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Chapter Two - My Turn I barely remember the ten minute drive home but once inside the safety of my house I collapsed on the floor and started to sob. How could I be aroused by such an evil person? I got up and made it to the bathroom and started the shower. I purposely didn’t look at myself in the mirror. I was so ashamed of myself. As the hot water ran over my skin I finally started to relax. Flashes of Carl being dominated and humiliated by Bruce kept creeping into my mind. Then it wasn’t Carl I was thinking about. I only pictured Bruce. His massively hulking body lifting insane amounts of weights. Sweat puddling on the floor as he pushed his already massive body to new limits of growth. Minutes passed before I snapped out of my daydream only to discover that I was stroking my cock. My heart leap but I couldn’t stop jerking. I closed my eyes again and pictured Bruce hitting that terrifying most muscular pose just inches from my face. I could practically see the blood being pumped through the countless veins that covered every inch of his body. Less than ten strokes later, I sprayed a massive load of hot cum all over the side of the shower. I stepped out of the shower and caught my reflection in the mirror. I caressed my wet, smooth hard pecs and smiled. Maybe it wasn’t Bruce as much as his size that was getting me off. That thought brought some comfort to my racing mind. “That must be the reason” I muttered. “I could never be attracted to an asshole like that.” It was true that the larger I became, the more mass I wanted for myself. In the last two years I had become obsessed with getting bigger. I still remember the turning point years ago when I decided that enough was enough. I joined the gym on my 34th birthday and never looked back. While I had been making good gains, I was still nowhere near as big as I wanted to get. The more I thought about this, the more relaxed I started to feel. It wasn’t Bruce I wanted, it was his size. I feel asleep that night thinking about what being 332lbs of massive, superhuman would feel like. When I woke up the next day, I chalked the pervious day up as just a fluke, brought on by my desire to get bigger. For the next three weeks my workouts were amazing; I had even gained another five pounds of new muscle. I was also fortunate to not run into Bruce again. Maybe his final humiliation would be the last time I ever laid eyes on the beast…until today. --- If I was impressed by my own weight gain recently, Bruce looked to have tripled my gains. Three weeks ago he reached an astounding 332lbs but seeing him across the gym I would have guessed he’d added 15 more pounds for pure muscle. I did my best not to let Bruce’s presence derail my workout. I settled into a pretty good chest workout only flinching every time I heard Bruce let out a loud grunt or when he slammed heavy weights down. I tried not to look in his direction but I couldn’t help but glance over at him as he flaunted his growing body for the whole gym to see. I was also encouraged by the fact that as obnoxious as he was; he did not seem to be tormenting anything today. That was of course until I accidentally made eye contact with him. I had just racked my final bench press set an sat up on the bench. I lifted my head and Bruce’s hulking frame was directly across from me. He was using the bench press rack opposite me. He had just racked his weight and sat up at the exact same time. Terror overtook my body as our eyes meet. A cocky grin crept across Bruce’s face and he clasped his hands together and his upper body started to swell. He leaned forward causing his vein-covered shoulders to erupt with the deepest striations I’d ever witnessed. His thick meaty traps rose to suffocate his pillar-thick neck. As his already inhumanly massive arms reached full flex, there wasn’t a part of his upper body that still resembled what was considered human. I remember thinking LOOK AWAY but was unable to do so. It was at that moment Bruce stood up and started to move towards me. I froze in terror as the massive freak stood over my trembling body. “Good set?” I heard him ask. Too scared to look up, I just nodded my head. Suddenly I felt his enormous hand cup my chin and force my head up to meet his manic stare. He let go of me, knowing I wasn’t stupid enough to look away. I stared at a wall of flesh and veins that eclipsed everything else around me. Involuntarily the massive man’s pumped pecs twitched and flexed. Deep, sweaty cuts appeared on every inch of exposed skin. “Bet you wish you had pecs like this.” He said and turned his body 90 degrees. With a grunt he positioned his hands and started to hit a side-chest pose. Instantly, his body inflated. His already blood-engorged chest tripled in size. The overdeveloped muscles contorted and solidified inches from my face. His chest ballooned to it’s maximum size, causing his chin to rest between their deep cleavage. As if sensing my thoughts, he relaxed slightly and repositioned himself. To my utter disbelief, his chest grew even bigger. He literally transformed himself before my eyes from a being so huge, any professional bodybuilder would be envious of to something entirely inhuman. Deep separations between each muscle group tightened as every space and gap filled with hard, powerful muscle. I could see his entire body tremble to display his superior mass and conditioning. It was at his full flex that he glanced down between my legs. He stopped posing and a huge grin came over his face. “Holy shit! Looks like someone has a crush on Bruce’s big muscles.” I covered my raging hard-on instantly but it was too late. A new level of terror overtook me. “Hey everyone! Looks like this little faggot has a crush on me!” Bruce yelled so the entire gym could hear. Desperate to get away, I tried to stand up but with seemly little effort, Bruce pushed my back down on the bench. “Well little man. If you like this body so much, why don’t I give you a real show” Bruce said with a chuckle and took a few steps back. With one fluid motion, he stripped off his skin-tight shirt and tossed it aside. He then grabbed the waist band of his baggy shorts and pulled them past his ridiculously massive quads. He stood straight up, exposing his nearly naked body. Underneath his clothes he wore a bright blue pair of underwear that left nothing to the imagination. I was aware my mouth was open and tears we running down my face but I could do nothing to stop it. “You think this 67” chest is huge? Check out the rest of this 340lb BEAST.” He bellowed. Bruce planted his feet and started to flex. Displaying inconceivable muscle control, he started to flex individual body parts. It was obvious which parts he was flexing as they visible tripled in size instantly. He began with his calves. Like the day with Carl; each calf muscle mutated into rock hard muscle and thick, snake-like veins. “25 inches.” Bruce said