it wasn’t even part of it before. I just really got off on it when you would talk about a big man dominating you.”

 

“Oh fuck, I really need that martini.”

 

“Don’t you want me to pick you up and throw you around?”

 

“Stop, David!  Don’t say another word.  I’m about to cum so hard it will make the table levitate. This is not what I anticipated for this evening.  You gotta give me just a few minutes to calm down.  Please.  I am a regular patron at this restaurant.  I want to be able to show my face her again.  Please, just be quiet for a few seconds.”

 

By this point, our little exchange had peaked the curiosity of our neighboring tables.  I’m sure some of them had heard the entire conversation. I’m also sure I wasn’t the only hard-on in the vicinity.  As if on cue, the waiter – with a raging boner clearly outlined in his black slacks – delivered my martini.  I did not down this one right away.  I could tell the waiter wanted to linger at our table for longer, but there was nothing keeping him there.  Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he walked away.  I eventually got the nerve to look David in the eye again.  He spoke first.

 

“I still want you.”

 

“Why, David?  Look at me.  I’m getting old and fat way before my time.”

 

“To me, you’ll always be that hunky football player that used to lift me up off the floor against the lockers.  I used to beat off to that every night in high school.  Now, I beat off thinking about doing it to you . . . with one hand.”

 

I immediately raised my hands to silence him.  He had added the part of doing it with one hand just to tease me. I could tell by the devious smile that accompanied the comment.  I was also having trouble processing the entire evening.  Had David really enjoyed the bullying on some level? Had he intuitively known how much I enjoyed it?  Were all of our actions purely a way for us to live out our fantasies without us even knowing it?  Maybe we somehow knew – on some unknown level – that we shared the same fetish.  Here I was, sitting with a muscled god hoping he would dominate me later on – even when I knew fully well he was some guy I bullied in high school.  How could life be so complicated?  Was any of this okay?  Were we normal?  Again, David clearly knew what I was thinking.

 

“Quit analyzing it, Mario. The past doesn’t matter.  I know you are genuinely sorry for what you did. I want us to move on and you should, too.  Let me show you what my new body can do.  I can make you very happy.  I promise you that.  It’s what I want, too.  I’m also hard as a rock under the table – just from thinking about holding you in the air or making you spurt from showing off my strength.  I’ve realized I’ve really only ever wanted you.  I know the man you could be.  I know that you have let yourself go out of guilt for what you did to me in high school.  Let me help you return to the hulky football player you were.  Let me dominate you and be your trainer at the same time.  I think I’ve become huge solely for this mission. I’ve always wanted you and I still do.”

 

All of this was almost too much for me to handle.  I felt ashamed for what I had done to David in high school.  I felt turned on by the idea of him manhandling me.  I so wanted to be dominated . . . and the idea of it being someone I bullied in the past only made it more intense . . . more satisfying.   This all made the situation seem so much more bizarre.  I could only think of one thing to say.

 

“I’m yours, David.  Do as you please with me.”  

londonboy

Don't Make Him Mad

“Man, everyone seems to always forget you’ve changed.”

 

“I know.”

 

“They still think you’re this skinny-assed stick with the strength of a dweeb.”

 

“It’s hard even for me to remember sometimes.”

 

“I don’t see how you could forget, you sent two co-workers to the hospital today.”

 

“Well, they made me angry.”

 

“I would have never guessed! Was that the reason you smashed their bodies against the wall with the copier until bones were broken?  The big machine is now about two feet thinner and not worth shit.  Don’t worry, we needed a new one anyway.”

 

“Those two guys deserved it!”

 

“You’ll get no argument from me or from anyone else about that.  I can’t believe how fortunate it was you walked in when you did.  It’s hard to understand why they would attack Elizabeth in the back room and think they could get away with it.  The police aren’t even pressing charges against you since those jerks were caught in the act.  What happened to the big guy’s face, anyway?”

 

“It kind of got slammed into the wall.”

 

“What?  How did that happen?”

 

“Well, I basically just picked him up by the back of his neck, carried him over to the wall and made the plaster stop his head from moving.  That’s when the other guy hit me in the back with the folding machine.  He just picked up the big thing and threw it at me.  I guess it shocked the hell out of him when I didn’t even budge a little and the damn thing caved in on itself like it had hit concrete.  I just turned around, walked over, and grabbed his neck in the V of my hand, easily lifted his body in the air, and then tossed him over by the other guy.  Seeing both of them trying to stand gave me the idea about the copier so I bent down and lifted the entire thing to chest level and pinned both of them against the wall.  It was wild watching their eyes bug out as I applied so much pressure that ribs finally started cracking.”

 

“Just like that you lifted our big copier?”

 

“Yeah.  With only one hand, too.”

 

“That is fucking unbelievable, dude.  Hey, I bet Elizabeth would give you a great fuck for saving her – you should get some of that nice body before her gratitude wears off.”

 

“Man, stop it.  The woman was just attacked by two guys.  I’m not going to do anything.  She’s not even my type.  You’re disgusting, dude.”

 

I reached out and gave my coworker, Roger, a friendly slap on the back – or what I thought was just a light tap.  My hand connected with him and the super force caused his body to go flying into the air, over the conference table, and the guy ended up doing a flip onto the floor on the other side.  It happened so quickly that neither of us could have prevented it.  I was horrified at my mistake and went running around the table.

 

“Roger, I’m so sorry, man. Are you okay?  I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I know you didn’t mean it, Dalton.  You really haven’t gotten used to your new strength, have you?”

 

“Naw, man, it’s still so bizarre to have to think about doing things gently or reacting a little more softly.  Just last week I was at the back of the elevator and the doors opened to my floor, no one was moving and everyone seemed to be on their phone or not paying attention when I said, “Excuse me.”  I kind of pushed the crowd forward thinking I could make my way through, but I ended up sending four guys flying into the hallway.  It was just a little shove, but it was enough to send a quartet of big men soaring through the air.”

 

“I think I know exactly how they felt.”

 

“I’m really sorry, Roger.”

 

“No, that’s fine, Dalt-man. I love being thrown across tables.”

 

“Well, I didn’t exactly throw you across the table…”

 

“That’s what it felt like, dude – so that’s how I’ll describe it.”

 

Roger was standing again and straightening his disheveled suit jacket and adjusting his tie.  My coworker was a handsome guy of about thirty-three years old – the type of office friend you’d get a drink with, but someone you didn’t really hang out with all the time.  We were both attorneys at a big firm downtown and it was Friday afternoon.  Earlier that day I had walked in on two burley security guards employed by our office tower basically trying to rape one of our secretaries.  It had been a surprise to all of us when I entered the workroom, looking for rubber bands.  The two dudes made me really angry when they immediately shouted for me to get the fuck out of the room.  I saw a petrified look on Elizabeth’s face and noticed that her dress was torn at the top. I asked her if everything was okay. One of the guards snarled that everything was fine and then added if I left at that moment I wouldn’t get hurt. That had only pissed me off more. I asked Elizabeth again if she was okay and that’s when the guy standing closest to me hauled off and hit me in the stomach.  I was pretty shocked by the fact that I barely felt the impact and I knew he had used all of his strength.  It was pretty clear the two guys assumed I was still the dweeb I had always been, but the first clue of a change should have been my size.  I loved seeing the man’s face go white with pain and shock. He turned to his partner for help and that’s when I picked him up easily by the back of his neck.  

 

“I still can’t get over the indentions in the wall back in the workroom where you basically created a mold of those guys’ bodies in the plaster.  Shit, it’s a good thing the wall gave a little or you would have done a lot more damage to their puny bodies.  You’re a true hero, Dalton.”

 

“You think so?  I’m not sure about that.  I just reacted like any one would – and, besides, those guys ticked me off.”

 

“Remind me to never make you mad.  Hey, you want go get a celebratory drink at Fin McCool’s?”

 

“Sure, that sounds good. Just let me go turn off my computer and get my stuff.”

 

In basically less than half an hour we were standing in the middle of the crowded Irish pub that seemed to be the favorite place of everyone at our firm.  Our ties were undone, our jackets were off, and we were each on our second Guinness.  Since I had grown so much it was the only beer that seemed to help me get even a slight buzz.

 

“What are you going to do with the week off and the big bonus the partners gave you for saving Elizabeth.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll really take that, you know.  I don’t have any place I want to go.  I’ll probably just put the money in my savings.”

 

“What?  No, dude!  You’ve got to celebrate.  You need to go out and get wild.  I mean you fucking smashed two guys almost to a pulp!  It was awesome!”

 

“They merely suffered a few cracked ribs, Roger – that’s all.  Don’t make this all overly dramatic.”

 

“Okay, give me this – you could have smashed their bodies a lot more if you had wanted to.  You also could have flattened that big copier quite a bit more.  Am I right?”

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you that.  Yes, I could have compacted both the machine and the guys some more – but I didn’t.”

 

“And that’s what makes it even more fucking awesome!  Okay, I’ve got it, Dalton.  And wait before you say no - until you’ve heard my entire plan.  I think you’re going to like it.  You, my friend, have got to go to Vegas.  It’s the perfect place to celebrate.”

 

“I don’t know, Roger, I’m not really the Vegas type and it’s not a city that’s fun when you’re solo.”

 

“That’s just it, my big friend.  I’m going to take the week off and go with you.  If there is anyone that can show you a good time in Vegasville, man, it’s your friend, Roger.  We’ll blow that big wad of cash you got on a suite and do everything and everyone we can. It’s a perfect plan, Dalton.  Come on, live a little – what do you have to lose?”

 

“Well, my bonus for one thing.”

 

“We can win the money back at the tables.”

 

“I’m not really a gambler. I usually only go to Vegas to see shows.”

 

“Well, we can do that, too.”

 

“I must admit, it sounds a little tempting.  I haven’t taken a real vacation for about two years.”

 

“I promise to make all the arrangements.”

 

“Okay, Roger, I’m all in. Let’s do it.”

 

“Yesssss!”  

 

Roger was so excited that he accidentally flung his arms up in a victory stance – causing some of his beer to leave the mug and go flying onto the shoulder of the guy behind him. The dude turned out to be a big oaf who was holding court with four women.  He immediately went into rage mode and decided he needed to show off for the women by putting Roger in his place.  He set his drink down on the bar and walked over to my coworker, grabbing the front of his shirt and coat with one hand.  It was clear the dude wanted to intimidate Roger by acting like he was pissed as hell.

 

“You should be a little more careful how you wave your arms, punk.”

 

“I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

 

“Yeah?  I think I’ll accidentally wave my fist into your face, asshole.”

 

It was clear the guy was cocking his arm back to send his clenched hand into Roger’s chin.  I moved into action casually, not wanting to draw attention, but I knew from the heat rising from my chest and across my face that I wanted to teach the guy a lesson – a lesson about being a little more forgiving. I grabbed the biceps of the arm he was going to launch towards my friend.  I loved how my big hand could reach around his puny bulge so easily.  I immediately clenched down with a large amount of my strength.  The jerk cried out in great pain and this made me smile.  I loved how the bones, sinew, and cartilage in his arm moved around to try to absorb the pressure from my powerful grasp.  I knew if I squeezed hard, his biceps would lose and I would easily destroy everything that helped his limb function.  It was a new and exciting awareness that I could – without any problem – smash a guy’s biceps until it popped, even causing bone to shatter. My groin started to pulse with pleasure and my cock stiffened slightly as I contemplated applying more pressure. I, however, choose to lessen my grip. I merely wanted to cause pain, not deform the guy for life.  I lifted my arm up and down a few times, laughing internally as I watched the dufus go up on his toes and then back down – like he was a puppet and I was his master. I wanted him to immediately realize I was now totally in charge of the situation.  I also wanted him to fully comprehend my power.  Because of the pain I easily inflicted, the surprised guy let go of Roger’s jacket and shirt.  

 

“My friend said he was sorry, dude.”

 

“You’re hurting my arm!”

 

“And I’m only using a fraction of my total strength.  Should I squeeze harder?”

 

“NOOOO!”

 

“Then tell my friend, Roger, that you accept his apology and then ask for forgiveness for messing up his shirt and jacket.”

 

“Roger, I’m really sorry man and I completely understand about the accident.  No hard feelings, okay?”

 

The poor guy held by my big paw was sweating up a storm.  I could tell my grip was cutting off the circulation to the lower part of his arm.  I bet the guy could barely feel his fingers by this point.  I so wanted to squeeze the shit of his puny biceps, but deep down I knew better.  I thought about tossing him into a group of men standing a few feet away and watching him squirm through an apology with them.  I also contemplated lifting him by his arm over my head – to emphasize my power – but I decided to avoid too much attention.  There was already a small group of people watching our interaction. I decided to be nice and I let go of the guy’s arm – immediately giving him much needed relief from the pain. The stupid putz, however, had not learned anything.  He immediately turned to me and made the mistake of a lifetime.

 

“I’ll beat the living crap out of you, asshole.”

 

Without any other warning, the jerk threw a wild punch with his fully functioning arm.  His fist met my hard stomach and its forward trajectory was forced to stop completely.  I heard the poor guy gasp out loud and I knew a strong jolt of pain had shot up his arm when he struck my unyielding abdominal muscles.  The guy looked up at me and I was gave him a shocked face that mockingly asked, “What the hell just happened.”  I was really ready to toy with the dweeb now.  He had pissed me off and I wasn’t going to show any mercy.

 

“Give it another try, but use some more juice.  It must be like hitting armor.  Maybe if you hit me harder I might feel something.  I like making your fist stop so abruptly.”

 

The guy stupidly pulled back both of his arms and sent two balled-up hands flying into my stomach this time.   The way my muscles stopped his fists so suddenly was a big turn on.  My cock started moving closer and closer to full attention.  I loved watching his wrist, forearms, and elbows fold in on each other like an accordion because my tight, stone-like abs didn’t give at all.  I suddenly wanted the guy to keep punching me over and over, so I could continue to feel how his little-man pecks bounced off of my hardness so lightly – even though he was using all of his strength.  By this point the guy was really pissing me off – one, because he had obviously not honestly meant his apology to my friend, but mostly because he was stupid enough to think he could hurt me.  This guy needed to be taught a lesson and I knew it needed to involve a lot of pain, so he’d finally get the message.  The shit-for-brains obviously just wasn’t catching on to whom he was dealing with.  I stood there calmly as the guy threw three more double punches; clearly he was a slow learner.  I could see his fists were now red and already bruising – a fact that actually made my cock swell even more – my abs had damaged his hands and I hadn’t done anything more than stand there.  That’s when the little guy went truly bezerk and threw a punch to my face.  He only caught me on the jaw, because I was so much taller than him – clearly about eight inches higher than his five feet nine inches.  I could feel my face turning red with anger.  Roger, who had been watching everything with devout attention finally spoke.

 

“Hey stupid, now you’ve made my friend mad – and you should never make Dalton, here, mad.”

 

I placed one of my big hands on the dumb guy’s shoulder and immediately applied too much pressure. This time the muscle and bones didn’t adjust to my powerful grip fast enough and I heard something snap loudly. I was too angry to care, though. I heard the guy let out a muffled cry and his body tensed up hard.  I wasn’t going to give him time to let out a louder call for help.  I moved so quickly that I’m sure most people just saw a blur in the air as I brought my own fist swiftly up and sent it flying into the guy’s face, landing squarely on his chin and mouth.  I somehow knew just the right amount of force to use – preventing myself from making his entire face cave inward.  I felt a couple of teeth dislodge and I watched the guy instantly go unconscious.  It was awesome to feel his chin shift from the force of my punch.  I knew the guy was going to need a lot of oral surgery to put his jaw back in place, but that would remind him to be a little nicer when people did things by accident.  I brought my fist back to my side quickly, putting it back in place before the guy’s head fell forward an his chin hit his chest.  I held his entire body upright with my big hand still attached to his shoulder.  It looked like we were both still talking, but the guy was in some penitential stance. This was the kind of response I had been looking for from the beginning of our little altercation, but the imbecile just hadn’t caught on.  I spoke to him as if he were still alert and listening.   

 

“Yeah, little buddy, I can tell you are now sorry for what you did – both to Roger and to me.  It’s pretty clear you’ve maybe just had too much to drink.  What’s that? You think you should sit down? Yeah, I think so, too.  That’s a good idea.  My hard-as-hell stomach just wore you out didn’t it?  Here, let me help you.”

 

I could see drops of blood appearing on his shirt, falling down from his busted mouth.  I turned his body with my hand to make it look like he was apologizing to Roger.  I used my forefinger to make his head shake back and forth in what looked like a shameful nod.  I then walked over to a corner of the room – basically carrying the guy’s knocked-out body with me, but making it look like he was just a little too drunk to move on his own.  I grabbed a hat off a rack as I went by and after placing the guy down on a bench and leaning him against the wall I placed the hat over his face so it looked like he had just passed out, also covering the blood at the same time.  It was clear the guy was still breathing and I knew he was going to be out for a long time.  I got the attention of a waiter and told him that my friend was really gone and needed to sleep it off for a while before driving home.  I then asked the staff member to check on the guy at closing time if he wasn’t awake, even though I knew he was going to be out for about twenty-four hours.  It was clear the bar staff would look at his info later on and send him home with a cab or the police.  When I got back to the place where I had been standing before I found Roger chatting with the four women who had been with the attacker earlier.  

 

“…yeah, my friend is big and very strong, but you girls don’t really want all those muscles do you. You’re really looking for a guy a little more your size, right – someone who won’t squash you like a grape if he rolls on top of you while your asleep.  Someone a little more like me, right?  All that size can get in the way when you’re trying to cuddle.”