as he reached full flex “Biggest calves on the fucking planet.” he said. Then his quads sprang to life. I swear there was an audible rumble as the thick muscles started to expand. Once again, Bruce’s muscle control was incredible. The separate muscle groups of his quads seemed to flex independent of each other. Un-flexed, they hung over his relatively tiny knee joints. With a grunt, they flexed to impossible density and raw power. Veins always criss-crossed their surface but when flexed the display was downright frightening. Through gritted teeth Bruce muttered “38 inches”. In the distance I heard someone stifle a scream. As impossibly massive as Bruce was, he still maintained an incredibly balanced physique. The sweep pf his quads was text book perfect and somehow made him look even larger than he clearly already was. With a primal growl the monstrous freak standing two feet way raised his bloated arms and somehow tucked them behind his brick-hard abs. He dropped his shoulders and started to expand his lats. At first nothing happened, with the exception of his traps and shoulders engulfing his head, then suddenly his lats sprang into action. Within seconds he looked to be as wide as he was tall. Thick, dense, piles of muscle exploded from each side. Momentarily there was a gap between his arms and back but quickly that disappeared as his lats spread even further. When I thought the flex had hit it’s apex, Bruce did the impossible. He gritted his teeth and let out a roar that shook the walls of the gym. I couldn’t contain my reaction and let our a loud whimper. Bruce’s massive form morphed right before my eyes. Every pro-bodybuilder I’d even seen online, every fantasy I ever had thinking of growing bigger and bigger, even the photoshopped pictures I’ve viewed hundreds of time paled in comparison to what I was witnessing. Every inch of the behemoth’s body was flexed to it’s maximum. Veins visibly throbbed and sweat was literally pouring off him. Even his face was covered in a network of veins. The sight was too much for most people to handle. To say that Bruce looked grotesque was an understatement. He no longer looked human. Instead he was nothing but one massive wall of quivering muscle. Bruce was visibly struggling to hold the epic flex but somehow managed to fight through he pain. Even more surprising, he was able to speak one word directed at me. “C-C-CUM!” he screamed. At that moment I lost all control of my body. It was as if I was watching myself from above. Unable to contain my reaction to the sight in front of me I felt my body convulsing. I remember feeling the sensation of wetness running down my leg but I could not take my eyes of Bruce’s body. Only when he finally relaxed the pose could I look down and see that I had sprayed a bucket of cum onto the gym floor; without touching myself. I looked back at Bruce who was breathing heavy and laughing at me. “Looks like the little faggot couldn’t handle all this muscle.” I was suddenly aware of what had just happened and that all eyes were on me. I was completely modified and jumped off the bench and started to run towards the front door. I remember stumbling a couple of times as my brain could not control my feet. By the time I reached my car I was crying uncontrollably. I don’t remember the drive home but I remained in my driveway for close to an hour sobbing before mustering the strength to go inside. I took the following week off of work. I was too embarrassed and depressed to face the world. But as my hurt feeling faded a new emotion started to take over - rage. I was no longer mesmerized by Bruce’s massive body; I was disgusted by the evil person he was. The more I dwelled on what happened at the gym, more focused I became. Sure, I spent a few days in bed feeling sorry for myself but the rest of time away from society I became obsessed. I was determined to enact revenge on Bruce and wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop me.

Everything in that moment seemed to happen in slow motion. A sudden, intense panic took over. I jumped, threw the trunks back in the drawer and turned to find Liam “The Guns" Watson in his mint green vest, and all two hundred plus pounds of his insanely huge muscle filling up his bedroom doorframe. A look of utter confusion sat on his achingly gorgeous face. “Were you ... sniffing my posers?!” OH GOD. This can’t be happening. This can NOT be happening. “NO!” I cried, instinctively. But as soon as I said it, I knew it was ridiculous. He’d caught me red fucking handed. I sighed. “I mean. Yes!” I confessed, completely surprising myself. Liam was still looking confused. “Why?!” he asked. He didn’t seem angry. More just baffled. My brain went into overdrive as I tried to think of a conceivable explanation as to why I was standing uninvited in a bodybuilder’s bedroom sniffing a pair of his posing trunks. But there wasn’t one. There was only one possible explanation. Only one thing to do. I had to tell Liam the truth. I winced, closed my eyes, scared of what I was about to say, but knowing I had to say it anyway, and then just blurted it out. “Because I love posing trunks!” I opened my eyes, a strange relief coming over me. “You ... love posing trunks?” Liam repeated, his eyebrows furrowed. I nodded, feeling sheepish and nervous, but also strangely elated. “I guess ... I sort of have a thing for them?!” “Huh!” Liam replied. “What kind of a thing?” he asked, folding his huge arms across his chest so they bulged and popped to an outrageous degree (FUCK)! He was still confused, but it didn’t seem like he was judging me. More than anything, he just seemed curious. “Ummmm…” I began, not really knowing how to explain. “I guess, like, how some people are into ... sexy underwear?” Sexy underwear they wanna wear under their jeans to Tesco. Sexy underwear they wanna sit in at home and spunk a huge creamy load into while watching a bodybuilding blowing up his nickname earning biceps on their laptops! SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT! “Oh right!” he exclaimed. “So it’s like ... a fetish?” “I guess,” I sheepishly said, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. It’s funny, because I’ve never really thought of my love for shiny posers as being a fetish, but I guess that was probably the easiest way for Liam to have understood it. “Are other people into this?” he asked. “Yeah! I mean, it’s pretty rare. But yeah … there are others,” I replied, thinking about the fellow trunk lovers I’d spoken to on muscle blogs, via email, and on Twitter, who go just as bonkers over a pair of shiny colourful, glute hugging trunks as I do. “What is it about them?!” Oh God. “Erm … I dunno. The shape. The look. The material. Everything really!” I explained, surprising myself at how honest and detailed I was being. The whole situation was incredible surreal. I couldn’t quite believe what was happening. I’d just been caught sniffing a pair of posing trunks