 

For some reason it made me very happy that Roger was using me to flirt with some women – even to the point where I didn’t care about the things he was saying concerning my size. His words actually turned me on. I also knew deep down, without him even saying it, that my strength and my bigness impressed him very much.  His need for sex governed all of his actions and everything he said.  I realized he would use me in a second if it meant he could get in the sack with some hot chick.  I also liked it when Roger referred to me as his friend.  I had been a loner for most of my life and I liked the feeling of having a comrade . . . or maybe Roger was more like a sidekick.  I was surprised that Roger excused himself from the group of women as soon as he saw me return.

 

“Shit, Dalton, that was incredible.  I can’t believe how you so easily punched the lights out of that bully.  He never had a chance and he certainly had no idea about whom he was challenging.  I saw your face go red and I knew it was over.  You become a fucking fantastic muscle monster if someone makes you mad – and it’s awesome.  I swear I heard some bone in his shoulder crack when you grabbed him and I bet his face will be messed up for months.  Did you hear the cracking sound, too, Dalton?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I did.  I hope he’s okay.  I didn’t mean to hurt him too much, but he really made me angry.”

 

“I’m figuring out that’s when you’re at your best man, that’s when you’re at your fucking best! Listen, I’m so jacked up right now – after seeing you dispense with that guy in just seconds – I say we head to Vegas tonight.  There’s a flight in two hours and I’ve booked two tickets.”

 

“What?  When did you do that?”

 

“When you were dragging Bozo over to the corner.  Listen, we don’t need anything.  Let’s just go.  Man, I can’t wait to unleash you on sin city.  We are going to tear up the town – and I mean that literally.  You are going to help me get into the bed of every fucking gorgeous bombshell in Vegas – well, after you’ve chosen your pick of the litter.  I don’t want to make you angry.  You get first choice.”

 

“Roger, you’re not paying attention when I tell you things.  I’m not interested in the same things as you are.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re looking for something wholesome and next-door cute.  We’ll find that for you, I promise.  Let’s just say fuck it and go.  We can buy anything we need when we get there.  I have a feeling if for some reason we can’t get something we need through regular means – your muscles and strength can get it for us in another way. If we can’t find a hotel room at the best place in the city I’ll just make the guy at reservations piss you off about something and we’ll have the best suite in mere minutes.  Damn, this is going to be the best trip ever.  Stick with me, kid, I’m going to help you finally fully grow into the body you’ve been blessed with.  I think you still don’t know your potential and your good buddy, Roger, is going to open your eyes to all of your abilities.  You and I can rule the world, man, trust me.”

 

His enthusiasm was infectious.  I was known for being a ‘play by the rules’ kind of guy and I even arranged my sock drawer by colors.  This guy’s love for what my power could potentially do was setting off a few warning bells in my head, but the pleasure it was causing in my crotch area and gut was way too overpowering.  I decided logic wasn’t going to rule my life for once.  I wanted to have the carefree attitude of my friend.  I knew, on some level, that I had capabilities most men fantasized about all of their lives.  I had compressed a copier with one hand, I had tossed guys around like they were small stuffed animals, and I had probably busted a bully’s shoulder with just a slight squeeze – and I knew this was just the beginning.  I wanted to tap into all of my potential and I knew Roger was the guy to help me.  Sure, he was selfish and only wanted to use me for a good time and the chance to have sex with as many pretty women as he could.  I knew that, but I also knew that he had this spur-of-the-moment mentality that I lacked and it was perfect for helping me get out of my same-old, same-old ways.  I had turned into a new man over the last year or so, but my mind and heart had not kept up with the growth of my body and my power.  I was still a shy dweeb inside.  Roger was the key to unlocking the beast I wanted to and knew I could be. He had me wrapped around his little finger.

 

“Let’s do it, Roger. I want you to help me unlock my potential . . . and I hope it makes you happy in the process, as well.  I’m on board.  Let’s head out right now.”

 

“Fucking yeah!  Trust me, Dalt-man, I have a feeling your body and strength are going to get me some pleasures I have only dreamed about. There are two things that people most admire in the world – financial power and physical power – and this week we have both.  I have a feeling I might end up having more fun than you!  Let’s go.  My car is at the office and it can stay there.  We’ll head to the airport in yours.  Ready for the time of your life, my big friend?”

 

“I’m ready, Roger.”

londonboy

Supe and Me

“What about Miss Lane?”

 

“What about her, Jimmy?”

 

“Doesn’t she mean something to you?”

 

“Sure, she’s a good friend and all, but she doesn’t like to fly and she isn’t into me showing off my strength.  Not like you are, Jimmy.”

 

“But . . . um . . . are you gay, Mr. Kent?”

 

“Yes.  I get the feeling you like the same things as me - and that makes me happy.  Women seem to be put off by my strength.  How about it, Jimmy?  Do you like it when I show how strong I am?”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“I thought so.  I believe I’ve seen you sprouting something pretty substantial in those tight pants of yours when I’m around.  By this point I don’t even have to be doing something to show off my strength, either – since even the memory of what my body can do seems to excite you more and more.”

 

“I beat off four or five times a day thinking about what you can do with that incredible body of yours, Mr. Kent.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Don’t you think it’s time you start calling me Clark?”

 

“I’d rather call you Superman.”

 

“Well, we can’t allow that in public, but feel free to call me whatever you like when it’s just us two, Jimmy.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Kent. Um, Clark.  I mean, Supe!”

 

“I like the sound of that. So, I can do things to make you a little happy, huh, Jimmy.  You actually dump four to five Superman-induced loads a day?”

 

“Or more!”

 

“I find that pretty hot, Jimmy.  What do you like most?”

 

“I think I like it best when some stupid criminal thinks he can outsmart, outmuscle, or out run you. I’ve seen you get this little smirk on your face that no one else seems to notice.  It’s like you actually want the guy to put up a fight.  I think you enjoy watching people’s pathetic attempts to fight you.”

 

“Aw, you noticed!  I’m so glad.  Those smirks were just for you, Jimmy.  I’ve known about your attraction for me for a while.  I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve hovered outside of your twentieth floor condo a few times and peered through the wall as you’ve beat off looking at videos of me on the web.  But the best is when you jerk that big log off while looking at pictures you took of me doing something.  I like how you get the most excitement from your own record of my feats of strength. Your pictures tend to catch me at the best moments and show off my attributes better than anyone.”

 

“I think that’s caused by my lust, Clark.”

 

“Lots of people lust after me, Jimmy.  I’m not boasting, I’m just saying that you seem to have a knack of capturing something about me that other people miss.  The pictures or videos you’ve taken get me excited, too, and I don’t really understand why.  They’re almost like a work of art.”

 

“Well, I do have the most perfect man as my subject – that makes it almost impossible to get a bad image.” 

 

Clark’s hands tightened into fists and the guy actually levitated off the floor.  It was clear that Superman was trying to control his desire for the young man standing before him.  Jimmy’s open compliments and obvious desire sent intense thrills through the powerful man’s body.  Clark had never felt this way before.  The superhero had led a celibate life for so many years that he had begun to think that no type of sexual urges existed in his body.  But about six months ago, in the office, he had begun to notice the curve of Jimmy’s fine bubbled-ass and had started contemplating using his x-ray vision to look at the man’s nude body.  A week ago, after saving a troubled jet over the south of France, he had inexplicably been drawn to Jimmy’s building and stared through the brick walls – shocked to find out that the kid also lusted after him.  It was good that Superman’s suit was made of such strong material – his hardening cock could have busted through almost anything else as he watched Jimmy Olsen pump out an ample load of cum from a surprising large tool as he looked at pictures he had taken of the superhero.  Clark basically started stalking the other guy after that night and everything had come to a dramatic climax tonight as they both stayed late at work.  

 

“I saw you outside my window the other night.  It was when I got off the bed to clean myself off and I saw your reflection briefly in the mirror.  I think you’ll remember since it’s the night I shot a major load just standing in the middle of the room – without even touching myself.”

 

“That was really hot.”

 

“Yeah, but shooting that hard after two previous intense loads hurt a lot.  I couldn’t help it, though, since that’s when I knew you were attracted to me, too.”

 

“Attraction seems too weak a word, Jimmy.”

 

“I feel the same way.”

 

Both men had pulsing hard-ons so strong that it was making one of them light –headed and the other had a sudden urge to rip apart a mountain.  Clark took a step toward the younger man – without even thinking about what he was doing – his urges just took over his body.  The powerful man willed himself to stop.  His desire was too strong – too overwhelming.  He had spent all of his life curtailing any and all emotions, but this was just too difficult to resist.  Something told him he should leave – even if it meant flying through the wall into the night and getting as far away from Jimmy Olsen as he could, but another part begged him to stay.  He chose the latter, but forced his super strength to overpower any random acts of passion.  Jimmy, on the other hand, felt like he might faint at any moment.  He was two feet away from Superman and could feel such incredible heat radiating from the guy’s powerful body he actually worried the superhero was burning him with his heat vision.  Jimmy reached out and braced his weakened body against the desk near him.

 

“You make me feel more powerful than I have ever felt in my entire life, Jimmy.”

 

“And you make me go weak in the knees quicker than anything, Clark.”

 

“Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

 

“Or maybe on Krypton.”

 

“Where do we go from here?”

 

“You’re the superhero – shouldn’t you have an answer!”

 

“This is all new territory for me, Jimmy.”

 

“Well . . . um . . . maybe we should . . . uh . . . start with dinner.  Yes, let’s go get something to eat.”

 

“Great idea.”

 

Superman stepped to the young man and lifted the guy’s body into his arms.  Jimmy let out a small squeal as his feet were easily removed from the floor and he found himself being held by the man of his dreams.  He somehow refrained from ejaculating as soon as he felt Clark’s strong arms holding his body so far up in the air. The powerful man started walking towards one of the windows.

 

“Um . . . Clark . . . I think it would be best for me . . . if we  . . . um . . . walked to the restaurant.”

 

“Oh . . . of course. Sorry about that, Jimmy.”

 

The Man of Steel actually turned red as he looked down at the smaller man in his arms.  He then just stood there – not sure what he should do next.  It was one of the most awkward moments of his entire life.  He felt confused and, actually, defenseless – a first for him. Both men just stared at each other – drinking in the beauty they beheld in each other’s eyes.  Jimmy finally broke the sexually charged tension of the moment.

 

“Um . . . you can put me down now, Clark.  I’m fine to walk.”

 

“Sure . . . sure thing. I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s no problem.  I think we’re both a little overwhelmed by all of this.  Let’s just . . . um . . . refrain from any bodily contact for a little while.  I think that would help.”

 

“I think that’s a good idea, Jimmy.”

 

Superman put the younger man back down on the floor and then took a couple of steps away.  The bigger man reached down to his crotch and adjusted himself – a move that caught him off guard since it was so new.  Jimmy sensed that, since it was such a brazen and out of character move for his co-worker, Clark was embarrassed by what he just did.  To make the superhero feel a little better, Jimmy reached down and moved his own hefty cock to a more comfortable position.  Clark’s eyes were immediately drawn to the other man’s large package.

 

“You’re not using your x-ray vision right now are you?”

 

“No . . . no!  I promise Jimmy.  It’s just . . . um . . . well, have you always been so big down there?”

 

“Yes.  My mother used to jokingly say she slept with a horse to conceive me.  I actually believed her until I got a glimpse of my dad’s junk at about age ten.  He was pretty big, too, but I’m proud to say I surpassed him in my early teens.  I hope you approve, Clark.  I can’t tell if there’s fear in your face or not.”

 

“That’s not fear Jimmy, it’s desire.  I really don’t fear anything.”

 

“So true, I kind of forgot that important point.”

 

There was another moment of silence and a palpable connection between the two men that seemed like something more than desire – it was as if each guy had a basic need that could only be met by the other.  It was time for Jimmy’s fists to ball up because of the intense attraction.  His body didn’t levitate, but his cock did twitch uncontrollably.  The younger man wanted to start ripping clothes off of the muscular superhero and feel his own weak body pressed up against the man that had done such amazing things.  Jimmy also wanted to force his pounding hard cock into the beautiful muscled ass of Clark Kent, but he knew that would have to wait.  It was best to take all of this very slow.  Jimmy grabbed his keys off the desk, smiled at his coworker and led the way.  Clark was even more confused by this point – his lust for the younger man had reached a feverish level.  The superhero had never been this drawn to anything – and certainly never this excited. The elevator ride down to the lobby was excruciating.  Each man moved to his own corner in the back of the intimate space.  There seemed to be a shared fear that being too close to each other might cause them to erupt into uncontrollable actions.  This fear was greater in the larger man – mainly because it was so new.  Jimmy turned to his dream man as son as they were outside.

 

“Where would you like to eat?”

 

“I don’t really care, Jimmy.”

 

“Well, are you hungry for a specific type of food?”

 

“I could get us Italian?”

 

“You mean at that hole-in-the-wall down the street?”

 

“No, I could fly to Italy and get us something authentic.  It would only take a few minutes.  With me delivering, it’s guaranteed to always be on time.”

 

This caused Jimmy’s mouth to drop open wide.  He hadn’t thought about the fact that Clark could get to Rome and back before food even got slightly cold.  It hit him then that if the food did get a little tepid all the big man had to do was use his vision to warm it up a little.  Going out with Clark Kent was going to take some getting used to. Jimmy decided it was important that this first time be as normal as possible - especially when you are with Superman.

 

“Um, I think we should just keep this first date as grounded as possible.  I don’t think I’m ready for a progressive meal that involves multiple continents – even though that sounds incredible.”

 

“This is a date?”

 

“Um . . . I hope so. Is that okay, Clark?”

 

“Sure.  It’s just that I’ve never been on a date before.”

 

“No way!  That’s a little hard for me to believe.  You could go out with anyone in the world – even force a person to go if for some reason they didn’t want to.  Why haven’t you dated?”

 

“I’ve never been attracted to anyone.”

 

They were now standing on a busy street corner and the smaller man just stopped to stare at the other guy – his face in total bafflement.  How could Clark Kent have reached this age and never have been attracted to someone.  It didn’t seem possible.  And why in the hell had Jimmy been lucky enough to be the first?  The smaller man decided not to even think about it – he wanted to enjoy this moment as much as possible, especially if it never came again.

 

“How about Chinese, Clark?”

 

“I’ll be back in a flash.”

 

“No!  No, I meant this place right here.”

 

“Oh . . . of course. This is fine.”

 

A few minutes later they had ordered and Jimmy was gulping down a beer as Clark sipped his water. The young photographer took a few minutes to check out the guy that had been the object of his desire for so long. The face was even more handsome than Jimmy remembered – even though he had it memorized from days at the office, watching online videos over and over, and from masturbatory sessions while looking at photos.  It was hard to believe that up until three hours ago he had never recognized the similarities in Clark Kent and Superman.  Now, it was difficult to look at the man in glasses across the table and not see who he really was.  Jimmy knew that people’s perceptions were really the reality we believe, but he had just never figured the bumbling big man at the office could actually be a superhero. Now, though, the two seemed as inseparable as they really were.  Clark was busy, himself, trying to figure out what he should be doing on his first date. He desperately wanted to impress the younger man – to please him.  It was a new feeling – one that brought excitement and confusion.  His nervousness caused him to say things he normally wouldn’t – to be a little more aggressive than usual.

 

“Why does my strength turn you on so much, Jimmy?”

 

“Well okay then, no beating around the bush tonight, huh Clark?  I don’t know.  Doesn’t it turn you on when you do something amazing like lift a building or save a distressed plane?
 

“No, not really.”

 

“Well what does it make you feel?”

 

“I feel good about helping people.  It’s what I should do – so, I guess it’s kind of like my obligation.  I . . . um . . . do get excited sometimes . . . if I know you are watching.  Turning you on seems to please me a lot.”

 

Jimmy swallowed a mouthful of beer loudly and almost started to choke on the liquid.  Clark’s honest revelation thrilled the young man beyond belief.  He pinched himself under the table to make sure he was awake and all of this wasn’t a dream.  This was everything he had ever wanted and he still couldn’t allow himself to believe that it was truly happening.  He decided to be as open and honest as his date.

 

“Why do you get excited when I get turned on, Clark?”

 

“I don’t know.  It started about six months ago.  I had a dream about you one night and got aroused. Since I don’t really sleep it was more like a daydream.  It was a new feeling for me.  I hadn’t ever experienced what you call a hard-on before, but suddenly my penis was sticking straight out – having ripped through my clothes.  I was not wearing my costume at the time.  Yes, you are the reason that one of my suits had to be thrown away – the entire crotch area was destroyed.”

 

“What was the dream about?”

 

“We were having anal intercourse.”

 

This time Jimmy did choke on his beer as he was swallowing.  Clark’s answer had caught him totally off guard.  The jaded younger man looked at his date to see if he was teasing him or making a joke, but Clark’s face made it clear that his answer had been truthful.  Jimmy took a sip of water to clear his throat and then he returned his gaze to the beautiful man across the table.

 

“It’s going to take me a while to get used to honest answers, Clark.  I’m afraid I’m not used to guys being so up front and truthful.”

 

“Why not, Jimmy?”

 

“Well, because most men aren’t like you, Clark.  Their moral compass isn’t as dependable or consistent.  I just might need to watch what I ask you – especially on the first few dates.  So tell me more about this dream.”

 

“It was the first time I have ever wanted someone sexually.  The desires in my body were new and I liked them very much.”

 

“Don’t we all.”

 

“I, however, did not know that to do with my hard penis.  I flew to your place again and watched you sleep.  This caused my need for ejaculation to grow even more intense. When you rolled over and the sheets moved away from your naked body I knew I was about to have an orgasm – my first one.  I flew into the sky quickly and my body started jerking wildly.  I quickly turned my back towards the earth in order to send my semen into space.  The ejaculation was so intense that I destroyed a star about four light years away.”