by the very bodybuilder who owned them and now I was confessing that they turned me on. I was scared, nervous, aroused and excited. All at fucking once. And then Liam said something which invoked another emotion; complete and utter surprise. “Huh!” he began, still with his obscenely huge arms folded across his chest; the veins popping through the hairless, bronzed tinted skin struggling to contain the pure mass it was covering. “Well, mate, this is a new one on me, but ... I think I kinda get it!” What. The. FUUUUUCCCKKK!! I was gob smacked. Completely and utterly speechless. What the fuck was going on?! “I mean ... I’m not into them the same way you are, “ Liam began. “But I do love my posing trunks. I mean … you can probably see that for yourself.” As he said this he gestured to the still open drawer containing his posing trunk collection. “There’s definitely something about them,” he confessed. “I usually just wear them for when I’m posting pictures on the Internet. And for competitions obviously. But sometimes ... I think about wearing them just for fun.” OH MY FUCKING GOD!! “I don't really know why”, Liam continued. “It’s kind of like an urge. Instead of wearing boxers, I sometimes think about just popping some shiny trunks on and going down to the shops with them on under my jeans …” PANT PANT FUCKING PANT!! “Is that mad?!” he asked, grinning slightly. “Ummmm …” I replied, wanting to tell him that actually YES - it was a tiny bit bonkers. But also just about the sexiest thing he could have possibly fucking said to me. “Wow! So you must have thought you’d struck gold when you found my trunks in your washing?" he asked, with a cheeky smile. My cheeks suddenly reddened but I couldn’t help but smirk back. “Ummm ... kinda,” I replied, feeling like a giddy teenager in the presence of a boy he had a secret crush on. “So ... I gotta ask. Why d’ya give ‘em back?” Ooooh … errrmm, I dunno. To meet the huge, gorgeous muscle bull who’d made me spunk something fucking rotten (IN his own fucking posers) by blowing up his ginormous guns for the camera. “It kinda just felt like the right thing to do,” I lied. Liam’s mouth curled into an adorable grin, and when I saw those cute little dimples emerge on his cheeks, I felt a stab of guilt that I hadn’t been completely honest with him. I decided to balance this out by telling him a truth. It was probably good that this was said so hastily in my attempt to ease my conscious, because if I’d have thought it through before hand, I probably wouldn’t have said it. “Plus ... I guess I just wanted to meet you,” I said, blushing furiously. “Ahhhh. Mate!” Liam replied bashfully, but smirking in a way that one does when they’ve just been thrown a compliment. “You know, that’s one part of being well known on the bodybuilding scene that I can’t get used to,” Liam began. “People that I don’t know wanting to meet me. Talk to me even. It’s happening more and more since I started “The Guns” nickname. I mean, it’s awesome. And flattering. But ... I’m just a lad who likes to lift things …” Liam “The Guns” Watson - marry me NOW! “… and stomp around stages in shiny, tiny posers, obviously,” he added, grinning. Hold that thought. I’m just gonna spunk in my boxers first. FUCKING HELL!! “So, I take it you have your own posing trunk collection?” Liam asked. I couldn’t help but smirk at this. Just the fact that a bodybuilder was asking me if I owned posing trunks in such a casual manner was both absurd, and fucking incredible. “Erm … no actually!” I replied. “I don't even have one pair!” “Why not?” Liam asked. “I dunno!” I was still smirking, trying to wonder whether I was actually having this conversation, or whether someone was about to come along and pinch me to wake me up. “I guess I’ve always been worried I’ll look a little silly in them,” I replied, honestly. “You could definitely pull them off!” he exclaimed. I grinned even more as Liam’s eyes, once again, focused on my upper arms. Of all the things that had happened at Liam’s flat up until that moment, nothing was as surprising as what the gorgeous muscle bull in front of me did next. He looked at his open drawer, which contained what had to be one of the hottest and most impressive collection of posers in the country, if not the fucking world. His eyes then fell on me again, and he seemed to contemplating something. Battling with himself, even, over whether he should say what he was thinking. He then shook his head to himself and firmly said, “Fuck it! Take ‘em!” Completely confused, I stood there looking at Liam. He signalled to the open drawer. “Take the red trunks.” Ermm. Huh! WHAT?!! “I owe you one for bringing my special blue ones back. So you can have the red ones. I probably have way too many pairs anyway.” What. The. Actual. Fuckety. Fucking. FUCK?! I was dumbfounded. Not only had Liam been unbelievably cool and calm with the fact that he’d not only caught me in his bedroom uninvited, but with a pair of his posers shoved in my face, not to mention my confession that I secretly got the horn for shiny posers, but he was now actually gifting me said posing trunks. Right there in that moment, looking at the insanely gorgeous muscle freak before me, tanned and bulging out of his mint green vest while his outrageously hot Mohawk sat on his insanely hot head, I swear, diary, I actually fell a little bit in love with him. “Are you sure?” I tentatively asked, hoping and praying that the answer would be “YES.” “Take ‘em before I change my mind,” he said. I reached in the drawer and my cock juddered as I was, once again, instantly met with the soft, shiny fabric of posers, and pulled out the bright red ruby trunks. I blushed furiously as I awkwardly stood there with my brand new gifted posers clutched in my right hand. Liam was mischievously grinning at me. It seemed as if he was enjoying seeing me squirm. “I reckon those bad boys’ll suit you!” he said. I goofily grinned and just stood there, red faced, letting him tease me for his own enjoyment. Letting him do whatever the FUCK he wants to me. “Well, thanks again for bringing my trunks back to me, mate! And I hope, ummmm ... I lived up to the bodybuilder on the Instagram profile?” he said, slightly bashfully. “God yeah!” I enthusiastically replied, without hesitation. Liam chuckled. “I hope “The Guns” lived up to it too!” he added, with a devilish grin. “Definitely!” I replied, feeding his ego. With the surrealism of enjoying friendly banter with a bodybuilder about the size of his biceps, I suddenly felt a surge of confidence. I didn’t think there was anything he could have said, or done, to make me blush even more at that point, so I reasoned I had nothing left to lose. “I loved that front double bicep shot you posted last weekend!” I said. “Oh yeah?” Liam replied. “That was a popular one!” And then with one swift movement, Liam instructing me take his ruby red posing trunks suddenly wasn’t the greatest moment of our encounter.

Ginger 1 and Ginger 2 or G1 and G2, as I call them as I could never keep them straight, and I think they like it that way. We lay entangled on the bed, one on each side me, each nuzzled against my side. G1, on my right, with an arm draped over my chest, playing with my dark blonde chest hair, pulling at my nipple every once in a while, licking at some drying cum. G2 laying soft wet kisses to my upper left rib cage. Their legs enmeshed with mine, and sweaty after our recent session. They both continued to move their legs around, rubbing against my hairless legs, hitting my ball sac and dick once in a while, hoping I’d respond somehow. My right arm caressing G1’s back, stroking his lower back, down towards his firm ass. A light coating of sweaty ginger hair making my fingers slip and glide over the area. My left arm tucked behind my head so my bicep is flexed and available if G2 decides to move on to something different. I nudge G2’s head, he looks up, sees my bicep, and licks his lips, then scooches up. Even after the fun we just had over the past hour, these two seem to be insatiable, but I’m just toying with them, waiting for my strength to return, so I can get back into the show and give them a second round they won’t soon forget. Now, I’m 6’2”, 235, gym rat, strong as fuck, blonde hair, grey eyes, and a nice coating of chest hair. I don’t bother to trim it, but keep the rest of my body hair free. I like to keep my chest hair as a surprise for when I meet up with a guy and they think I’m smooth. But, these two were a treat. I eventually found out they planned on trying to put a fast one by me, by making it seem there was only one of them. I’m in the process of getting them back for it. I saw G1 in the gym one day. He’s about 6’, 190, great build, and found out he is stronger than I thought he’d be. There was something in the way he looked at me with his hazel eyes that made me just walk over and stand behind the flat bench to spot him. I doubt he would have needed the help as he seemed confident he could push the 285 around with ease, but he appreciated the help. He also appreciated the view up my shirt, when he laid down, to my flat abs and muscled pecs as he licked his lips. He stopped staring, his eyes grew intense and he pushed the bar up and proceeded to grind out 8 reps at nice even pace. On the ninth rep he started to falter. I put my hands under the bar to help, but he grunted angrily and I moved them away. He arched his back to the fullest it would go, pushed out a spit laden breath, and shoved the weight up. He blinked and I helped him re-rack the bar. Dude had some strength. I’d have to get his name at some point. There was sweat pouring off his head, onto his neck, and down into his t-shirt. Then I noticed the ginger hair and how curly it was and I nicknamed him Ginger in my head. I wanted to reach my hand into it and just play with the curls. I was getting hard just thinking about the fun I could have with him. He gave me his thanks and proceeded to wipe the bar and bench off and walk away. What the fuck just happened. Nobody walks away from me, yeah, I know, cocky sounding SOB here, but I’m really not. Just a persona for the gym boys. I stare after him and watch that tight ass move away. I start to pitch a tent. A few days later, I’m at the gym again and I see Ginger walk right on by, as if I were invisible. He walks back to the flat bench and starts his set. I stand there thinking it’s a bit weird to do a second round of chest right on the heels of the first round, but you know, everyone has a plan. Let him have at it. I start my set of bicep curls using a straight bar with 25lb weights on each side to start, going light tonight. I rattle off a set of 10, rest for 30 seconds, and then do another 10. Good warm up set. I glance over to Ginger and see he’s up to 185 and moving along like a champ. I toss and another 10 to each side and decide to take my time. I want to be fresh if he looks for help again. I curl out another two sets and switch up to 2 25lb weights on each side. I glance into the mirror to check my form and notice he is looking at me. He wasn’t giving me the ‘come spot me’ look from a few days ago and it kind of bothered me. Who was this guy and was he giving me the brush off? Again, what the fuck. He gets up, ups the weight to 285 and I think, here it comes, the look to come spot him. I’ll get him by ignoring him. I stand there and, as casually as I can, turn towards him, but look past him. He grins at me, almost laughs, lays back down and proceeds to rattle off 10 reps. He racks the bar, gets up, wipes the bar and bench off, and walks by me. He says, “You’re going to catch some flies keeping your mouth open like that.” I am dumbfounded. What just happened? I am tempted to follow him, trap him in a corner, lift him up by his armpits and shake him around a bit. Need to show him who the boss is and that I’ve got the muscles to back up what I say. By the time I come out of it, he has started his next exercise. Ginger proceeds with his chest routine, barely giving me a glance. I try to put him out of my head, but every time I turn around, he is just in my range of view. I’m not sure if he is doing it on purpose or it’s just a coincidence. I move from the straight bar bicep curls to lateral shoulder lifts and some squats. I know, I know, concentrate on one or two body parts a day (legs or chest or arms), and don’t go with a pansy workout of hitting a lot of body parts all on the same day. But this kid, and I wasn’t even sure how old he was, was under my skin and it was bothering the fuck out of me. I need to calm down. I head to the bathroom, lock the door, and yank off a quick load. It eases my mind. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you think of it, the mental image I was focusing on was me tossing Ginger around and fucking him silly. A few days later, Thursday night, leg night for me. Back to my routine. Ignore Ginger if he shows up. Plan in place. Start on a leg extension machine, move to a quad curl machine, onto incline leg presses. My legs are pumped I feel like they could crush watermelons between them, or some punks head, if he gets on my nerves, and then he shows up. I ignore him, but he settles into the full rack machine next to me and starts doing squats. Dammit, why does he have to do legs on my leg day? I stare at my machine, 6 plates on each side, easy set coming up. I polish off 10 reps. I reach up to pull myself up and he leans over and says, “Not bad”. I ignore him. Yeah, dick move, but I act like I in full workout mode. He shrugs and adds another 45lb to each side his bar. Up to 90lb a side and the bar itself, 225, not too bad. He gives me the can you spot me look and I glance away, but them realize I’ve taken it too