 

“Destroyed?”

 

“My sperm blew it apart.”

 

“Okay then, I should make a mental note of that.  It’s a good thing for me to remember – you know for later.”

 

“I have tried to ignore the feelings and to force them away, but even with all of my strength I cannot get you out of my head, Jimmy Olsen.  I do not understand what is happening.”

 

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got what we’d call a school-girl crush.  I have the same feelings for you.”

 

“This does not seem like just a crush, Jimmy.  I think it is what might be described as a ‘life force.’  Something happens to me when I am around you.  It’s like I’m a battery and you are the charging station. I feel more alive and stronger than ever when I am with you.  The feeling grows more intense the longer we are together.  I am already invincible, but you make me feel even more powerful than that.   I can’t explain it.”

 

“I feel the same way, Clark. I’m not invincible, but you make me feel more secure and excited than I’ve ever felt before.  It’s a feeling that seems other-worldly.”

 

“Exactly, Jimmy.”

 

There was another intense moment of electrifying silence.  Neither man knew where to go from there.  The food was delivered and Jimmy noticed that Clark simply moved the stuff around his plate – clearly not needing to eat.  Jimmy was pretty hungry and still very nervous so he scarfed down a few platefuls before he even realized what he was doing.  Clark stared at him intently during the entire meal and this made the younger man a little self-conscious.  

 

“What?  You keep staring at me like I have food stuck in my teeth, Clark.”

 

“No, that’s not it, Jimmy. I’m just so happy to finally be with you – to be talking with you this way – to be sharing everything with you. Would you please allow me one gift after our meal?”

 

“Sure.  What did you have in mind?”

 

“Let me take you somewhere?”

 

“Okay, where did you want to go?’

 

“No, let me take you someplace you really want to go.”

 

“For some reason, I don’t think you’re talking about some bar or nightclub I’d like to try out for the first time, are you Clark?”

 

“You are correct. Grant me this one wish, Jimmy.  I’d like to make our first date very memorable.”

 

“It’s already pretty memorable, Clark, but I can see that it would mean a lot to you.  Okay, we can go somewhere – but now I have to figure out where I’d like to go.  It’s weird how hard it is to decide when the options are limitless.  It’s also a huge turn on.”

 

“I am very glad of that, Jimmy.”

 

“Let’s see.  I’ve always fantasized what it would feel like to sit on top of the Golden Gate Bridge.  It would also be cool to be at the top of one of the pyramids in Egypt. I’ve never been to the top of the Eiffel Tower – well, I’ve never even been to France.  It would be cool to stand at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem or stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon.  All of these sound great.  It’s really hard for me to choose.”

 

“We could do all of them if you like.”

 

“Let’s not blow our entire wad on the first date, Clark.  I want to have some other things to look forward to.  If I were to be really honest with you, though…”

 

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

 

“Exactly.  It’s just a figure of speech, sorry Clark.  If you really want to know what I’d like to do tonight I’d have to say that I’d love to see you in action – as Superman.  It would thrill me a lot to see you take on some criminals somewhere.  That’s what I’d really like to see.”

 

“Then that’s settled. Let me listen for a few seconds, Jimmy.”

 

Clark’s face changed and the younger man knew his table mate was actually attuning his ear to the surrounding city – or maybe even the surrounding country – to see if he could find some potential trouble he could correct.  A big smile came across the superhero’s face and Jimmy knew he had landed on some kind of goldmine from his eavesdropping.  This made Jimmy’s cock become harder than it already was – something that caused a little pain.

londonboy

Daddy-ness

It took most of my strength not to grab the guy and squeeze him so hard I’d probably had broken something. I just had this intense desire to hug him – to show him how I felt about him.  He was pinching my hard nipples through the heavy shirt I was wearing and mumbling to himself quietly.  I caught snippets of what he was saying – so huge, hard as hell, gonna piss on myself - and stuff like that.  I could tell he was in some sort of muscle worship fantasy world and he did not want to be disturbed.  That was fine with me; because not only were my nips getting pleasured roughly, I was also getting to take a closer look at the guy.  It was very dark in the back room of “The Pit,” my favorite bar, but I could still see him clearly.  I liked to come here because I fit in – the place was full of huge older men looking for young pups they could take care of.  I was the definition of a muscle daddy.  At ‘The Pit’ I was also known as the king of muscle daddies, because no one came close to matching my daddiness.  I loved smaller guys that were into worshipping.  I also loved a young buck that needed a wisdom figure to lead him. I didn’t care if people judged me or not, but it was good to be in a place where other guys got off on the same things I did.  I had become good friends with many of the other huge older men that frequented the place. We even shared our pups, sometimes – or warned each other about dudes that weren’t worth the fuss.  

 

The guy chatting with himself in front of me was probably twenty-five – more than half my age.  He was about two hundred pounds lighter and possibly eight to ten inches shorter, too.  I was in daddy heaven – taking in how small he was.  He fit the bill physically and I was hoping he’d have the internal affinities to make him a proper pup.  He was a little more built than I liked ‘em, but that was fine.  He had a wiry body that looked beautifully knotted in all the right places.  It was a gymnast’s build and that made me hope he was very flexible.  He kept his hair short and neatly trimmed – something that I insisted my pups do, so he was already doing well and we hadn’t even left the gate.  He dressed the part, too – a Ralph Lauren button down, some khakis, and loafers with no socks.  I was such a sucker for little prep boys.  In college I had plowed my way through the Sigma Epsilon frat house and I still had a thing for ‘gators.’  That was a nickname I created because of my dick-hardening lust for all things Izod. If a dude wore bright red pants and a pink shirt I could cum on the spot.  I was just into little prepsters and I didn’t apologize for it.  

 

Every now and then the little guy would squeeze my huge nubs just right and an intense thrill would shoot through my entire body.  This is what made me want to crush the dude in my arms – not out of meanness, but because I wanted him so much.  My big chest was like an avalanche of muscle spread out thickly wide before the guy.  He’d stop his nipple play every now and then to cup his hand under one of my enormous pecs jutting behind the material of the shirt and he’d try to push up but the thing was too heavy and too stubbornly hard to move.  This would make the guy squeal a little and then his mumbling would intensify.  I had a feeling the kid could have played with my shelf all night long, but I had other plans.  I reached down, grabbed him by his ass, and lifted his body upward. His legs wrapped around my waist instantly – a move I figured he had dreamed about all of his life.  I knew I was showing off and that people in the bar were probably thinking I was acting crude, but I didn’t care.  I was a big muscle daddy and making some pup almost cream in his pants because I could pick him up so easily was what I was supposed to do. I distinctly heard the dude let out an “oh god yes” as I moved him toward a stool at the bar.  People parted as we moved through the crowd – some clearly jealous of my little friend.  They wanted to be carried, too.  I put the prepster down on the stool and then leaned his back against the bar behind him. He kept his legs locked around my waist – his feet hooked together just above my bulbous butt.  His hands were still latched onto my man plugs and he was twisting even harder.  I pressed my growing hardness into his balls and ass – kind of gently shoving his back against the wood of the bar.  I wasn’t being abusive – it was just a natural reaction to his teasing grip on my nipples. 

 

While I had carried him the short distance I had marveled at how huge my hands felt holding his body. He was a decent sized guy, but compared to me he’d be considered pretty small.  Or maybe I’d just be thought of as freakishly big.  Either way, I was wild about how my thick long fingers could hold his tight ass even in one hand if I had wanted to.  A thought shot through my mind – I wondered if I would have been able to palm the dude’s butt and hold him upside down.  That would have been impressive.  The fella twisted my nips perfectly and this caused me to slam my giant meat into his ass, which – in turn – slammed his body against the bar. I could tell he loved it, but it did cause him some pain.

 

“Sorry man, but if you don’t let go of my nipples soon I’m not going to be responsible for any of the damage I cause to your body or this bar,” I threatened.

 

He instantly lessened his grip on my protruding nubs – mainly from fear – but he also smiled broadly, clearly proud of the fact that he could bring me to a point of no control. He quickly spread his palms out on my chest and started massaging the mounds of muscle – mesmerized at how huge my upper body was.  While he tried to see how many of his hands it could take to cover my entire pec shelf I, again, got a chance to look at the little guy.  I swear if he told me his name was Biff later on I was going to gush out such a big load that he might need a life jacket.  He was such the little preppy-meister.  Dark wavy hair that looked like it was trimmed every week, green eyes the color of lagoons I’d swam in while visiting Hawaii, and an air about him that made it clear he was even more my type than previously thought.  

 

Even though I was a bona fide, card-carrying, little-pup-dominating muscle daddy that didn’t mean I was a babysitter.  If a dude needed me to be his everything – his source of income, his self-esteem booster, and even his ass-wiper – then he was usually only good for some throw-down time in bed for one night.  Being somebody’s daddy does not mean I think for them – it only means I try to influence what they think.  It’s actually more stimulating for the older, wiser alpha if his pup is someone that questions things, argues sometimes, and, yes, even challenges his elders.  I did not need a wimpy dude that sat on the sofa all day eating Bonbons.  No, I needed someone that was successful and confident, himself.  That made being a daddy so much more interesting – more fun – and exactly what I wanted.  If a well-educated, well-motivated guy submitted himself to a daddy it was the ultimate compliment.  A guy that is energetic and ‘in charge’ in other parts of his life, but wants to come home and let someone else be the lead is so much more appealing than someone who doesn’t care.  I did not want to get my hopes up, but signs pointed to the probability that this guy was a muscle daddy’s dream come true.  He was drinking scotch that cost four times the amount of what I usually ordered and he was wearing a Movado watch – at what people would call a biker bar, no less. I decided it was time to find out a little more about this potential pup.

 

“What do you do?” I asked, loudly – to draw him out of his lustful trance of my chest.  

 

“Big mature men,” he replied, looking me in the eyes.

 

I saw confidence in those pools of green and it made me thrust my crotch against his ass hard. He moaned a little – again loving the fact that he could make me react that way.  I made a face – trying really hard to show my disapproval even though his answer had thrilled me.  Well, the tone of his answer had thrilled me the most.  

 

“Oh, you mean for work,” he said – clearly getting the fact that I was teasingly not pleased.  He took an apologetic tone and added, “I own an internet company.”

 

He then went on to name the company and it was one I recognized.  I also knew the company had recently gone public.  I further knew it was reported that the owner had become a billionaire.  He recognized in my eyes the fact that I knew all of this.  He also quickly gathered that it satisfied me in some way.  He was like a sprinter that had just made it over the first hurdle.  I watched a specific shift in the man’s attitude at that moment and realized it matched the new paradigm I was moving into, as well.  I was moving, for him, beyond that ‘this is just a big hot older man I’ll let fuck me for one night’ starting point.  We were beginning a little muscle minuet that was certainly going to last for a while.  He needed to test the waters, too.

 

“What do you do?” he asked.

 

“Little preppy men with tight asses,” I replied.

 

He tried to make a disapproving face at my answer, but it was kind of hard to hide how much what I said thrilled him.  This time, he actually shoved his butt into my still-hardening cock and we both let out soft moans.  He smiled at me, but made it clear he was going to wait until I gave an honest answer.

 

“I own a construction company and have multiple properties around town,” I answered and loved how this answer thrilled him.  It was clear that he, like me, had always hoped to find a muscle daddy that didn’t need supporting.  I went on to blow his mind by telling him the name of the company and a few of the places I owned.  I didn’t mention all of them because I didn’t want him to be intimidated.  

 

“So, the big daddy has some brains, too, I see,” he said – and I could immediately sense it was a huge compliment.

 

“And I see the little pup doesn’t need someone to take care of him,” I said, choosing my words carefully because I needed him to answer in a specific way.

 

“That, my big friend, depends on what you mean by ‘take care of.’  Do I need someone to put food on my table?  No.  Do I need someone to take me to the opera?  No.  I do, however, need someone to put me in my proper place and keep me there,” he answered – and the seriousness behind what he was saying was quite clear.

 

My cock was now fully hard – mainly because I was suddenly realizing that this creature in front of me, this small man I could easily toss around physically, was teetering near my ideal mate.  I knew there were still hurdles to jump over – probably for me, as well – but I was beginning to sense that we understood each other on a level that was imperceptible to other people.  I pulled my big arms forward – causing the dude to come off the stool.  He was, again, held in my big hands – crotch against crotch and his face a half a foot below mine.  I looked down into his eyes and felt an electric charge that seemed both familiar and totally new at the same time.  I could see in his expression that he felt the same way, too.

 

“I don’t need a kid, if that’s what you mean.  Let someone else change your diapers.  I do however need a . . .” I paused to collect my thoughts and then continued, “I do however need a guy that I can tame, mentor, spar with, and dominate.”

 

PART TWO

 

The last word actually made his cock twitch hard.  I could feel it next to mine.  His entire body seemed to vibrate, as well, as if in unison with his stiff meat.  I could have sworn the guy whispered the word ‘finally’ but it could have just been my own hopeful imagination.  I could feel his ass clamping tightly together, as well.  I didn’t know exactly what was causing his reaction, but I knew I liked it.  Again, it took almost all of my strength not to squeeze the dude so hard that something broke.  It was like I wanted his body to melt into mine.  I had a need to be so close to him that a mere hug wouldn’t and couldn’t be enough to satisfy.  Instead, my big paws squeezed his hard ass tightly causing the dude to wince a little, but he also gurgled something about me being ‘so big and strong.’ I knew it was best to distract myself from my intense desires of the moment, so I went back to asking questions.

 

“What’s you name, kid,” I said, smiling at his face.

 

“Bradley,” he replied.

 

It wasn’t Biff, but it was close.  He definitely looked like a Bradley and I bet he was a ‘the second’ or better yet ‘the third.’  That would make things even more complete.  Hearing his name made me want to flex my guns, so I tensed my arms as I held his body at my waist.  His eyes shot exactly where I hoped they would when my biceps swelled thicker.  He mouthed some words but it wasn’t hard to see they were ‘fuck yeah.’  This high-powered businessman, this preppy ‘I come from old money’ dude clearly got off on things more powerful than him.  I bet he owned a fast car.  I bet he employed a trainer that looked like a trainer should – huge, hot, and virile. I bet he loved to skydive.  The guy probably loved being near things that reminded him of his own mortality – his limits.  I was pretty sure he loved anything that could subdue him.  That’s why my arms easily caught and kept all of his attention.  He could feel the power of my guns, since they were easily holding him in the air, but looking at their power – taking in their hugeness and beauty along with knowing what they could do – that’s what turned him on even more.  It was like he was some kind of tactile learner, who needed to see and experience things to believe them.  But he definitely loved it when things looked powerful.  I could again feel his cock twitching for joy as he gazed at my tensed arms.  

 

There’s something special that happens to a mature muscle man when he figures out some young thing is attracted to his daddy strength and size.  It’s hard to explain, but there’s a switch that goes on inside the big man’s head and he instantly intuits what will make the other guy happy.  I’m pretty sure it comes with age and not just from being big.  I’ve seen some big men in my life that had no idea how to please little fellas.  But give a muscleman some years and a whole lot of experience and the wisdom flows as easily as a posing routine.  My dick registered the little pup’s reaction to my tensed arms way before my brain did.  It’s like the synapses from what my hands were feeling and all that my eyes were witnessing decided to go south first, alerting my cock to potential pleasure before it did the same for my brain.  The pup’s expression as he gaped upon my massive biceps signified another hurdle had been leapt over in this little muscle tango he and I were doing. I was passing some test, moving to the next round, and being moved to the front of the class in this guy’s opinion – and that was just as important as him getting to new levels in my estimation. In order for a young small buck to want to be controlled, subdued, or dominated he needs to trust his master completely.  He’s got to want his master completely.  I learned a long time ago there are guys out there that say they love big men, but I quickly realized they knew nothing about true muscle worship.  Let me give all my big muscled brothers a little word of advice – if you come across small dudes who think that worshipping your big bod is only about them touching or you flexing please turn around and run. For one thing, the verbal ascent to worship needs to be intense and should almost equal the final explosion. A true worshipper is not afraid to talk about your huge muscles or their thirst for said mounds of beef.  A sure sign of a lousy worshipper is a silent worshipper.  

 

Another way of weeding out unsuccessful worshippers is listening close to their terminology.  If a small dude can only say ‘I love your fucking huge arms’ and ‘Wow, what a giant chest,’ it’s more than likely you have only a muscle whore on your hands.  Don’t get me wrong – there’s a place for muscle whores in every big man’s life, but they aren’t meant to be long term.  They’re good when you want to just get a superficial boost to your ego. These guys are what I call the lightweights.  They usually shoot their loads before you even get fully charged – mainly because they just love bulges – and not what has gone into making those bulges.  These shallow dudes will squirt all over the place as soon as you flex a little or let them touch your body.  Rarely are they concerned about you getting off and the thought of you being a little rough makes them go nelly screaming out of your apartment.  Like I said before, there’s a place for such guys in the world – but I’ve grown wise in my old age and I’ve learned to look for something much more substantial – something a lot deeper.  

 

A true muscle daddy worshipper appreciates your wisdom as much as he appreciates your size.  He’s into your bulges – I guarantee that – but he’s just as excited about seeing how those muscles influence your daddy psyche, as well.  The guys that turn out to be keepers need their big man to be three-dimensional.  A good little pup’s says about his muscle daddy, “He, of course, needs to have the body from hell, but he better have the attitude from hell, too.”  I’m not talking about being some ax murderer or psychopath – I mean the muscled dude has to have a cockiness that enables him to squeeze his pup’s neck hard for a greeting or can make flirts back away from his pup with just a low growl or an intense stare.  If a young stud is a real worshipper he’ll be looking for the daddies that have the third aspect of a complete package – the big man has to have experience.  This is why most young men can’t reach true muscle daddy-dom.  They don’t have the years that make them fantastic kissers, charming beyond your wildest dreams, pro sexual athletes, and – most importantly – men with a sixth sense about exactly what will make their pup happy.  