far. The kid is asking for help, just suck it up and help him. I turn back and nod yeah. He nods. We get into position and he pushes out a solid 10 reps and racks the bar. He turns and nods again in thanks. Ok, ice broken, he’s not a dick as I thought. I go back to my routine and he moves on with his. About 15 minutes later, I’m doing deadlifts and notice he is back in the full rack machine and is loading up the bar again. I’m completely puzzled. I wander over and ask, “Doing another set after the ones you pushed out earlier?” He looks at me and says, “Just got here buddy.” I stare at him for a long moment, muscles start to tense up, biceps twitch, and my chest tightens, and the feeling of needing to show him whose boss pops into my head. “Can I help you with something?” he casually asks. Then I hear a similar voice behind me say, “If he can’t, maybe I can.” I turn to see his spitting image. Ok... Twins… Fuckers. I turn back to the first one and he gives me a mischievous grin. G1 walks next to him and gives me the exact same grin. I start to laugh out load. A bunch of guys stop their routine and turn to look at me to see what’s so funny. We exchange names and I tell them I’ll just call them G1 and G2. They laugh and say ok. I find out they are in their mid-twenties, have good jobs, and like to be with each other as much as being with other guys. They explain they saw me a few weeks ago and hatched a plan to get my attention and to act as if there were only one of them. They’d run hot and cold towards me to see how I reacted. Once they got me riled up, they’d come clean. I tell them G2 almost got the shit kicked out of him for his antics. They laugh and I thought to myself, I’m going to have a lot of fun these two. That was 2 months ago. We decided to become workout partners, or a workout trio?!? They indicated they were looking to get stronger and I agreed to help them. I also told them I would not take it easy on them and if they expected to make some gains, they’d have to work at harder than they were used to. They both agreed. I gave them all the workout tips I knew and if I did not know something, I researched it and showed them what I’d found. They really appreciated all the help and were always asking what they could do for me. I told them working out together was the best thing they could do for me. It pushed me to new heights and made me rethink my workout plan as now I was planning for 3 – or 2 as I counted them as one. LOL Earlier tonight we met at the gym and were going to do an intense bicep workout. I planned on giving them a show afterwards as a surprise. We started off with Incline dumbbell hammer curls, 25lb, 35lb, 45lb weights. They kept up. All biceps getting a nice early pump and sheen from the sweat we break. Next was Incline Inner-bicep curls, 25lb, 35lb, and 45lb. G1 and G2 are powering thru it like beasts. They stood next to each other and gave encouragement and would act as spotter. I would point out adjustments to form or movement so they were getting the most out of the exercise. Onto standing concentration dumbbell curls. Same weights. They were keeping up which was good. I wanted them to push themselves thru the workout. Only way to get stronger and bigger is to push yourself. I ask them how they’re doing and they say fine. I ask them to flex and they both throw impressive double bi’s. I toss mine up and they nod with approval. I can tell they want to reach out and touch the muscles. I squeeze for an extra second and they keep on staring at the muscles. Next was the EZ bar curl. I used a 45 bar with 35lb weights. They used a 45lb bar with 25lb weights. This is where I moved ahead of them. Second set we all added 10lbs to each side. Last set, I added a 25lb weight to each side and they added another 10 to each side. I’m curling 185 and they’re at 135. Not too bad, but I’ll get them higher. They’re each sweating profusely and their t-shirts are becoming soaked thru. I can see G1’s nipples and that G2 tends to shave his chest more religiously then G1. Exercise # 5 is a wide grip standing barbell curl. I start at 115lb again. They move down to a 35lb bar and put 25lb on each side. 85lb is pretty good, especially after the workout we’ve already had. We power thru it. I toss another 10lbs on each side and goad them into doing the same. If you want the muscles, pay the price I tell them. Last set, I pull the 10’s and put another 25 on each side. They add 10’s to each side. I’m pulling 165 and they’re at 125. I playfully mock them saying I’m almost curling one of them right now while the two of them are barely getting me off the ground. They grin and both lick their lips. Next, I move to a Zottman curl. Love this exercise as it targets the two heads on my bicep and does a great job of tearing up the muscles to let them grow. I start with 45lb, move to 55lbs, and finish with 70lbs. Ah, the pain is excruciating, but worth it. I finish the set, and move over to the mirrors. I need to check out my pump and maybe give the boys a peak at what’s to come. I start to flex unabashedly, and they gawk at me. Yeah, just what I wanted to see. They did the same exercise, but with 25’s, 35’s, and 45’s. I tell them to get over near me and show me what they’ve got. They move next to me and proceed to show off their guns. God, who thought twins could look exactly alike, even with the muscles they’ve got on them. I’m really hungering to get these guys into bed tonight. I announce last exercise and that I expect them to leave everything on the floor by the end or else. I say this with my meanest psycho maniacal voice, literally spitting on them. They look petrified as I’ve never been this ruthless with them. Then I wink and give them a crooked smile. They laugh and wink back. I point to the Overhead cable curl and tell them to move or lose it. I make them start with 70lbs on each side. They look exhausted, but I yell, no pain, no gain. They do their sets and I move in and start with 105s on each side and kick thru 10 reps with ease. Biceps full of blood and expanding each time. I glance over to the boys and each has started to pitch a tent. I hold the last rep and flex extra hard to really make the peak pop. I start to sprout a woody as well. They move in for their next sets. I move them up to 90s and shout encouragement to push thru for 10 reps or complete failure. G1 makes it to 8, G2 gets to 10 and takes pride in letting his brother know it. I punch my weight up to 135 on each side and move thru the set like I’m in a different body. I’m watching myself and the boys in the mirror and I just muscle thru it. I think their obvious erections have influenced me. I hold the last two reps in the pulled position so everyone can stare at the biceps and how big and hard they are. I want