 

It’s, of course, rare that such specific and powerfully-charge individuals can find each other, but it does happen.  I knew many couples that were living in daddy-pup bliss and had been for years. Unfortunately, that special prize had eluded me for all of my life.  I had been with some fantastic guys – but most of them had merely turned out to be muscle whores.  They were into my hard beef, but could not have cared less about my thoughts, my wisdom, or my need to truly dominate a guy.  Let’s stop and get one thing straight – the word dominate has gotten a bad rap in recent years.  Everyone views it as something negative or demeaning.  I think the great work in the area of spousal abuse had really brought the wrong kind of attention to the type of domination I’m referring to.  In the muscle daddy world – to dominate means there first had to be an invitation.  It’s like the big man is standing on the side of the ballroom and he only enters the dance if some young pup walks up to him and asks.  That’s why most of my evenings with so-called muscle worshippers merely ended in them getting off on my massiveness.  That’s all they wanted.  But it can be so much more – it can be so much more empowering to be dominated. It’s when that special someone trusts you so completely and needs you so completely that they actually request you to become something special for them – something more powerful.  That’s when the true magic happens.  That’s when lives change.  And what’s crazy – what you might not fully understand – is that the dominator is subdued, as well.  He becomes a slave to his pup.  There’s no way for you to fully understand until it happens to you, but let’s just say that you give up all rational thought when you become somebody’s full fledge muscle daddy.  You become their protector, their trainer, their disciplinarian, and so much more – but you also become tied to them in a way that all the fucking strength in your body could not undo no matter how hard you try.  You become theirs as much as they become yours.

 

So, you can see how thrilling it could be to pass certain hurdles in this dance the young pup and I were doing.  I could feel my own heart swelling with hope – with anticipation over what the next few hours could bring.  I had been on the precipice many times before – only to be a solo jumper, the would-be pup preferring the safety of the ledge instead of joyously falling into the abyss of true muscle worship.  My fantasies of what might be had taken me to some other place and the pup had finally torn his eyes away from my bulging arms to notice (another sign of a true worshipper – caring about what was happening with the daddy).  He wanted to bring me back into the glorious here and now.

 

“And what’s your name, sir?” he asked, clearly knowing full well what the word at the end of his sentence would do to me.  

 

To a muscle daddy – a good one – hearing the word ‘sir’ sends a jolt to his balls that equals the electricity it takes to light up a small town.  My mother always made me use the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to show that I was raised right and I think it is a very similar situation when pup’s say ‘sir.’  This dude was sending me a message with a simple three-letter word.  He wanted me to know that he was raised right when it came to respect and adoration of elders.  He also wanted me to know that he had some basic knowledge in the world of submission.  Since gay men were now allowed to live such open lives the new ‘in the closet’ was when it came to fetishes.  Gay men today had learned to talk in code to make clear what they were into – or what they weren’t into.  The word ‘sir’ was definitely part of the muscle daddy worshipping scene – and it was used frequently to help others know if they could proceed with their flirting or not.  The pup was clearly inviting me to move to the next level of our ever-evolving understanding of each other.  We were peeling back the layers of the onion until we got to the core – the place where we both would be free to assume the roles we both desperately wanted.  Each of us, however, knew to take it slowly. One false step could ruin the entire dance and we were definitely far too engaged in the glorious ball to let that foolishly happen.

 

“People call me Butch,” I replied.

 

“Of course they do,” he said seriously.  “I’m glad to know your name, but I think I’ll just call you ‘sir’ if that’s okay with you.”

 

There was that word again. My cock thumped against his hard-on. He felt it – I could tell by the smile that sprang to his face.  My body had betrayed me.  It gave away in a clear and precise way what that word did to me.  I could see that he was overjoyed to recognize that fact.  I got the feeling my little pup was checking off some list in his head as he got to know me better in the same way I was doing it for him.  This seemed to solidify our connection even more.  He, of course wasn’t going to be a total gentleman and let my body’s involuntary jolt of pleasure go without being alluded to.

 

“You deserve the respect, sir,” he said, emphasizing the last word on purpose – and smiling even more when my cock again throbbed noticeably.

 

“I know I do,” I shot back – my cock was uncontrollably reacting to this guy’s tone of respect, but that didn’t mean he was in charge.  Cockiness was one of the three supports of being a muscle daddy and I could call on that reservoir of confidence whenever I wanted.  I truly knew how incredible I was – and not only did it make me sure of myself, it also helped me to shower that same feeling on others. “I get the feeling you can be the perfect respectful pup.”

 

I had anticipated his lust for that certain word correctly.  His entire body shook with revealing pleasure – a response similar to mine.  We both realized another hurdle had been easily sailed over.  I loved the fact that he had to close his eyes – until the joyous jolt of worshipper euphoria passed.  I wondered briefly if he was also saying a silent prayer to the muscle gods in hopes the beefy older dude holding him might be the real deal.  I added my own plea to Mount Olympus or wherever for the same thing. I was beginning to worry that I was moving beyond a point of return.  I was so hopeful about this pup I was beginning to worry that I might be projecting a lot of his reactions.  I tried to be reasonable and realistic, but it was hard when all the signs pointed to your desired end. 

 

 

Part Three

 

A true pup knows he is never a slave.  He can walk away from the relationship at any time.  That’s part of the intense thrill between a daddy and his young mate.  If the big dude is a true muscle daddy then he’s like this huge pup-magnet that pulls on the smaller dude with such a force that the smaller dude never even contemplates leaving his master’s side. It’s the most natural and comfortable relationship ever created – pup needing security and daddy needing adoration. The more your love grows for an admiring young thing the more you want to protect him, mentor him, and even grow him. Yeah, part of being a good muscle daddy is knowing that you should always be working to create your replacement. Big guys are a dime a dozen but true muscle gods – the kind that can truly breed others are very rare.  Of course, it takes two to tango.  You have to have the perfect pup to train.  If you get a good one then half your work is already done.  I was lucky – being a pup builder was now in my DNA.  I had been formed by one of the best.  The day he had set me free to go and find my own little men had been one of the hardest in my life, but I had realized how important it was.  I was carrying on a tradition – one that had been around since the beginning of time.  I needed to go plow my DNA into some little worshipper that, in turn, would someday grow big enough and strong enough to train other pups into becoming muscle daddies.  It was the evolution of huge men.      

 

“Butch, sir, I’m looking for something,” the pup said, pulling me back into the moment.  “Well, actually I’m looking for someone.  But not just anyone.  I’m looking for someone powerful, because I’m looking to be tamed and it’s going to take someone very, very strong to accomplish that.”

 

More beautiful words had never been spoken.  What Bradley was basically doing was giving me permission to be myself – completely. He was taking a chance and letting me know that he wanted to be dominated.  Again, he was speaking in code – testing the water to see if I might be exactly what he was looking for.  A pretty muscle boy would simply just flex and say, “I’ve got the body you need.” That’s not what Bradley wanted, though. He could probably get any handsome big man he’d ever laid eyes on.  That was a simple catch for a guy like him.  But to find a guy that saw the situation in its totality was very hard. Bradley wanted a guy that had the muscles, the inner strength, the patience, the attitude, the intelligence, the wisdom, and all that comes with being a true daddy.  It wasn’t about getting laid – it was about being able to submit yourself completely to another man.  I also had a feeling Bradley was powerful as shit in the business world. I had a feeling he had people jumping at his every word all the time.  He was looking for someone that would make him jump.  He was looking for a guy that would laugh at him if he uttered a command. I had a feeling I was Bradley’s man, but I knew there were some more tests before we found out if we were “made” for each other.  I thought it was important, however, that I answer his latest question in a way that he’d never forget.  I placed the little guy back down on the barstool.  I then leaned down and flexed my big gun right beside his head.  I then placed my face against his – pushing his cheek, ear, and head into my hard bulging biceps.  My mouth was next to his ear.  The guy moaned slightly from the feeling of being surrounded by muscle and a scruffy beard.       

 

“I can be as powerful as you want me to be . . . and then some,” I whispered softly, flexing my arm even harder to emphasize my point.  

 

The dude sucked in air and I’m sure he got kind of dizzy.  His body was in reaction overload.  I could hear him whispering as he counted to ten over and over – clearly trying to prevent himself from spewing.  I had answered him in almost the exact way of his fantasies – I’m sure.  I could tell his brain was battling between thinking I was too good to be true and the fact that he wanted to submit to me completely right then and there.  Bradley was a sharp businessman, though.  I could tell. He knew not to blow his wad – forgive the pun – on an unproven entity, but everything in his body was confirming I was a muscle daddy beyond compare.  I decided to drive home my point.

 

“Need something broken, Bradley?  I can break it for you,” I said.  “Need someone punished?  I can punish ‘em and I can be as brutal as you want me to be.  Need to be pounded dude?  I’m the best pounder you’ll ever meet.  Need protection?  Nothing’s ever going to get through me.  Need something big to hold onto?  Well, I think you’ve already realized that’s not a problem, either.” 

 

“Sir, if you don’t be quiet – even just for a minute – I’m going to pass out,” he said putting a hand to my mouth.  

 

“If you want something massive to be flexed, I’ve got lots of big things to tense,” I said out of the side of my mouth, just to tease him more.

 

He turned his hand sideways so it would cover my lips completely.  I took the chance to kiss his palm gently.  He opened his eyes, which had been closed so he wouldn’t spurt out a big load, and gazed at my face.  His look said so much.  There was a deep pleading that almost choked me up.  The dude was clearly desperate for me to be the one – for me to be real. I understood this, because I felt the same way about him.  Earthquakes, hurricanes, and tornadoes would not have moved me from this man at that moment. Something incredibly magical was happening.  Two souls were meeting on a plane that was only perceptible to them.  No one else in the room would have understood or even felt what we were feeling.  He bit his upper lip and forced his breathing to not be so hard.  He had been on the brink of ejaculation, but something much more intimate was taking over.

 

“I really need this to be real,” he said – and I knew it would be the most heartfelt thing I’d ever hear in my entire life.  “I know it’s been less than a few hours, but my body had never been this fucking sure. My head says yes.  My gut says yes.  My heart says yes.  And my cock screams yes.  Hell, I even think my small toe says yes.  But don’t take me down this road, big man, unless you’re sure, too.  I could get lost in you.  I could get very lost.  You could break my bones and I’d finally heal, but I’m pretty sure if you broke my spirit, I’d never trust anyone ever again.  So walk away now, if this isn’t right for you, too.”

 

I leaned in and kissed him. I realized – at that particular moment – no words would be sufficient.  I knew that I needed to show him how I felt – instead of trying to prove it with weak sentences.  He needed the kind of confirmation that only strong lips and a prying tongue could give. Our kiss turned ravenous instantly. He grabbed the side of my face and pulled my head into his with a force that even impressed a big guy like me. His tongue actually gave mine a run for its money and we battled powerfully as we traded spit.  I, of course, would prove something different at a later time. We both were moaning a little and I could sense that people were staring.  I didn’t care.  This little fucker knew how to lip-lock like a pro.  I was tensing every muscle in my body trying not to explode because of his incredible oral skills.  I finally had to pull my face from his – fearful that I might orgasm at any second.

 

“Holy shit, little man, where’d you learn to do that?” I asked, reaching up to fan my face.

 

“Just now, sir.  I needed you to know how much I cared.” he replied. 

 

“Well it worked,” I shot back. “That’s like a secret weapon, dude.”

 

“Did I find the big man’s kryptonite?” he asked.

 

“Hell no, just the opposite. Kisses like that can make me take on the world,” I answered.

 

“Something I’d love to watch,” he teasingly said.

 

“You need a big knight in shining armor, little man?” I asked, deciding to toy with him, too.

 

“I’d prefer a muscle daddy in leather, sir,” he replied.  

 

I had anticipated him to continue the playful banter, but – instead – he went for honesty.  A big surge of juice shot from my balls when I heard his answer.  The little guy was so spontaneous and such a mystery.  He could be so cheeky and joking at one moment and then he’d surprise me with a comment I knew revealed corners of his soul.  I’m sure part of what made a good businessman was to always keep them guessing – and he was doing that quite well with me.  I was still being tested.  He was making sure I had the ability to keep up with him – to banter with him when he needed to play and to turn serious when it was time to – even if only briefly – open up.  I’d seen his type before – but no one had ever been this deliciously honest before. Most guys could volley a cute conversation for a while but usually they’d become distracted by my body or quickly become bored.  It seemed like this guy was a pro – but I still treaded lightly.  Neither of us wanted to be hurt – and we both knew it could still happen.

 

“I’ve got a drawer full of fun leather apparel.  Maybe you’d like to see me model it sometime?” I said, noting how his crotch twitched at the statement.

 

“I plan on it, sir,” he replied – and his tone told me something that solidified this guy as a major contender for my next long-term relationship – maybe he’d even be the ‘one.’

 

“It’s not going to be tonight, though, is it?” I asked, crossing my fingers in my mind, hoping for the right answer.

 

“We both know the answer to that already, sir,” he replied, smiling broadly.  “If I came home with you tonight I’d be just one of them.  You’d be the same for me.  Either one of us can easily find distractions, but I have the feeling that you’re actually looking for the same thing I am.  You’re looking for honesty, dedication, adoration, and someone who needs you desperately.  Someone that needs all the things you can offer and all the things you can do. You’ve been testing me all night long – just like I have you.  Sure, we can go get our rocks off at your place if we wanted to.  That would be nice, I’m sure – but we can do that any night of the week.  What’s been happening to both of us during these last few hours only happens once or twice in a lifetime.  I’m going to wine and dine you, my friend.  I’m going to show you off as much as I can.  I want to see how you do outside of this bar – which is clearly your domain.  I’m simply a visitor in the kingdom of muscle daddies.  I have a feeling there’s no test I could give you that you won’t ace easily, but when it comes to protecting my heart I have no problem sticking to a game plan.  I’m sure all of this makes sense, doesn’t it.”

 

“Most of it makes perfect sense.  You seem to have one part wrong, though,” I said – leaning in to emphasize my point.

 

“Oh,” he said, looking a little disappointed that I might say something wrong, “What’s that?”

 

“If someone’s going to be leading the wining and dining it’s going to be me,” I said, oozing so much confidence my own words even turned me on a little. 

 

The man stopped breathing. I had usurped his authority – his leadership abilities – without him even seeing it coming.  This didn’t distress him – no, it actually did the opposite.  It thrilled him.  He had forgotten one of the golden rules of being with a muscle daddy – the big guy’s always in control.  I had assured my dominance in just one sentence and he loved it.  

 

“Of course, sir,” he said, quietly.  

 

I grabbed his chin softly with my big hand and again brought my face into his.  This time, he was ready for me from the start.  His lips, tongue, and mouth took over the kiss in a way that made my toes curl tightly in my boots.  I also squeezed his chin harder which made him moan with happiness. The guy shot a hand up to my biceps, copping a feel of my muscle mountain.  I could tell by the way he latched on to my gun that he was falling for me, big time.  I was feeling the same way about him.  I pushed his face back a little, just so I could remind him of who was boss.

 

“Did you forget your proper place, little stud,” I asked, smiling so he’d know I was teasing.

 

“Yes sir,” he sheepishly replied.

 

“Don’t let it happen again,” I said, pulling his face back into a passionate kiss and then letting him go.

 

Bradley let go of my big biceps and made a fist with his hand.  He started punching my big mound of muscle and then moaned a little when the hard thing didn’t give at all.  I tensed it even more and he put a little more power behind his punch, marveling at how the thing still didn’t budge when he smacked it with his clenched hand.  He kept pounding it harder and harder – which, in turn, made my cock get harder and harder.  He finally stopped – probably because his fingers had started to hurt.  He pulled back and looked up into my face.

 

“Hard enough for you?” I asked.

 

“I don’t know, sir, you’re not inside me, yet,” he quickly replied and I almost fell over from the thrill his words gave me.

 

“Aw, little man, you can’t come out of nowhere with comments like that.  You have no idea what that does to me,” I said, closing my eyes briefly to calm my dick down.

 

“You see, that’s the problem,” he shot back, “I know exactly what it does to you . . . sir.”

 

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle what you’ve started here, little fella?  I can be wilder than a herd of stampeding buffalo when I get a little excited,” I warned him.

 

“I hope you’re more than just a little excited, sir,” he said with an impish smile.  “I’m feeling like I may go ‘all in’ for this thing happening between us, so I’d like to know that I’m turning you on something fierce.” 

 

“We’ve got to slow down, little man or I’m going to either explode or rip you apart,” I said, quickly putting an end to our little teasing session.  “I hope that explains how fierce I am.”  

 

I meant it, too.  I had gotten jacked to the point where I could have easily gone beyond the point of no return.  I wanted the little guy so much that my body was screaming for me to attack.  That’s the thing about finding a true worshipper, though – he’s worth the wait. You force yourself to not give into your basic urges, just so you can be with the ideal mate.  Even though I was a pro muscle daddy, I still didn’t trust myself when it came to preventing myself from giving in to my need for pleasure. The bigger a man is the bigger his desire.  I was aching for my new buddy so much that all I could think about was him being speared on my hard rod.  But that needed to wait.  I was still convinced that he could be so much more than just a good fuck.  I moved away from him so the heat between us could cool a little. 

Part Four

 

“God, you’re so tiny,” I said and he could tell it was a compliment.

 

“You like that?” he asked.

 

“You know I do.  Need a big man to protect that small body?” I continued.

 

“Ummm, yes, but I also need you to play with me, too.  And you know without even asking that I like it when a big guy plays rough,” he replied, squeezing my nipples hard.