these kids to get in the mood for later on. I slowly release the hold and the biceps are shaking as I move them back to neutral. After the final rep I give one final all out double bi pose and quickly move into a most muscular. I’m even impressing myself tonight. Full on erection going on and I’m not ashamed of it. The guys see it and glance at each other and smile. I call last set and move their weight ups to 105. I stand right behind G1 as he starts. He gets to 6 and starts to slow. I get real close, my dick almost poking him in the ass and whisper in his ear, “You get to 8 and you get a prize. You get to 10 and you get first shot at it.” As I casually look down towards my raging hard-on in the mirror. He immediately has renewed energy and pushes out another 5 reps, getting to 11. He lets go of the handles, the weights slam down, and he purposely backs into my erection. He asks, “What do I get for 11?” I say, “All 11 I have to offer.” He casually grinds his ass to my dick, completely unbothered by the fact we are in a public gym and there are a bunch of other guys watching us do our workout. G2 moves in and pushes G1 out of the way. “Any encouraging words for me?” he asks. “Yeah, get to 12 and you get to make your bro watch you go first.” G1 starts to protest, but I hold up a finger and point it at him, indicating you did your set, now it’s his turn. He angrily stands to the side. G2 starts his set and gets to 7 with ease, but really slows down. G1 yells encouragement and I move behind him and tell him to look in the mirror. He does and I flex my left bicep and proceed to lick it. His practically cums in his shorts, but manages to push out 3 more reps before dropping the handles. G1 looks on with a snarky grin, but comes over and gives G2 an honest and heartfelt high five. I can tell these guys are all about pushing each other and regardless of who does more reps or pushes more weight, nothing will come between them, not even me. I announce shower time, but not here. I explain I have a large enough tub shower unit at my place and we can relax there and recover. They both agree and follow me home. I wonder what they talked about on the ride over, if they have plan for me, like I do for them… When we get to my place, I ask who wants to shower first and they say they will. “Together?” I ask. They say, “Yeah, it saves on hot water.” They give me another mischievous grin and head off to the bathroom. I smile as their asses shake as they walk down the hallway and into the bathroom. I hear the water come on, and then I can make out both of them getting in… They conveniently leave the door open a crack. I walk down and peak in. Low and behold they are in the tub shower lathering each other up. I thought I had finally nailed down who was G1 and who was G2 based on their chest hair, and I was correct. G1 was washing G2 at this point. Man, they were putting on a show. G1 had the soap and was lathering up the G2’s legs, ass, balls, and dick. The G2 was moaning and enjoying every minute of it. He had his hands on the walls to keep his balance. Apparently not the first time G1 has helped him out after a workout. G2’s legs were more muscular than I thought and watching his brother’s hand slowly rub the soap on the muscles and gently massage his calves, thighs and quads was almost illegal. Watching G1 rub away any kinks made me spring a boner right there. He moved up the legs and stood up so he was right behind his twin. Both were sporting impressive erections and the G1 moved in behind G2 and applied a copious amount of soap and suds to his twin’s ass, really working the crack and hole. His dick leisurely bangs into G2’s ass and eventually he pushes it down, so it is between G2’s legs. He gets a slow fucking motion going on. G2 leans over a bit to give G1 a better angle and sightline. After about 3 minutes of that, G1 moves his hands around to the front of his twin and started to stroke his brother slowly. I was in heaven, but also in hell. Here were these two guys putting on a show, with me peeking in on them, and they were having all the fun. I wanted to see how far they would take it, so I stay quiet and out of sight. G1 stopped stroking the other, to my dismay, and moved up to the abs and chest area. His dick was still between G2’s legs and the fucking motion never ceased. He gave the chest and abs a thorough work over and moved on to the arms. I figured they would spend a lot of time massaging them, and I was correct. G1 worked up a good froth of soap and gently started massaging the biceps and triceps. G2 put his arms over his head and turned around so G1 could wash the armpits and underside of the arms. Now, I knew these guys were close, but when G1 moved in and gave G2 a long sensual kiss right on the lips, my mind was blown and I almost blew my load. G2 casually says, “Instead of staring, come in and help him.” I blush and slowly open the door. I ask, “How did you know I was watching?” “Um, nobody moans as loudly as you do, buddy.” G1 says while still facing G2. He turns to me and says, “Well, get your ass naked and get over here, we’re only half done.” He’s got that evil grin going on. I smile, strip like my live depends on it, and walk right to the tub shower, erection on full display. They both whistle. I step in, grab the soap and get a good lather going. I get behind G1, and push him closer to G2. I start to wash his back, while G2 takes care of his front. Plenty of soap to go around. G1 leans over to his twin and starts kissing him again. G2 cocks his head and sees me watching and wink at me. I put my muscular arms between the two of them and pull G1 back towards me. “Want your reward now for winning the Overhead bicep curl challenge?” I ask. G1 says not yet, but playfully grinds his ass into my dick, causing it to swell up a bit more. I pull him back into me harder and say with a stern voice, “What if I don’t give you a choice?” He coyly replies, “Think you can take on both of us? Because how can you be sure I’m the one who won, and not him?” I stare at him and say, “G2 takes better care of his chest hair then you do.” And I proceed to rub one hand on each of their muscular chests. I wanted to get a good grope in while I was at it and they both seemed to enjoy it as they both flexed their chests and the same time. G1 was right, if their chest hair were not different, I would not be able to tell them apart. He winks back and says, “Nice job big guy. Way to pay attention.” He looks at G2 and says, “I told you he’d find a way to tell us apart. We’ll have to work on making it harder for him.” I smile, pull on his dick and then grab G2’s dick and say, “It’s hard enough already, or should I say, you’re both hard enough already.” They both smile their evil grins, and surround me. They