 

“Aw fuck, I want to squirt so badly,” I said, pushing his body up against the bar.  “This common decency crap is overrated.  I’d like to have my way with you right here, right now.”

 

“I have a feeling nothing . . . or no one . . . could stop you, sir,” he replied – clearly loving the fact that I was so close to being out of control.  

 

“Wild horses couldn’t stop me when I get going, Bradley.  I’m like a gray-haired Hercules defeating an arena full of competitors one by one and not even breaking a sweat.  If you’re the prize, little man, I’m going to destroy anything that challenges me,” I said, in a deep rumbling voice that emphasized the words in a way that seemed god-like.

 

A true muscle daddy exudes power in everything he does.  Taking a swig of beer or even doing something as mundane as folding laundry is naturally done in a way that emphasizes the man’s size and strength.  The daddy doesn’t even need to try and be something – he just automatically is . . . huge, intimidating, and jaw-droppingly impressive.  It’s like there’s an aura of hardness and mass that surrounds him and envelopes anyone and anything that comes near him.  I knew I made the world around me seem smaller – rooms, furniture, men. This had been a fact for so long I had become oblivious to it by this point.  It was only when little men became tongue-tied or frozen in awe that I was reminded of how intense it could be to meet me for the first time.  Or when I accidently broke something, because I used too much power – that was always a reminder, as well.  I put out so much muscle daddy heat that Bradley was starting to perspire a little.  The dude couldn’t drink in enough of my body or attitude to satisfy him even for a few minutes.  It was like he was scared I was a mirage that was going to disappear any second.  I was so turned on by my preppy friend I had become a little love-drunk.  I leaned down to whisper in his ear.

 

“I want to hold your body against the ceiling with one hand,” I said, letting the intimacy of the moment emphasize my point and keeping my bearded chin lightly against his neck.

 

How the little man kept from spurting out a major load was beyond me.  I knew, instinctively, that my comment was going to release something primal in the guy.  I was this elder giant emphasizing all of my daddiness in one little statement. First, there was the fact that I’d be lifting him with one hand – that was almost too much by itself.  Second, he would be completely defenseless and I’d barely be using even half of my true power.  Third, I was more than twice his age and I’d be easily reminding him how simply he could be manhandled.  Lastly, everyone in the bar would instantly know how inferior they all were and, at the same time, wish they were in Bradley’s place.  There was certainly power in my biceps – power beyond Bradley’s imagination – but there was even more strength in my words . . . in my attitude. I let my warm breath caress the side of his face and neck as he swallowed hard and let my words sink in.  The little man was desperately trying to conceive what it would feel like to be pressed in the air by one of my massive arms. He was letting his backside dream about being smashed against the wood above him.  At the same time, however, I knew he wanted to force these visions from his head so he would not explode in some muscle daddy induced eruption.  If he hadn’t been mine before that moment, I now knew Bradley submitted to me completely.  He wanted to give up all control and let the daddy beast in front of him lead in all things – sexual and beyond.  I decided to not play fair.

 

“And while I easily hold you in place, I’d flex my other big arm so you’d have something monstrous to gaze upon from way up there,” I whispered.

 

Every time I worked out I’d always take time between sets to flex in front of the mirror.  Most people thought I was just checking out my progress, but what I really was doing was taking a look at what my little worshippers always saw.  I made it a habit to look at myself from their eyes – from their perspective. This inspired me much more than how I might see things.  I’d been huge for so long I’d really forgotten how impressive it was – but not when I saw some guy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he gawked at my muscles. Being a muscle daddy fairy that granted little men’s fantasy wishes was what made all of the workouts worthwhile. I built my body beyond big merely because little men like Bradley could come close to passing out just because I whispered what I might do.  Pinning him against the ceiling would have been a simple feat for me – telling him that I could do it, however, was even more fun.  His imagination – even though it couldn’t come close to comprehending the real thing – went wild and took him places where a mere act of strength could not. Later on, when I truly lifted him with one arm, he’d remember this moment and realize his fantasy was sorely insufficient in comparison.  My comments had made Bradley step off into muscle heaven.  He was completely in lust.

 

“What do you say to that, Bradley, man?” I asked, keeping my lips close to his ear.

 

“I . . . uh . . . I . . .” he stammered, clearly still trying desperately to control his body.

 

“No need to speak, little man.  Your body radiates your answer.  You take a few minutes to recover.  I’m not going anywhere.  I feel like the luckiest muscle daddy in the world, right now.  I get the feeling I’ve won a prize sent from the heavens,” I said, pulling my head away from his and staring down at the frozen pup – clearly scared that any motion whatsoever would make him convulse in a pleasure dump.

 

The poor dude just stared forward – not wanting to move at all.  I knew I needed to give him some time.  I used the short break to reflect on something I had been contemplating recently. I have no idea when a guy graduates into muscle daddy-dom.  I know it has something to do with age, but I knew a lot of older men that weren’t even close to being a muscle daddy.  I also knew it had something to do with size, but there were lots of big men that couldn’t be considered for the title – no matter how much they wanted it.  I also knew it definitely had a lot to do with attitude, but some guys just assumed it meant you had to be mean or constantly domineering – and it was so much more than that.  Lately, I had realized that while all of those things were definitely needed for you to become a muscle daddy, it was clearly something else that tipped the scale for a guy.

 

“You alright there, little Bradley?” I asked, checking on the guy and smiling when he let out a slight whimper – making it clear he needed more time.

 

So, what I’d come to understand about muscle daddies was that a guy got big, a guy grew older, and a guy developed the right attitude, but it was the little men that were the professors handing out the diplomas.  You couldn’t be a muscle daddy on your own – since that just meant you were a huge older man living by himself.  You needed the worshipper – the awe-struck little one – the Bradley’s of the world to make you a muscle daddy.  I couldn’t remember the exact moment when I was awarded the title, but I could remember instances where the transformation had started.  The moment in the produce section of a grocery store when a young man had dropped the two grapefruits he was holding and they rolled across the floor because I had come up beside him and my giant arm had shaken him a little, but he had fallen apart as soon as he turned to take in all of my daddy-ness. Or the time the UPS man had turned as rigid as a statue when I opened the door wearing only flimsy cotton gym shorts. He couldn’t say or do anything.  I had to take the box, sign the little machine they use, and then carry the guy and set him back in his truck.  It took him about thirty minutes to recover.  I knew it was time to check in with Bradley, again.

 

“You alright there, sport?” I asked and, again, smiled when all I got was a whimper and a slight nod.

 

Another moment when I realized I was becoming the daddy of most guys’ dreams happened at the hardware store.  I hadn’t realized the small dude helping me was seriously infatuated with me, since I was focused on some item that was a few feet above both of us on a top shelf. The guy said he’d go get the ladder and I told him there was no need – I was kind of in a rush.  I simply grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up so he could reach what I needed.  It had seemed like an easy solution.  I had not anticipated, however, what it would do to the poor kid.  As soon as I got him hoisted into the air his body started flopping around in my hands like he was having some kind of seizure.  It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. I was kind of embarrassed I had caused him to ejaculate so hard, so I just held him in the air until he stopped cumming.  He grabbed the item and I set him back on the floor, apologizing profusely.  He merely looked up at me and said thank you, sir. Looking back on that memory, I now realize that the ‘sir’ at the end of his statement of gratitude would become the telling sign of when you had become a muscle daddy.

 

“Drink . . . please, sir,” Bradley suddenly said in a soft voice, as if he had known what I was thinking.

 

I immediately knew what he needed.  I brought his glass up to his lips and let him take a small sip.  He still stood there frozen, as if he were concentrating very hard on something.  I could see he still needed more time.  I went back to thinking about the word ‘sir.’  It was when waiters started saying things to me like ‘right away, sir’ or bartenders saying ‘here’s your drink, sir’ that I truly began to realize my new role.  I grew a bushy mustache and always had thick stubble across the bottom of my face.  I made sure my clothes emphasized all my massive bulges and I started making sure my movements were determined and strong – flexing when I did normal things.  Crowds at bars or in the gym started parting when I came walking up.  I no longer paid for drinks at bars unless I wanted to – admirers always bought them for me with a ‘this is for you, sir’ accompanying them. Upgrades on flights, at hotels, or being given other free stuff was a common occurrence.  And then there were the open-mouths, saucer-sized eyes, and hard crotches gifted to me on a daily basis.  I started marveling at how men chose to hide their erections – the doctor with his clip board held at waist level, the businessman that wouldn’t stand up from his desk when I prepared to leave, the motorcycle cop that kept his helmet at crotch level as I flexed my way out of a ticket, and the trainer at my gym who confessed to wearing three pairs of tight underwear on days he knew I’d be working out – both to keep his hardness flat and to soak up any leakage. It really was astounding how I had so easily moved into the role of an extreme muscle daddy.  And now my title was being ignited beyond my wildest dreams because of the fire my body had stoked in Bradley.  He made me want to be an even better elder muscleman.

 

“Mind if I come back in, Bradley?” I asked as I moved in closer to the fellow.

 

The little guy had returned from muscle heaven.  He looked up at me with a smile and nodded.  I placed my big hand on the back of his neck, squeezing kind of hard.  I knew he was at a place where intimate contact no longer threatened to release a tsunami in his pants.  The poor guy winced as I squeezed, but I knew he could handle it. I also knew he wanted it.  

 

“Had to drift away to muscle la-land for a little while, huh, Bradley?” I teasingly asked.

 

“You can be a little too much, sir,” the small guy responded.

 

“But that’s a good thing, right?” I added.

 

“Definitely, sir,” he answered.  “When it comes to you, sir, there’s no way I could have too much of a good thing.”

 

“Aw, kiddo, that’s probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me,” I said, squeezing his neck even harder and watching his face scrunch up in appreciated pain. “You like it when I use my strength, don’t you?”

 

“Yes sir,” he answered with tight lips, even after I had stopped squeezing.

 

Part Five

 

“You know, Bradley, I should come visit you at work some day,” I said, taking a sip of my beer and pressing up against his hard cock at he sat on the stool with my big body between his legs.  “Get a good look at you in your expensive suit, running your big company, and telling lots of people what to do.  I’d make your big office seem small – you know, like the way a big elephant seems to make a tall tree shrink.  Maybe I could bend something metal as you talk on the phone – sending you back to muscle heaven and making it impossible for you to concentrate.  Or I could just stand behind you when your board members want to come in and say something unflattering to you.  You know, intimidating them just with my presence.  How about I just wear a tight tank top and shorts – making sure all of my muscle daddy massiveness is so emphasized that no one would be able to get any work done – especially you.  I could put you on your huge desk and lift both it and you into the air for a little exercise.  Sound like a plan, Bradley?”

 

“Yes sir,” he replied – clearly loving every part of the idea.  “One of our attorneys likes to bully me, sir.”

 

“Really,” I said, thrusting my massive thigh against his crotch, “Well, we can’t have that, now can we. You just point out the guy and I’ll fold him up so he fits in his briefcase.  No one bullies my little Bradley.  And I mean no one.  Tell me who else I can take care of for you, sweetheart.”

 

“Well, there’s a neighbor near my beach house that likes to blare loud music all the time and ignores all of our requests to turn it down,” Bradley quickly answered, clearly excited by the idea of me taking care of some people for him.  “He’s got a posse of bodyguards, though, so that could be a problem.”

 

I smiled and brought my arms up into a double biceps flex – making sure my massive peaks were tensed into hard, intimidating muscle.  That ever-so-familiar shocked awe-struck look swept across the small man’s face.  The conversation had to stop for a few seconds so his brain could catch up with the rest of his body.  It was difficult for him to fully comprehend my size – or my obvious power.  I took a glance to the right and to the left, wanting to savor the moment through his eyes. Seeing the giant mounds of muscle the way a guy that was never even going to get close to being my size would view them.  My cock hardened even more as I beheld my biceps in the way he was clearly admiring them. 

 

“Bouncers, bodyguards, thugs, and the like have all tried to get the best of this muscle daddy, son,” I said, making sure my voice was full of swagger and cockiness, “But nobody’s even come close.  You’ll love it when I toss guys through the air like they were just wadded up paper. And what about watching me crush huge speakers with my arms or between these massive thighs.  Or maybe I just push your neighbors house into the ocean. How does that sound?”

 

We both knew I wasn’t super strong, but it made no difference.  Just thinking about me doing the things I could – tossing a guy through the air – and the things I couldn’t was enough to turn us both on even more. I hadn’t thought that was even possible. But seeing Bradley contemplate me taking care of his neighbor for him was almost enough to send me into ejaculating bliss.  It was like seeing a kid meet someone pretending to be a superhero.  Bradley had the same kind of worshipping awe-struck eyes.  I balled my fists tighter and pumped my arms back and forth a little to make the rock-hard biceps bulge even more.  My efforts were rewarded with a little drool sliding down the kid’s chin.  

 

“Wanna kiss one, boy?” I asked roughly, knowing the answer before I even asked and chuckling when Bradley merely shook his head in a big yes.

 

I knew I could lower my arm for my little admirer, but I also knew Bradley deserved better.  I would have lassoed the moon and pulled it closer for him if that’s what he had wanted – that’s how powerful he made me feel. So, I knew this kiss needed to be really special.  I let go of the flex with my left arm and reached down to grab one of the legs on the stool Bradley sat on.  My arms were so long it didn’t require any bending.  Lifting the stool and the guy was amazingly easy.  The little man’s drool and lust-filled eyes had been enough to pump more testosterone through my body so I even felt much stronger than usual. 

 

“Let’s bring you up to your prize, Bradley, man,” I said, guiding the guy’s already puckered lips up to my giant arm.

 

Even in the noisy bar I could hear the contented moaning of the little man.  Bradley’s lips turned into a Hoover and aggressively attacked my hard biceps – as if he were a starving wolf being given some raw meat. Within seconds my flexed muscle shimmered in the light because of the sheen of saliva Bradley’s lips were leaving. His nose bent to the side because of the steel-like firmness of the sinew beneath my skin.  My flexed gun was double the size of his head.  I immediately made a mental note to show Bradley the size difference in a mirror one day.  I knew my little friend would find that thrilling.  One of the things that had confirmed my muscle daddy-ness had been my intense affinity for difference in sizes.  Standing beside a grown man who was much smaller and seeing our reflection in a mirror or window was enough to thrill me for a week. Having both of us flex at the same time and seeing how tiny the guy’s muscles were compared to mine was like icing on the cake.  Bradley was a normal sized guy – and had that gymnast’s build I had mentioned before – but compared to me he was a tiny boy beside a pro bodybuilder.  A gray haired massive elder pro bodybuilder.  I laughed as Bradley took quick breaks from savagely kissing my arm so he could look down and see how far he and the stool were from the ground – being held in the air by one arm, albeit a huge one.  It was clear the guy knew I could continue holding him like this for a while.  I finally figured it would be good to give his lips a break – knowing they were already pretty chapped.  I placed him back on the ground and let my right arm drop out of its flex.  The poor guy looked disappointed.

 

“Don’t worry, little man, there’s enough of me for seconds, thirds, and even thousandths,” I said. “You’ll never run out of muscle. Geez, you sure are light, Bradley. I barely even notice it when I’m holding you in the air.”

 

“Trust me,” he said, smiling, “I notice it.”

 

I had learned a long time ago – even before the young guy at the hardware store – that a true muscle-worshipping pup loves to be manhandled.  The pup is turned on when his muscle daddy treats his strength as an afterthought.  An accidental bump sends some dude crashing to the floor and that offers the opportunity for the muscleman to reach down and lift the other dude – like he might pick up a dropped sock.  Or squeezing too hard during a handshake and totally missing the fact that the smaller man is wincing in pain – maybe even letting out a loud yelp.  Or maybe it’s easily moving a piece of furniture that would normally take three to four guys to budge.  A devout pup needs moments like these – moments not overtly obvious to the muscle daddy – to help with a sense of security.  An experienced big man instinctively knows his admirer is always watching.  Drying off from a shower is a good time for some quick poses, there’s no need for wearing a shirt when it’s just the two of you at home, and any chance the big guy gets to lift something so he can get in a quick workout he must always take it just to please the pup.  Another very important rule is a muscle daddy never showers at the gym.  To come home sweaty, pungent, bulging, and horny is a must demand from any card-carrying pup.  You owe it to the little man that he be given the chance to smell, taste, and feel the fruits of your Herculean efforts.  And, if by chance you’ve got a pup that actually likes to go to the gym with you, you must pause every now and then to go to the little weights section where he’s working out so he can get a good grope and whiff.

 

“Bradley, sometimes a crashing wave of desire overwhelms me and I want to grab you into a big bear hug and squeeze your insides out,” I said, tensing my body all over.

 

“Well, I’m glad you don’t,” he responded, “Although I’d probably like it on some level.”

 

“Part of the fun of having a new boy is testing just how much pressure he can stand,” I said, looking into his gorgeous eyes.

 

“I have a high tolerance for pain . . . especially when given by a gray-haired hulk with hands bigger than my head,” the young man responded.

 

His comment made me smile. I had always been super proud of my thick-fingered giant hands.  At age seven I could easily palm a basketball.  When I was just a teenager I got in the habit of always shaking a man’s hand when I first met him – just to get a thrill out of watching the dude freak out when my giant mitt engulfed his making him feel small and demure. Bradley held up his small hand with its palm facing me and I knew what he wanted.  I placed my monstrous appendage against his. When you were just looking at the hands you would have never known the smaller one was a grown man. The enormity of mine made it seem like Bradley was a kindergartner playing patty-cake with a giant.  I could actually bend my fingers at the knuckles over his.  Again, the sight of such a size difference clearly pleased both of us.  We simply stared at our hands as I felt the heat between our palms skyrocket up from the thrill.  

 

“Never met a jar I couldn’t open,” I said, smiling.

 

“Or a locked door, I’m sure,” Bradley quickly added – and that made me chuckle and nod.

 

“I’ve been an arm wrestling champ for all of my life,” I continued.  “There’s nothing better than watching some guy struggle hard – sweating and grunting up a storm – getting nowhere, and I’m barely using any strength at all to beat him.  I also always have to make sure I don’t squeeze too hard.  Hands can be fragile things.”

 

“Around you, sir, I think anything would become fragile,” Bradley said softly, knowing full well his comment would turn me on.

 

“Damn, boy, you’ve got the sweetest mouth around.  I hope all of you is that perfect.” I said, dropping my huge hand to my crotch to adjust my hard-on.

 

Part Six

 

I was starting to get a little weak in the knees for my little man, Bradley – and that never happened. One thing you could never call me was weak.  There was something about this guy, though.  I still needed to wait it out and get to know him better, but every fiber of my body was getting turned on by the small fella – and I had learned a long time ago that my big body never lied.  I started imagining us watching television together and him begging me to put him in a headlock.  Then, I’d squeeze my biceps into his face so hard he’d have depressions across his cheeks and forehead where the veins smashed against him.  I’d wake him up at two in the morning just because I felt like lifting and didn’t want to get out of bed.  He’d be my sleepy little barbell that I pressed into the air until I’d be read for sleep again.  I’d come home after work and make him sit in my lap as I had my beer, so I could play with him before we began our evening.  He, of course, would also get to grope my bod as we sat there.  He deserved to have some fun, too.    

 

The transformation into a muscle daddy happens over a long period of time – that’s why it’s linked to maturity.  However, once you’ve reached the title of an elder flexing god, reading the likes and turn-ons of an admirer becomes second nature.  You’re able to size up a pup in mere moments.  That doesn’t necessarily mean a guy can become your one true pup instantly – no, that takes time.  But muscle daddies that have reached a maximum level of testosterone oozingness and naturally drip with manliness can intuit exactly what makes a little guy tick – what makes the smaller fella get rock hard or even spew uncontrollably.  A king of wrinkled muscle knows if the fragile bod in front of him needs his ass manhandled, his crotch crushed by a huge thigh, or his hand tightly squeezed – close to breaking point.  Knowing how to please the pup is as automatic as whipping out your own substantial meat and pumping out a loud, enthusiastic daddy-load. Being cocky and dominating is actually muscle daddy masturbation.  As you crank up the juice in your adoring fan, you crank up your own massive tool. It’s always mutually satisfying or it’s not a true muscle daddy.  The more your muscles and strength excite the little one you’re holding in the air or flexing for, the more you got to give him.  It’s a glorious muscle cycle – enhanced by daddy talk, grunting, terms of endearment or just purring like an enormous lion.

 

I had become an expert of reading subconscious signs offered by little men I was flirting with.  Most of the time, the dude didn’t even know he was blatantly offering me erotic maps to what would make him happy.  A dude that can’t take his eyes off of your arms wants flexing – and lots of it – but he also clearly wants you to use those arms to show off, too.  He needs to personally feel the power your massive biceps naturally and easily produce. He wants you to lift him every chance you get – whether it’s to the stool by the bar or a toss to the bed a few feet away.  The cute thing that keeps taking every opportunity to move between your massive legs spread invitingly apart wants you to squeeze him with the monstrous things until he gets close to passing out.  A guy that compliments your clothes over and over again clearly loves the way giant muscles look in skin-tight material.  You want to pump every muscle you can so the material gets stretched to the ‘almost ripping’ point.  And if you can afford to lose some shirts or pants by flexing out of them, you’re going to cause euphoria in the man that’ll be on par with an erupting volcano.

 

Then there are the subtle signs - the ones that most amateur muscle daddies miss.  A guy that keeps talking about how huge you are is obviously sending you messages that he likes size comparison.  He might not even know he loves seeing your giant muscles next to smaller ones.  When you get one of these fellas you want to always make sure you stand next to smaller men – the smaller the better – so your admirer gets a full view of just how mammoth you really are.  You bend your arm next to the guy at the bar beside you so your pup’s mouth will drop open wide as he compares the anthill to your mountain.  Another unspoken desire most gray-haired muscled behemoths miss is what a guy truly wants when he takes the time to introduce you to his friends or acquaintances.  If your pup is taking the time to share you with others, he is actually begging you to impress the hell out of them.  You’re secretly being asked to intimidate other men – and your poor date might not even realize it’s what he wants.  Of course, there’s the powerful squeeze when you’re shaking hands with his friends – that’s an expected treat.  Your pup wants to see his friends wince a little from the pain and, at the same time, see how monstrous your hand is compared to the delicate one you’re gripping. But some added unexpected pleasure comes if you choose to stand really close to his friends as you talk to them – the size difference being fun, but also getting to watch the inferiority complex your massiveness causes in his friends fills your pal with a raging desire he didn’t expect.  He watches his friends unconsciously buttoning up their opened shirts because they know their chest doesn’t come close to yours.  These same friends cross their arms and press against their biceps with the backs of their hands to make their tiny bulges bigger – in hopes they don’t look so small compared to yours.  And then there’s the obligatory deepening of their voice and attempt at copping an attitude in hopes they could come close to matching your oozing manliness. Of course, they never do and this pleases your pup to no end.  

 

I had picked up on some definite subconscious desires from Bradley.  He was clearly a fur man – my beard scraping against the side of his face as I whispered to him had sent jolts through his body that were powerful enough to light up an entire town for a week.  The little guy loved my bushy, manly mustache and thick stubble.  He understood – without even thinking about it – that I could shave my chiseled chin completely smooth one morning and by two in the afternoon I’d have enough bristly hair to rug-burn the inside of his thighs as I toyed with his pulsing balls.  He didn’t need to see the dense forest sprouting out across my chest – even noticeable through my shirt – since he automatically knew it was there. Bodybuilders shaved all over, while muscle daddies – true muscle daddies – pumped out so much testosterone that they sprouted thick, hard fur that pleased a cheek, begged for caresses, or longed to get caught between teeth as the little man’s mouth went to town on your chest.  Bradley was especially turned on by the salt and pepper fur across my mammoth pecs – visible because of my open shirt.  

 

My pretty little prepster was also sending me subconscious messages about his ass.  When I lifted him up against my body – groping his globular cheeks in my mammoth hands – he twitched his dimpled butt in a way that made it perfectly clear that a muscled daddy pounding not only made him happy – it was a gift he liked to bestow on his elders.  He had an ass that just wouldn’t quit and he knew exactly how it sent me into pleasure overload – just feeling it and imagining what I might do to it later on.  It was his golden chalice – his secret cave – and his most precious offering for any man deemed worthy of its access.  I had instantly known there were many hurdles and labors I would have to perform before I would even be considered for that hard, juicy reward.  My giant hands groping the gorgeous ass, however, had been the first perfect score I had received in the long list of tests.  I had instantly made it clear I was a master at manhandling buttocks.  I used the perfect combination of painful squeezing and comforting massaging – making it strongly obvious that I was the kind of ass man that gave as much power as I received.  A powerful pounding that does not make your little man squeal in delight and shoot off like a roman candle is a wasted pounding.  I knew his chute longed for my massive tool in the same way his mouth desired my huge, hard nipples.  It was second nature to both of us.

 

Hidden deep in his desire for domination was something Bradley could not even fathom he wanted, however.  I was so attuned to little men, I had picked up on something in our short time together that he was – at this time – unable to know existed deep in the recess of his brain and heart.  Bradley needed something that was actually rare in most muscle daddy – pup relationships. It was also something that most towering, bulging, elder men would miss.  The man desired total freedom . . . the kind of freedom that could only be obtained through absolute abandonment.  The thing that came closest to describing it was that moment you first leapt from an airplane when skydiving.  It had to be the first time, though.  For, even as much as every jump was thrilling, that first one would never be repeated.  Freefalling through the sky on that initial time connected immortality with mortality – fear and excitement – control and loss of control.  Unbeknownst to Bradley, he hoped I might be the man who could finally empower him to give up control.  He was so used to controlling everyone and everything around him he could not even begin to fathom what it would be like to wake up one morning and not immediately start a list in your head that would later be ticked off.  He had absolutely no idea how freeing it could be to not have to make a decision – and, yet, that is what he desired. Bradley unconsciously wanted his first thought every morning to be about feeling muscles, pleasing someone big, and getting off in return.  

 

Every leather-like crinkling sounding flex of my mature muscles was now focused in one – and only one direction – helping Bradley become aware of what he truly wanted, desired, secretly needed in a way that could never be revealed before I had come on the scene.  I knew, now, that we were the ying and the yang of muscle worship . . . of muscle relationships.  All of the densely packed electrons in my body were alive with awareness of one thing – pleasing the small man before me.  I needed to advance slowly, for it was still possible to ruin the potential bond that was quickly blossoming between the muscle daddy and the adoring admirer.  One false move – one action that forced the issue too quickly – could send both of us home forever empty handed and our core beings fully aware of the gloriousness we had missed.  My advanced years and my experience put me at a definite advantage in this awareness. I knew, instinctively, that Bradley’s soul and desired-filled libido was completely in tune with what was happening, but I also realized that all had not become apparent to his conscious brain yet. He would need more time to fully understand that he truly only wanted to wake up in the morning and have his first thought be about muscle, pleasing me, and being pleased by me.  He wanted coffee, business, friends, and all other things to be an afterthought.  He wanted waking up consciousness to be purely and only submerged in hardened bulging arms that surrounded him, a powerful heartbeat that sent tremors through his own body, and a desire to be pleasured that was so intense that his entire being opened to being invaded by the giant force that held him.  It was truly when two bodies became one and all lines between pleasing and being pleased were so blurred that it felt like you were pounding yourself.  

 

I, of course, had already realized – to the full extent – how I had fallen into the abyss of complete and utter desire for this man.  I was lost in Bradley-dom.  I was his pawn, his dominator, his keeper, and his prisoner all at the same time.  I now knew my strength, my hugeness, my maturity, and my life, itself, existed to merely give Bradley – and in turn, myself – what he unknowingly desired.  Fulfillment for me would only come if he were absolutely and thoroughly happy.  The pup in front of me did not understand any of this – and he had no idea that I was the only one – on the planet – that could give his inner being what it so desperately desired.  This awareness would come later.  The businessman within my little guy was still ticking off lists to see if I met his requirements.  He was Lois Lane, completely blinded to the fact that his Superman was blatantly disguised in front of him.  I had never felt so powerful in my entire life, but – at the same time – I had never felt the potential for total powerlessness.  If I lost this pup . . . if I did one wrong move and sent him away . . . I knew I would be devastated beyond belief.  The fear of losing him was now my kryptonite.  This was my moment to prove my true muscle daddy-ness. It was enough to make me want to toss the little man through the wall – that’s how scared I was, but I also realized that all of my years of training, all of my moments with other pups – showing off my body and my strength – had led to this moment.  Suddenly, I felt more focused, wiser, and more dedicated to one goal than ever in my entire life.  I was the muscled god coming down from Olympus to offer some mortal all the pleasures my divinity could offer.  At the same time – all of my desires and needs would be met.

 

“Bradley, little man, I know you keep your calendar in your phone – that’s just the kind of powerful man you are – so I want you to take it out right now and type in my name as your date for tomorrow night.  And then I want you to hit the button that says ‘repeat forever’ so it goes on every day from now to eternity,” I said with enough seriousness that the guy actually took out his phone.

 

“Um, I have some other evenings already planned, sir, “ he replied as he unlocked his phone, “You know, with other men.”

 

I moved in closer to him and placed my massive hands on his shoulders.  I was amazed to see that there wasn’t much room left of that part of his body with my big paws sitting there.  I was pretty sure he noticed the same thing, without even turning his head to look.  I squeezed hard – teasingly, making sure to offer a slight amount of pain.  At the same time I tensed my chest, making sure it inflated tremendously before his face.  He stared at it for a few seconds – his eyes growing wide – and then he looked up at me.
 

“See anything – or feel anything – that makes you want to cancel those dates, son?” I asked.

 

“Yes sir,” he instantly replied, his shoulders trying unsuccessfully to escape from my powerful grip.

 

“That’s a good boy,” I replied, “You wouldn’t want me to start paying visits to potential rivals and intimidating them, would you.”

 

“Maybe sir,” he said, honestly, and this made me very happy.

 

The way he kept glancing at my swollen chest made it very clear that it was time for me to bless him with another present.  I had definitely passed some other unspoken test.  I pulled his body forward and let his face smack loudly against my hard chest. The moan that escaped his body, at first, made me worry that he had cum instantly, but then I realized it was merely his reaction to finally getting to feel some of my generous fur, taking a strong whiff of my manly scent, and finally feeling the hardness of my pecs with his face.  For a split second I envisioned this would be how we would one day wake up nestled together, but I immediately forced that thought out of my brain.  That was one of the surest ways to move too quickly and ruin everything.  Let the present moment be enough – and it was – to please you.  If you desired other things too quickly, you wouldn’t allow your pup to catch up with your awareness, your desire, or all of your abilities.  Maintain your muscle daddy-ness at all moments.  You can lead a pup to your pecs, but you cannot make him automatically suck with passion – that had to come from within him.  I knew to let him go at his own pace.  To say the little dude inhaled deeply would be an understatement.  He nestled his nose and face in between my massive pecs and seemed to go into some kind of trance.  I squeezed my chest even tighter around his cheeks and he mumbled incoherent words into my muscles.  I knew we were drawing a lot attention from other guys in the bar, but I didn’t care. I was giving my little man what he needed and I would have flattened anyone or anything that got in the way of doing that.  

 

“Pretty PEC-tacular, huh, Bradley,” I teased.

 

“Yes sir,” he mumbled back, but I could understand what he was saying – mainly from the adoring tone. 

 

I could feel my mounds of muscle squeezing the hell out of his face.  I’m sure it was painful, but he didn’t care.  It was just another moment of me showing him my power.  I probably had him trapped there – but you really can’t trap a willing prisoner.  I could feel his tongue darting out to get a taste of whatever it was that my body radiated – testosterone, sweat, manliness, dominance, or a mixture of it all.  The little man had made me perspire a lot throughout the evening, so I’m sure there was a strong aroma of my hugeness and power.  I got the feeling Bradley could have stayed there for hours, but I wanted to converse with the dude a little more.  I released my flex, releasing his face, and moved back a little.  His body leaned forward as his tongue tried to follow my massive chest.  I caught him before he fell face forward off of the stool and set him upright – aware he was still entranced by the bulges that had surrounded him.

 

“So, do we have a date tomorrow night?” I asked.

 

“No sir,” he replied and smiled at the immediate disappointment in my face.  “We have a date tonight.  It’s past twelve.”

 

I flexed my arm hard and turned my wrist slowly to look at my watch.  It was a move made purely to grab his attention and remind him I was still in charge, even though he had put me in my place concerning the day of our date. My biceps was like superglue to his eyes and his gaze honed in immediately on the bulging mass of muscle. I bounced the flex a few times, just to make the peak twitch.  Appropriately, his eyes got wider.

 

“So it is.  I stand corrected,” I answered.  “And this muscle daddy doesn’t like being corrected.”

 

Only the tone of my voice could tear Bradley’s stare away from my biceps.  He looked up at me and instantly we both got a surge of power to our balls.  When our eyes met there was an unspoken awareness that shot through both of us. I had teasingly been stern when I spoke to him.  The sound of my voice had immediately done something to him.  He became like a puppy that had been caught in the middle of the destroyed box of tissues – unable to escape blame and fully aware of how cute he looked even in his terrible mistake.  I distinctly saw that part of Bradley’s thick wall of control had been chipped away.  Someone more powerful – in every way – had spoken and he was upset he had displeased that person.  I saw incredible love and a deep desire for forgiveness in the face below me.  I was almost overwhelmed by the look – and nearly exploded with a harsh ejaculation.  It took a lot of my strength to prevent me from cumming.  I had seen a glimpse of what was to come – a slither of the true muscle daddy pup that Bradley could become.  For a split second he had truly worried I was displeased.  He was very nervous he had done something that might interrupt this trajectory we were on to a true muscle communion.  Immediately, he recovered and saw that I had been kidding – but that glimpse of raw fear that his muscle daddy was not happy had been enough for me to know that we were destined for great things. I also realized we had inched our way past another milestone.  

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said – mustering enough sincerity to make my cock twitch with excitement.

 

Some would-be muscle daddies found pleasure in tying their pups up – binding their hands and their feet or even wrapping rope around their entire bodies.  I found this a sure sign that someone was not a true muscle daddy. An elder man didn’t need rope, chains, or locks to be his power.  A true muscle daddy knew his body was the only power he’d ever need.  I could have subdued Bradley easily and made it impossible for him to move a muscle – all with just my own huge, powerful body. Keeping a man in place wasn’t about cages with metal bars – it was about cages created completely from the knowledge that his muscle daddy would protect him no matter what.  A guy felt subdued because he knew his huge partner could easily dominate him – something he wanted as much as the big man did.  That split second in Bradley’s consciousness – his worry about me not being pleased – did more for opening his soul to me than anything I could have ever said.  A muscle daddy that is genuine actually never raised his voice or reprimanded too much – simply because his dominating spirit, the power he exuded was enough to make his pup be submissive forever.  It’s actually been proven that a muscle daddy can have a submissive pup who is actually bigger and stronger than him – the pup giant offering himself to the other man simply because the elder man is seasoned, more mature, and can lead without any need of material things.  I easily commanded respect and attention by my massive presence – not merely by anything I said or did. 