both put a hand on my dick and start to yank on it slowly. I tell them to hold on, but they continue. I need to assert myself. I put my hands on their chests and spread them away from me, biceps flexing, and chest expanding. They hold on for dear life, but I muscle them away. They grin again. “Rinse off and dry off now.” They comply. Once they are dry they try to help me out, but I push them away again and give them the look. They both pout, but stay back. I proceed to dry myself off, but put on quite a show. I turn around, bend over, and start at my ankles. My tight ass on display, I playfully open and shut my hole. I begin to stand up and continue drying myself off. I get to my dick, which is still hard, I turn around so I am facing them and proceed to massage it to its full length and girth. I got 4 eyes ogling my body and I enjoy it. I move thru my abs, chest, and linger on my arms, flexing them so the peaks stand out. The guys start to crowd in, and I let them now. We come together as a group, and I put my arms around them and give them a gently squeeze, just to give them an idea of what’s to come. “Bedroom now.” Again they comply. We walk to my man-cave, or bedroom. A large king-size bed dominates the room. Dark curtains make sure no one can peek in. I didn’t go for a mirror on the walls or ceiling. Just too corny. Plus I want to concentrate on the guy I’m with, not my reflection. I already know how fucking built and strong I am. Also, I want them to concentrate on me too. I want them to feel my power as I do what I want with them. So the boys are standing there, sporting erection which would put most guys to shame, and I move closer, put an arm around each of their asses, bend my knees, pull them to me, and stand up. No wobble or stumble. I stand straight the fuck up and lift these kids off the ground a good 5 inches or so. They extend their arms to steady themselves using my shoulders or biceps, but I growl “No” and they move their arms back. Kids need to see and understand my strength. I proceed to walk to the bed, toss G2 down and look at G1 and say, “It’s time for your reward, whether you like it or not.” “Yes, please.” Is all he says gazing into my eyes. His hands come up and wrap around my neck. I shrug my shoulders and pinch his arms there. He tries to move them, but I apply more pressure and give him the look saying you’re not going anywhere unless I say so. He grins to show he understands and moves in for a kiss. It is long and sloppy, wetting my mouth, tongue, and lips. I reciprocate. Our tongues are dancing with each other. I shift him around so both hands are cradling his ass. I look at G2 and tell him to go into the nightstand and pull out the box of condoms and lube. He obeys. I tell him to open one and put it on my dick. He rapidly complies, taking his time to make sure the condom is on all the way and has a nice big pouch at the top to catch my load. I tell him, “Lube up your brother’s ass, I’m sure you’ve done it once or twice before.” They both laugh. I’m still cradling G1 and he’s started massaging my arms and playing with my chest hair. I like the feel of his weight in my arms and think, I may use these guys for warm-up curls one day. I lean in for another kiss and begin to ravage his mouth. His dick gets even harder, starts spurting pre-cum, and I’m not even in him yet. He tries to pull back as I begin to get rough, but I glare at him and he lets me continue. My tongue invades his mouth, spilling saliva and spit all over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He seems to be getting into it now. Good. G2 has finished lubing his ass. I flex my bi’s, raise G1 up another few inches and flex my dick to his hole. I slowly but adamantly lower him onto my dick. His eyes grow wide when his ass feels me penetrate him. He wants to yell, but I am still kissing him and sucking the air out of him so he cannot yell. G2 is squatting behind his brother making sure my dick is sliding in nice and easy. Every once in a while he puts some lube on his hands and applies it to my shaft. G1 starts to shake a bit due to my size. I realize there is no use in harming him, so I ease up the pressure. He relaxes and his ass opens up for me some more. I release my grip and bit and let his weight lower him further down my unit. He’s almost there, but then shows a pained expression. He grunts and G2 immediately gets up and says, “You’re hurting him, pull him up a bit.” I bark, “I know what I’m doing G2, now get behind me and lick my ass.” I release my right arm from G1’s ass, grab a hold of G2 by the neck and pull him close to my face. “You want to see real strength, keep it up.” G2 grabs my wrist with both his hands and says, “If you hurt him, you’re going be sorry.” “Yeah, who’s going to do it, you?” I say as I start to lift him up. Good thing he grabbed my wrists, more support for him. His eyes get wide and I slowly put him down and nod for him to get busy with my ass. I turn back to G1, see there is still a pained expression on his face, but it has lessened. I’m not going to hurt him, but I’m not telling them that yet. I’m still getting them back for their hijinks. I know they’ll have a shit ton more fun if I’m rough with them, then if I went soft and cuddly. If they want soft and cuddly, I got a buddy I can introduce them to. Back to G1. He’s sitting down and seems to have become accustomed to my dick in him. I release my left arm from his ass and pull it behind my head and flex. He looks at it lustfully, licking his lips. I nod, and he moves his head towards it. He has wetted his lips and starts slobbering all over the face of the biceps and goes down to my armpit. He’s washing it out like a good little boy and man it feels good. I put my right hand into his curly ginger hair and finally get to play with the curls. They’re not long flowing locks, but not too short so as to keep me from having fun with them. He moans as I move my hand around. I seem to have hit another sensitive spot. Wonder if G2 is the same. I lean over slightly, spread my legs a bit, and put my right hand on G2’s head and force him into my ass crack. His tongue goes into overdrive worshiping my hole. I open and shut it as I feel his tongue play with it. At one point he darts his tongue inside when it’s open. I clamp my hole shut trapping his tongue. He feels the pressure, but still manages to maneuver his tongue while it is inside. Good boy. I rub my right hand thru G2’s hair like I did with G1. He moans the same way. Ok good. Twins to the end. Time to put this party into over drive. I lean back up, tell G2 to come around front and sit his ass down on the bed. He obeys… Good, he’s learning. I proceed to put both hands on G1’s lats. I look him in the eyes and say, “You ready for the best ride of your