 

“That’s fine, pup.  I knew you meant it in a good way,” I replied quickly.  “You’re just that excited about our upcoming date.”

 

And, like that, the guy lit up like a Christmas tree.  My statement of forgiveness was like he was given a new lease on life.  I had darkened his life by a small reprimand – making him think I was displeased, but I had released a tsunami of endorphins by blessing him with understanding.  His face broke out in a giant smile of gratitude and he almost seemed to swell in pride from the fact that I acknowledged his excitement.  We had reached a new plateau in our relationship.  He was beginning to show signs of the ultimate pup I knew he’d be.  I had once made a guy gush a big load simply by barking out the order for him to ‘cum.’ I had a feeling that Bradley was going to be way more easily influenced than that.  I actually think he would one day be able to squirt simply if I invited him to.   His serving spirit was going to be that intertwined with my dominating one.  Of course, he was going to probably be able to do the same thing to me.  He’d probably be able to ask his huge super-strong daddy to spurt for him on the spot.  That’s how much I’d probably want to please him.  I had a feeling my body would take over my brain and instantly do whatever he asked of me.  Of course, all of this was down the line a little while, but we had both already caught glimpse of how it would be.

 

“And what does my main man want to do for our first official date,” I asked, tensing my arm by my side and moving in closer so he could immediately try to grope the hard muscle.

 

“Feel your muscles,” he quickly responded.

 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” I asked.

 

“Yes sir, but I’ll never get enough,” he shot back, not taking his eyes or his hands off of my huge biceps.

 

“Well, how about if I promise a lot of groping later in the evening and we started with dinner at my favorite little French restaurant,” I suggested, and then added, “It only has about twelve tables, so I kind of fill up the place.”

 

“That sounds great, but I promise you I’ll pout if I don’t get to grope,” he said – still working away at my arm.

 

“What kind of muscle daddy would I be if I didn’t let you play with all this?” I asked.

 

His hands stopped their motion and he turned his gaze toward me.  I could tell the look on his face that he wanted to say something very important. 

 

“You have no idea, sir, the kind of electricity that shoots through my body when you call yourself my muscle daddy,” he said.

 

“I think I do, Bradley,” I replied.  “The same thing happens to my body.”

 

“I’ve got a list in my head, sir . . .” Bradley started.

 

“I’m very aware of that, son” I interrupted and the comment caught him off guard at first, but then he smiled as if to say ‘of course you do.’

 

“Well, it’s like you’re ticking off everything on that list, sir.  As the night progresses I seem to be getting closer to say everything’s taken care of,” he answered.

 

“Everything is taken care of, my boy,” I said and the seriousness in my voice made him suck in air audibly.  

 

His hands had automatically restarted trying to grope my huge gun, even though one of his palms didn’t come close to covering my giant tensed peak.  He just pressed in with his fingers over and over, again, as if he was astounded that all of his strength couldn’t press in my muscle at all.  My hardness was a mystery to him.  He hadn’t been in the gym all of those countless days I lifted more weight that he could imagine – pumping blood into the tissue that would multiply and become like marble.  He didn’t know about the days when my muscles ached as much as my cock was aching at that present moment – because of the poundage I moved around at the gym.  And he didn’t know those days when I had to crawl up stairs because my legs hurt from squatting what seemed like a bar loaded with enough weight to equal a city bus. The pup didn’t need to know any of that. He simply got to admire, worship, and love the product of all my hard work.  He was awarded a groping session that kept him rock hard merely because he had not idea an older man could be so buff, so huge, and so fucking cocky.  His tiny hands pressing against my giant gun looked so puny and weak.  It made me want to protect him even more.

 

“Let me be your rock, Bradley.  Your foundation.  Let me be so strong for you that everything else in your life seems fragile and breakable,” I said, and I instantly realized he was silently begging me to continue.  “I’m a hurricane of power just waiting to be released.  You can just say the word and I’ll be everything you’ve ever dreamed a man could be . . . and then some.  Trust the message your hands are sending to your brain right now – that the power in my guns is more than you have ever imagined.  You can’t believe a man my age can be so huge . . . you can’t believe a man of any age can be this huge.  But your hands don’t lie.  You can sense my power without me doing a thing.  You feel the same way I do right now – that there’s nothing in the world more powerful than the bond we are feeling.”

 

“Yes,” he said, softly, and then added, “I feel it, too.”

 

I leaned down and we let our lips meet – barely – so they just brushed against each other, as if teasing. His tongue slid out and pressed between my lips to meet my own.  We then pressed our mouths into each other harder – with a passion that seemed to be equal to the heat at the earth’s core.  I let out a deep rumble-like moan that must have made the little man’s body shake like a train was screeching by.  His oral assault temporarily stopped, as if my moan had frightened him – the way a lion’s roar might cause smaller animals to flee.  He also might have been listening for some kind of echo in the wide expanse of my upper body.  Either way, I noticed the sudden thrill that must have shot up from his toes to his head. I wrapped my huge paw around his head and pulled him into me even harder, making our lips smash together like squashed cement between bricks.  It quickly became clear that even my tongue was bigger and more powerful than his.  And, as if a sign of things to come, he simply submitted to it’s power and let me take control of our kiss.  I sucked so hard it felt like I might make his toes come out his mouth.  I plowed his throat with my tongue in what was clearly a sign of what another part of my body would do at a late date.  I anticipated when he needed air, when he wanted more force, and when he wanted gentleness.  I used my muscle daddy sixth sense to the nth degree – making sure he got a good idea of what I was capable of.  I slid my other hand under his ass and lifted him off the stool, standing erect and easily bringing his body with me.  At the same time, I never let our mouths separate.  I could tell the little man was impressed because his hands, which had moved from my biceps to my huge chest as I lifted him, shook uncontrollably from being overwhelmed.  By this point, he was moaning almost louder than me.  When I finally moved my mouth from his, he kept his eyes closed and continued to breathe deeply – as if he was recovering from a long run.  Finally, he spoke – without opening his eyes.

 

“I really need to go home, sir” he said, “Tomorrow is a work day.  To say this has been the best night of my life is an understatement.”

 

“Maybe it’s just the beginning of the best part of your life,” I replied – still, his eyes remained closed.

 

“I hope so,” he whispered.

 

I lowered his body to the ground but kept my hands in place because I could tell his body was a little shaky.  I was used to having that effect on guys.  I was feeling a little wobbly myself – a totally new experience.  I finally sensed I could release him completely since he opened his eyes.  I stepped back, enabling him to get a good look at my entire huge frame.  I watched as he looked me up and down, clearly wanting to memorize every inch of me – surely for a few rounds of masturbatory pleasure into the wee hours of the morning and beyond.  The thought of him having to step into his private bathroom at work later that day to relieve his hard cock gave me much joy.  I had a feeling I’d even surpass my own personal record of five orgasms in a span of six hours – that’s how much little Bradley turned me on.  We stared at each other for a few seconds – neither of us wanting the magic to end. I finally spoke, knowing full well that the magic would begin again as soon as we were within ten feet of each other. 

 

“Shall we exchange information?” I asked.

 

“I’m eight inches,” he replied, smiling and clearly thinking he had gotten me.

 

“I’m two more than that flaccid,” I quickly replied and was immediately rewarded when his eyes grew wider and he licked his lips.  “Get me really hard, and I’ll really surprise you.”

 

His hands shook as he took out his phone and tried to type in the information I gave him.  I finally had to take his phone and finish it for him. He had recovered by then and ended up showing me how he could send his information via some app – I had never fully learned how to use a smart phone.  I figured my huge muscles made up for it.  Right before we parted I bent down, wrapped my arms around him, and bear hugged him hard as I stood up and took him off the ground.  I again brought my face next to his and whispered in his ear, “I’ll be thinking of you non-stop until tonight.”  I put him back on the ground and we walked out together.  Like a good muscle daddy I walked him to his vintage Jaguar – of course – and watched him drive away.  I immediately felt a profound loneliness and knew I needed a wank session thinking about Bradley to make me feel better.  I actually didn’t wait until I got home. Thank goodness I had some tissues in my truck.    

 

Part Seven

I waddled by his secretary’s desk as she stood and started to tell me I could not go in.  I just did a most muscular flex and grunted loudly. She immediately sat down and shut up – her face white as a ghost.  I made her huge desk look small and she definitely noticed.  I opened the door to a humongous office and there was Bradley sitting behind an even bigger desk - the biggest I’ve ever seen.  Suddenly, I had desk envy.  Windows on three sides surrounded him and the view of the city was spectacular.  He looked up and immediately smiled.  He didn’t move, though.  He just remained seated behind his desk and that simple action turned me on so much. He leaned over and pressed a button on his phone as I shut the door behind me.  

 

“Sarah, I don’t wish to be disturbed.  The big man is a friend,” he said and the way he didn’t wait for a response told me he knew I had scared the crap out of his secretary.  

 

I walked slowly across the floor of the big room to the area where he sat.  I wanted him to get a good view of the tight black muscle hugging t-shirt and even tighter jeans I was wearing.  I could see him adjusting himself beneath the desk as I moved toward him. His eyes went over every part of my torso like a ravenous wolf looking at a big chunk of meat.  There was something about the way he was acting that immediately told me he had expected me to come for a visit.  I thought I would be a huge surprise, but the little dude might actually be my equal in cunning.  I tensed my upper body to make him breathe heavier and the anticipated reaction did not disappoint.  I had a feeling my biceps were almost an inch thicker because of all the beating off I had done the night before thinking about the little stud.  He had cute circles under his eyes that led me to believe thoughts of me had kept him up all night, as well.  I was caught off guar by how happy that thought made me.  

 

“Take a chair,” he said, pointing to one of the large wing back chairs in front of his desk.

 

I bent down, grabbed the humongous thing by the leg, easily lifted it into the air, and said, “Where would you like me to take it?”

 

His face lit up like a Christmas tree.  I had a feeling he was going to ask me sometime to do that with him sitting in it – I could see him making a mental note.  Little Bradley, always making lists.  I put the chair down and walked around to sit in it.  I, of course, turned so my ass and huge back was on display for him for a few minutes – just to wreck him completely.  He actually sucked in air.  He quickly regained control, though – something that continued to impress me.  The little guy obviously had some hidden inner strength.

 

“How did you get by security in the lobby?” he asked and I noticed both of his hands were still underneath the desk, moving back and forth.  He was blatantly and proudly stroking a hard on my presence had produced. Or maybe he had remained hard since we parted earlier.

 

“I simply held them in the air and fucked them both senseless in the broom closet,” I teasingly said.  This made the man moan a little and then break into a knowing smile.  “Naw, just kidding.  It was easy.  I’m bigger. They really didn’t have a choice. They asked me to flex, which I gladly did.  We arm-wrestled a few times – both of them against me at the same time.  They foolishly thought I might be too tired to win the third time.  They, however, were so worn out by that point all I had to do was tell them you and I had a serious thing going on and they went all gooey inside, instantly allowing me access.  It pays off to be big sometimes”  

 

“I’m pretty sure it pays off being big all the time, sir,” Bradley said, smiling a knowing grin.

 

“It certainly did last night,” I replied and he nodded ‘yes.’

 

“And why, Mr. Butch, sir, have you decided to grace me with your presence today,” Bradley said – encouraging me on even more.

 

“I thought I’d get a glimpse of the wild beast in his natural habitat,” I replied.  “It seems to me you had some staff members and board members that needed some intimidation from a huge muscle daddy.”  

 

“And what do you think, sir?” he asked.

 

“Pretty nice digs. I’ve never had an office in a high rise. I tend to work outdoors mostly,” I replied.

 

“Hence the perfect golden tan,” he said, making sure I felt complimented.  

 

“I have an awesome tan line,” I said, smiling.  “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

 

“That would be wonderful, sir,” he answered.    

 

I pushed my chair back a little and put my feet up on his desk.  It was a bold move.  I was ready to take my presumed dominance – even in his office - to a higher level. I crossed my giant legs and made it so we looked at each other between my huge work boots.  I could see Bradley staring at the size of my shoes.  I saw him swallow hard, but I also saw a little gleam in his eye and knew right away that he was rising to the challenge in more ways than one.  He finally got up from his chair slowly, making sure I got a great view of the hard cock unashamedly pressing against his suit pants.  Of course, it was a given that his clothes were tailor made. He looked impeccable.  He walked around his giant desk, not even trying to hide the rocket at his crotch.  When he got near my massive thighs he looked at my face and without him saying a word I knew exactly what he wanted.  I impressed the shit out of him when I raised the top leg almost straight up, showing how flexible I was.  He stepped in between my legs and turned toward me.  I lowered the big thing back to the desk and immediately squeezed – pulling him closer by flexing my muscled calves.  Our hard-ons were pressing against each other and the small man started running his hands up and down by big quads, purposefully avoiding my hard shaft. We both looked at how tiny his fingers and palms looked compared to my mega thighs.  

 

“I could smash your little body until you passed out, Bradley,” I said.

 

“I know you could, sir,” he replied and I could feel his hands tremble a little with excitement.  

 

“Would you like me to do that?” I asked – and my tone was suddenly serious.  

 

His face showed that he was right there with me as far as intensity goes and he said, “No, sir, I’d rather not have to change my clothes and I know I’d certainly explode right before I blacked out.”  

 

“You know, of course, that you really don’t have a choice,” I continued – just to emphasize my point. “Those big things wrapped around your body control the situation completely.”

 

“Yes sir, I do, but I have a feeling that if I ask politely you’ll save this particular thrill for another time,” he responded as he continued to stroke my thighs.  

 

It took almost all of my strength not to immediately squeeze the breath out of the little guy.  He was right, for sure.  I wouldn’t do anything without his approval.  That approval didn’t need to be verbal, though. Sometimes, a muscle daddy just knows what his pup needs by looking at him.  Bradley wasn’t ready to feel the full force of my giant trunks.  He was not a delicate man, but we both knew he wouldn’t last long if I chose to intensify the pressure of my legs.  I lessened the present light compression just to help myself move away from uncontrollably squashing him – just because I wanted to so much.  I was proud of myself for waiting.  This little guy was proving to be way more than I had ever dreamed possible in a worshipper and I wanted to make sure he knew how much I appreciated him.   

 

“Your self control amazes me, sir,” he said with much admiration.  

 

“We’ll wait, tiny fella, we’ll wait.  You’re certainly worth it,” I said, smiling.  “What’s it feel like to be the top man of this place?”

 

“Probably the same as when you have a small guy between your legs and you know you could squeeze the life out of him,” Bradley replied.

 

My legs automatically tightened at his response.  I couldn’t help myself.  He had pushed all of the right buttons to egg this alpha on.  He was toying with me – trying to see if I could hold out.  Then I realized it was another test.  That made it easy for me to not squeeze.  I lessened the pressure and just smiled. Bradley smiled, too.  He was beyond impressed by my ability to not give into my base desires.  He knew a sign of a true muscle daddy was to always be in control – to be the one that makes all the decisions, even when it comes to getting off.  He was getting closer and closer to offering himself completely to me. 

 

“It would be hot to watch you turn red and see your eyes bug out, but we’ll have to wait until another time,” I said, making it clear that I was still in control.  

 

“You’re getting closer to the prize,” he said with much sincerity.

 

“Am I?  And what if I just took the prize whenever I wanted to?” I asked.

 

“You would never do that. We both know that the moment will reveal itself to us at the same time.  It will be like two bolts of lightning coming together.  There’s a few more things we need to find out about each other,” he said, calmly – still stroking my legs.

 

“You mean like whether or not I squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom or the middle of the tube?” I questioned.

 

“Yes sir, something like that,” he answered, chuckling at my joke.  “Or maybe more like whether my muscle daddy can truly meet all of my needs.” 

 

“Little man, Bradley,” I said leaning forward a little, “I need a jolt of that lightning you spoke of right now.  That’ll show you what I’m capable of.”

 

He knew what that meant. The guy grabbed the sides of my face and drew our mouths together.  My entire body tensed hard when our lips met and his tongue darted in.  I’m pretty sure we stayed locked together that way for a good ten minutes – or even longer.  My rough stubble and mustache scraped his pretty face raw.  By the time we separated our heads we were both so hard that it was clear we shouldn’t even be touching each other.  I removed my legs and set his small body free.  He leaned back against the desk and I spread my legs wide enough so my knees were about a foot from his body – even that was too close.  

 

“Damn, boy, I’d still don’t know where you learned to suck face like that?” I said, desperately trying to calm my body down.

 

“It just depends on who I’m kissing, sir.  If the connection is there the sucking face part just comes naturally,” he replied and I knew he was right.  

 

“So you feel it, too, don’t you, Bradley?” I asked and I could see by the look on his face he was ecstatic to finally talk openly about what was going on.  

 

“Butch, sir, I haven’t gotten anything done at work today.  I’ve been too busy thinking about you,” he replied honestly.

 

“Why the hell do you think I came over – I’ve been having the same problem,” I responded.

 

We just stared at each other.  This was one of the last hurdles to clear before we dove head first into this magic that was happening between us.  I ached for the man.  I had been searching for someone of his caliber for over thirty years.  He had no idea how I could rock his world, but I was determined to show him.  I could see he was thinking the same thing about me.  He was dying to submit himself totally to my alpha-ness.  He was desperate to give up control – since he never ever got to.  I could feel Bradley internally begging for something even though he was a few feet away. I just knew it like I knew my own face. I brought my arms up slowly, balled up my fists, and then started flexing my biceps to their full height. The small guy let out a whimper that made me tense even harder.  Somehow, I made my big guns bulge bigger, harder and stronger than I ever had before.  I saw a tiny dark spot appear at Bradley’s crotch and I knew he just couldn’t help himself – a little spooge had to bubble out.  I didn’t hold the flex long.  I instinctively knew I should not.  It would have been too much for the little guy.  I brought my arms down and put my hands in my lap.  I gave Bradley a few minutes to recover.  

 

“What do you bench,” he asked quickly and I instantly knew he was in interview mode.

 

“More weight than you can imagine,” I replied, and his moan told me I had answered correctly.

 

“How big are your guns?” he continued.

 

“Much thicker than your tiny waist,” I replied and he moaned even louder.

 

“What’s your favorite thing to do with a little man?” he asked, even more excited than before.

 

“Walking around the room while I hold him upside down and we sixty-nine,” I answered, now anticipating the moan.  I knew it was my turn so I asked, “How much are you worth?”

 

“More than the GNP of some small countries,” he replied and it was my turn to let out a little gleeful sound, although mine was much deeper.

 

“What’s your favorite muscle on a big man?” I asked.

 

“The one that’s the largest!” he said laughing and then he added, “I’m a gun man, sir, but I love them all.”

 

“And what’s your favorite way to worship a muscle daddy?” I joyously asked, knowing his answer would thrill me – no matter what it was.

 

“Facing him while I sit on his lap straddling his quads with his big pole inside me.  I love groping all of his upper body as he slowly invades me,” Bradley said confidently, knowing full well that I’d get a small wet spot on my jeans, as well – which is exactly what happened.  

 

Part Eight

 

It was clear we needed to shut up for a while.  We simply stared at each other and the electricity between us was palpable.  The little pup was gorgeous – all suited up with expensive cufflinks, shoes that probably cost more than my truck, and a blue pin-striped suit that was so impeccably made I didn’t think I’d have him take it off even if we were to have sex right there in his office.  He was staring at me with the same kind of lustful eyes as me.  

 

“I gotta have you, man,” I said – staring into his eyes.

 

“Do I have a choice?” he responded.

 

“Always . . . you know that. But give me the sign that you’re mine and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about a single thing for the rest of your life,” I said with a tone that was both serious and inviting.

 

“I was just teasing, sir. I know I have a choice.  We both know there are a few more things we need to sort out before this thing between us is signed on the dotted line.  You know, I went to one of your construction sites today – to chat with one of your crews so I could get an idea of what kind of guy you are outside of a big-man bar,” he confessed – and the look on my face made it clear that I was both surprised and pleased.

 

“Yeah?  What did you find out?” I asked.

 

“All of them said you were the most fair boss they’d ever have and they loved working for you.  A few even said they’d been with you for over thirty years.  One guy was hilarious – he just kept talking about how ‘fucking’ strong you were and I could tell he was getting excited,” he said, smiling at the last part.  

 

“That would be Damien. You must have gone to the site a few blocks from here.  Yeah, he’s a muscle whore.  He makes me show off every time I come to the yard.  He’s such a strength junkie,” I replied.

 

“I could tell.” Bradley responded.

 

“You find out anything else?” I asked.

 

“Yeah, you’re respected. That’s what I had gone to find out. Your crew respects the hell out of you,” he said – and I heard a definite tone of approval.  

 

Bradley had surprised me – something that didn’t happen very often.  He had taken the initiative to find out more about me.  He had said he wanted to know me outside of the habitat of a dark bar where big men cruise little guys.  He was making sure I wasn’t one of those muscle daddies that said all the right things, but when it came to a relationship I turned into some kind of tyrant that belittled or, even worse, abused my pup.  It wouldn’t have been enough for me to tell him I was a straight up kind of guy – he needed to find out for himself.  That’s probably what made Bradley such a successful businessman. 

 

“Funny, I asked the two beefy security guards what they thought of you,” I told him.

 

“Of course you did. And what did you find out?” he asked.

 

“That you stop by every day to chat with them, which they appreciate very much, by the way,” I replied. “You also sometimes bring them doughnuts.  That’s calories, little man.”  

 

“They’re both fit as hell, sir.  I don’t think I’m ruining their figure,” he replied.

 

“So . . . you’ve noticed their muscles, have you,” I said, standing up and moving towards him and wedging my big body between his legs.  

 

“How could I not . . . sir?” he replied – and I felt his cock hardening against my crotch.

 

“Hmmmmm . . . and how do they compare to me?’ I teasingly asked.

 

“They’re like fleas next to you, sir.” Bradley cooed.  

 

“Oh yeah, I like the sound of that.” I said, bringing my lips down to his neck.

 

“You could squash both of them with one swat,” he said to egg me on even more.

 

“I bet you’d like to see that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Bradley?” I responded.

 

As I spoke my breath made goose bumps pop up all over his neck – and probably the rest of his body. As soon as my tongue hit skin he sucked in air loudly and immediately stopped speaking.  His hands instantly traveled up my thick forearms and quickly rested on my bulging biceps.  I kissed his neck silently and he groped my big arms – trying desperately to dent in the hardness.  

 

“I’m lost in you,” I whispered.

 

“That’s funny, with you it seems I’m found,” he answered softly.

 

“I’d do anything for you,” I said – and it was the most honest thing to ever cross my lips.

 

“And I’d never ask for anything you didn’t want first, sir,” he replied – just like an obedient pup.    

 

It’s a powerful thing to know that you could easily make a man submit to you and yet you still wait for his permission to dominate him.  I was so much bigger and stronger than Bradley it would have taken almost no strength at all to force him to do anything I wanted him to.  There was a part of me that wanted to grab the little man and manipulate his body and his will for my own pleasure.  I called this part of myself “The Beast.”  Being a true muscle daddy meant that I had learned how to control The Beast.  Throughout the ages many men – Neanderthals, Vikings, gladiators, rednecks – had let The Beast take over their lives.  These men were never satisfied and it was mainly because they never found true companionship.  It is only when you can tame The Beast and wait for permission to dominate that the connection with someone else becomes so intimate that complete satisfaction happens. A true muscle daddy knows this. It’s very difficult to reach this point, though, to finally be strong enough and smart enough to not give into the needs of The Beast.  There are certainly times when The Beast can be released – lifting at the gym, when three or four men pick a fight with you, and during intense sex – but learning to control that part of you is what separates us from the animals.  I wanted to grab Bradley’s shoulders, lift him off the desk, and then press down with so much power that his legs would buckle and he’d end up on his knees, the perfect position for me to stuff his mouth with my hard throbbing meat.  I’d then face-fuck him so hard that he’d pass out from our mutual explosions.  I, however, knew how to control this desire – to not give into actions that would give me immediate pleasure, yes, but would not create an enduring relationship with this man that had now entranced me so. I wanted Bradley more than I wanted immediate gratification.  A muscle daddy learns to control his body and his desires.  He knows this will ultimately bring about a deeper and more fulfilling satisfaction.  I had a feeling this little man in front of me was that ultimate prize for me.  He made it easy for me to control The Beast. I could sense that Bradley understood this.

 

“I almost want you to just take me, now,” he knowingly whispered.

 

“As you say, it’s not time,” I replied.  

 

“It seems the strength of your will matches that of your body, sir,” he said.

 

“The perfect pup is worth the wait,” I answered, knowing full well the word would make his cock twitch. “I’m strong enough to wait for something as good as you.” 

 

When exactly does lust turn into love.  When does a muscle daddy move from just wanting to plow the ever-living daylights out of a little fella to the point of wanting him to become his pup?  A pup is so much more than a toy.  A toy is just there for pleasure.  A toy serves a purpose, for sure.  It helps the muscle daddy to get his rocks off and usually it means multiple times in one night.  There is, however, no long-term commitment with a toy.  You simply play with it until it becomes boring or worn out. Most boy-toys don’t even realize they’ll never reach pup status.  They actually think you can work up to being a pup, like you might advance in an office. It doesn’t work that way, though. You have to come into a relationship already at pup status.  There were many times I took little guys home even though I knew there was no chance in hell they were ready to be my pup – I was just basically using them to bust out a giant wad.  Most of the time they knew that, too.  But always, during the night of sex and worshipping, the boy-toy falls for the muscle daddy.  It’s just the way of the world.  I’d always end up breaking hearts, but there was no way I could become entangled with someone not capable of being a true pup.  Most people think the muscle daddy turns a guy into a pup – as if he waves some magic wand.  It’s not that way.  

 

The first thing a pup has to have is potential.  A muscle daddy can sense right away whether or not a guy can be molded.  There are lots of things that can prevent a guy from being enhanced by a muscle daddy – stubbornness, stupidity, apathy, and so much more.   A true pup, however, opens himself to all possibilities – in the bedroom, in learning from his big man’s wisdom, in exploring new ways to serve and many other joyous avenues.  Bradley oozed potential.  His small frame would definitely take to building muscle like a fish takes to water, but it was his emotional potential that got me juiced the most.  The man was desperate to be controlled.  He lusted for domination much more than he desired my big body – and he desired my muscles big time.

 

“When will it be time, sir?” Bradley asked, softly.

 

“The moment you realize your heart will break if I left your side,” I replied.  

 

“That time is close,” he responded.

 

“For both of us,” I added.

 

“What makes you the one, Butch?” he pushed further.

 

“I anticipate your needs. I desire to make you happy more than I want to please myself,” I responded, truthfully.  “You are changing, too.  You are taking the required time to learn how to give up control. You are finding out what it takes to trust someone completely.  You trust no one, Bradley.  It’s the burden of being a powerful and rich man.  I have to earn that trust.  I have to prove that I would use every ounce of my strength to make sure you are safe. Your body is also getting ready – ready to submit itself to me in every way.  I will make you have orgasms you never thought were possible.  I will, however, also expand your mind and your inner strength.  In the gym I will push your body way beyond what you thought were your limits.  I will force you to stretch your muscle worship fantasies to new heights by fulfilling them one by one.  You won’t be my slave, Bradley, you’ll always have free will – but you’ll be my devotee.  You’ll want to please me as much as I please you.   You’ll want to make this muscle daddy proud as often as you can.  Making me happy can be a full-time job, boy.”

 

“I think I’m up for the challenge,” he answered.

 

“I know you are,” I shot back.

 

I tensed my entire body – making my big biceps bulge more and my chest puff out even further.  None of this was missed by the pup.  He was watching every part of me at one time. His gaze always seemed to come back to his favorite part – my arms – but he didn’t want to seem too partial.  I took some time to look at him.  I had no idea why a crisp white shirt, a fancy tie, and some butt-hugging slacks could make me so horny, but at that moment my hairy mega balls were scrunched up in edging delight.  He looked immaculate.  The clothes were clearly tailored, for they fit him like a glove.  He was like a big old chocolate bunny you got at Easter – I could have gobbled him right up.  I loved slacks because they weren’t made to hide hard-ons.  His pulsing cock was outlined against the light gray material in a way that almost left nothing about the gorgeous thing to the imagination.  I could see the perfect mushroom head, the shaft’s surprising thickness, and the substantial balls threatening to tear his expensive clothing. 

 

“That’s quite a tribute to this big old man,” I said, my head tipping in the direction of his crotch.

 

“A muscle god deserves a worthy offering,” he replied softly – knowing his words would thrill me.

 

“Could you call up those two security guards?  I need to let off some steam and beating them both at wrestling would do the trick.” I asked.

 

“That’s something I’d like to watch,” he answered, without moving.

 

“You’ll get the chance as soon as you’re under what I like to call my ‘muscle daddy’ protection,” I shot back.

 

I sometimes beat off to pictures of guys in catalogs for stores that sold preppy clothes, suits, and even tuxedos.  A well-dressed little man was like a lightning rod to my own huge tool.  I didn’t like wearing those clothes, myself, although a button down shirt pulled so tightly across my chest that you could see the buttons were about to pop off was pretty hot.  No, there was just something about a cute face, light-for-lifting body, and a firm bubbled ass decorated with form fitting, lip-smacking neat, expensive clothes that could unleash the Beast in me more than almost anything else.  I needed to live out some of my muscle daddy fantasies with Bradley – mainly to distract my mind so I wouldn’t attack him right there in his immaculate office.

 

“You have a different suit for every day of the year, don’t you,” I asked, smoothly.

 

“And then some,” he replied, knowing it would send me through the roof.  “I also have them personally pressed at my house . . . daily.”

 

When I talked about my huge muscles or what they could do, I turned on Bradley so much that he couldn’t hide his reaction or his erection.  When he talked about his clothes, his preppiness, his smallness, or his business power it did the same thing to me.  The crotch of my jeans was so tight because of my hard-on you would have thought I had an anaconda in my pants – especially because it was throbbing so noticeably.  Bradley wasn’t through with me, yet.

 

“I also wear silk pajamas,” he softly said.

 

“Fuuuuuuccckkk,” I growled and suddenly I was worried I might lose control of my anaconda.  

 

“And I have a warm, comfortable robe for every night of the week,” he tauntingly added.

 

I let out a very loud growl and I was standing up in less than a second.  I grabbed him by the waist with my huge hands and lifted him high in the air above my head before he could even blink.  I immediately started walking around the office to calm myself down. I needed to show him my power to even out our playing cards – to show him that I could toy with him as easily as he could with me.  I looked up into his shocked, but thrilled face – staring down at me.  I had moved as quickly as a jaguar – something he didn’t expect from someone so big.  I had also raised his body into the air with such little effort he had instantly been reminded of my true strength – my ability of true domination.  This is the reaction I had wanted.  I needed him to know I could always take back the reins of control no matter how turned on he made me.  Then, like a lightning flash I realized this entire exchange had been another test.  His face now had the kind of smile that confirmed this revelation.  He had wanted to make sure I couldn’t be forced to lose control.  He needed to know that his big muscle daddy would always be in charge – even of his own big body.  This knowledge made me tense my arms, tighten my grip at his sides, and start lifting his body up and down in the air as I continued to walk around his big office. 

 

“You want to slam me against the wall, don’t you, big man?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

 

“Yes, but I would never hurt you.  I want to do it only to show you my power,” I replied.  “You need to know I’m always in control of my huge body . . . my will . . . my emotions.”

 

“Yes,” he said, knowing we understood each other in a way absolutely no one else would understand.

 

“Maybe I’ll just rip that crisp shirt off of your body and turn it into shreds,” I answered – still holding him in the air.

 

“No you won’t.  It turns you on to much,” he replied.

 

“You know me so well,” I said.

 

“We know each other so well,” he softly answered.

 

I stopped walking and we just stared into each other’s arm.  We were now teetering on that deep abyss called love.  We both knew that soon and very soon we would join hands and jump into that darkness with our eyes and hearts wide open – we would become muscle daddy and pup in a bond that no one or nothing could ever separate. My own heart was about to explode from desire for this gorgeous young pup.  I wanted to fill his every waking hour with pure muscle joy – like a good older muscle daddy should.  He completely understood how smitten I was, because he felt the same way, too.  Our moment of intimacy was interrupted by a woman’s voice.

 

“Mr. Smithson, do I need to call security?” his secretary asked.

 

“Not unless you want to watch them be easily defeated,” Bradley said without taking his eyes from mine.

 

“I heard something like the cry of a wild animal, sir,” she added.

 

“That was just my big friend, here, getting excited as we worked out the details of a big merger,” Bradley responded – still staring at me.

 

“Shall I draw up so papers, sir?” she asked.

 

“No, this is the kind of merger that is sealed in a much more intimate way and place than in a boardroom full of lawyers.  You might want to start looking at china patterns for me, though.” Bradley confessed – and the surprising information was not lost on Sarah.  Her response immediately told me she was very good at her job, but, then, I never doubted Bradley wouldn’t have the best.

 

“I know some excellent wedding planners, sir,” Sarah said, and both Bradley and I turned to see her big smiling face before she turned and left the office.

 

I immediately set the young handsome man down on the floor, noticing he was a little unstable merely because he had already gotten used to being held in the air.  I took a step back.  The word ‘wedding’ had made all of this emotion . . . all of this lust . . . all of this desire instantly real.  I was suddenly a little dazed and confused.  Bradley sensed all of this.  He simply stepped forward, grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled, and was thankful that I bent over.  He then kissed me gently, passionately, and lovingly.  Instantly, my mind was clear and that one-point focus returned.  His kiss made my body invincible.   He made me feel like Superman.  My muscle daddy-ness came roaring back into my body with a force so strong I had a feeling I could twist a bunch of iron girders into a bouquet for him.  He pulled his face back and looked me in the eyes with a type of love I had never sensed before.  It almost brought tears to my eyes.  I knew what he was going to say before it even came out of his mouth.  I realized, instantly, that a moment as special as this would never come again.  I forced my humongous body and mind to be fully present – so I’d remember how all of this felt for the rest of my life.

 

“I need you to be my muscle daddy, Butch,” Bradley said with more love than I knew was possible.  “I don’t ever want to take another breath without you by my side.  I offer you my heart, knowing you’ll protect it as if it were your own.  I want you to help me to give up control.”

 

I knew I didn’t need to respond with words.  A man like Bradley needed actions.  I raised my right arm into the most tensed biceps flex I had ever done in my entire life. I marveled at how blessed I was as the small man moved his face toward my big gun.  When his lips met my hard muscle my body shook with incredible joy, my heart was filled with a love that couldn’t be explained, and my mind became completely jammed with only thoughts of Bradley.  I instinctively knew to cup the back of his head with my other big paw and push his face into my big biceps even harder.  I was sealing our muscle daddy – pup pact with a loving, but domineering action.  It was what Bradley needed me to do.  I was still – and would always be – a muscle daddy, no matter how much I loved the young man.  That’s how he needed it to be. That’s what he wanted more than anything.  I slowly brought my big arms down and wrapped them around the gorgeous man of my dreams.  I lifted him off the ground in a tight, powerful bear hug.  I surrounded him with muscle, but, even more so, I surrounded him with my daddy-ness.  The end. 

 

×

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.