life?” His eyes get wide, both his arms shoot out and lock onto my biceps, and he nods yes. “Good. Here we go.” At this point I raise his ass up almost off my dick and slide him back down. His eyes roll around and his head starts to roll on his shoulders. I start to move him up and down more quickly. His hands start to increase their pressure on my biceps, but I just flex them harder. He responds by tightening his ass’s grip on my dick. I love the new found pressure, and let out a little growl, move my lips towards his, and start to kiss him again. He’s loving it. He’s now moving his ass up and down on his own, well, I’m still helping out by raising him up by his lats. Lips locked, hands locked onto my biceps, and his dick as swollen as any I’ve ever felt. Now is my time to push him over the edge. I move my hands to his waist, and start to pump him up and down like he’s my own private flesh light. He’s in heaven, I’m just breaking a sweat and G2 is whacking off vigorously. I yell at G2, “Stop. You’re not allowed to cum before him.” He obediently takes his hand off his oh so erect and swollen cock. He desperately wants to jerk it, but I turn so I can watch him. He now understands how serious I am. I turn my attention back to G1, who is gurgling and seems to be passing out. I free my left hand, wrap it around his cock, and start to jerk him off, timing my movements to match with my thrusting. He can’t take it anymore and eructs with a massive load. First shot, over my shoulder. Good boy. Second shot, my face, chin, and chest. I lick as much up as I can. Third volley coats our chests and abs. Final one, dribbles out and slides down his cock to coat his shaft and balls. His arms let go of my biceps. I walk over to the bed and pull him off me and put him down. I don’t throw him onto the bed as he is about passed out and I’m not trying to hurt them or scare them off. I looked at G2 who is still sporting a gorgeous boner, lean down, pick him right up, and start to slide him down my shaft. “I hope you’re ready for the ride of your life.” He tightens his ass just like his brother did. Nice. I grab his lats, he puts his arms around my neck and hauls himself in for a sloppy kiss. He’s biting my lower lip when I enter him. His eyes open even wider and I nod yeah, now you know the pain your brother was in. He uses his hands to massage my deltoids and neck muscles. I move more quickly with G2. I’m already sliding him up and down my shaft quickly. He pulls his lips back, sticks his tongue out and starts to lap his brother’s cum off my face. When he has a tongue full he moves back in to pushes his tongue into my mouth, depositing the jizz. I swallow and lick his tongue and lips clean. I have him moving at a good pace on my dick when he suddenly grows tense. His hands latch on to my delts, and he wraps his legs around my waist. He freezes and shoots a load to match his brothers. Cum is everywhere on me and him. Our faces, chests, and abs. His legs release from my waist, but I am not done yet. I walk back to the bed, pull him off my dick and place him next to his brother. G1 has regained his composure, is leaning up on his elbows, and caught the end of my fucking his brother. He gives me a smile, and starts running his hand thru G2’s hair. I rip the condom off my dick, place both hands on it and start to go to town. G2 opens his eyes, leans up, but is still kind of out of it. I keep whacking off, but release my right hand, and throw up a bicep flex. I pull my left hand off and now do a massive double bi pose. The guys are aroused again. I move closer and nod my head for them to grab my dick. They maneuver around on the bed and each put a hand on my dick and start to jerk it off. To me the feeling is unbelievable. G1 then puts his other hand under my ball sac and starts playing with my balls. Oh boy, there’s a mistake. I go from double bi to most muscular, let out an animalistic yell and spew my load onto both of them. Cum is again, everywhere. I’ve shot four volleys and coated the bed, them, and my legs. I’m still erect, but the boys looked wiped out. I lean down, pick up G1 and move him further onto the bed. I do the same with G2. I move into the area in between them and pull their heads close to me. “Rest up gentlemen. Next show coming soon.”

Protragonist trains, roid up and grows to a 350 pound beast. Only to find that Bruce is now 500 pounds of pure godly muscles ?

I’m loving this story!

Outstanding! Whichever direction you‘re gonna take this, please keep this great attention to (muscular) details. I love your sensual descriptions! Cheers

Great entry and great descriptions but I gotta tell ya... If Bruce came on to ME like that, my response would have been: "You better goddamned believe it, Big Boy! Now show me whatcha got!" I had a fun exchange on Instagram the other day. One of the 1500 or so bodybuilders I follow posted a really great chest shot. Only problem was he was wearing a tank top. My comment was: "It should be illegal for you to wear a shirt!" Which prompted another follower to reply to my comment with: "Dude, that's pretty gay." My response? "Well, I should HOPE so!" Which elicited a "LOL! OK! No disrespect!" I long ago stopped pretending that I wasn't looking at handsome men!

Fuck man! Thsi si awesome. Liam is arealy great guy and i have a feeling he loves to show off si Iur friends is onna gave so much fun now

Friday July 21st - 10:00 pm Dear Muscle Diary, My name is Oscar Grimes and I'm obsessed with exactly two things; shiny, tiny, brightly coloured posing trunks, and the huge, roided muscle bulls who wear them. Last Wednesday was a day I'll never forget. Not only did I witness a bodybuilder in the flesh in my local launderette, but I also found a pair of his posing trunks left behind in one of the machines. And today, Friday July 21st, is also a day I’ll never forget. For so, so many reasons. I've always found it amazing how a single moment can stick in your memory and stay there forever. So many things happen to us every single day, and many of them are forgotten so quickly. But sometimes, something will stay in our heads. Like our brain takes a picture of a precise moment that we can access any time we like. And every time we do, it’s almost as clear as when it happened. Today was full of those very moments. One of which was when Liam “The Guns” Watson opened the door to his flat, and all six feet and two hundred plus pounds of him was stood staring at me from over the threshold. Obviously I’d encountered this absurdly sexy muscle beast in the flesh two Wednesday’s before when we’d waddled into the launderette. Another such moment that will forever be etched on to my memory. And yet, as he stood looking at me with a warm, inviting smile, I was completely overwhelmed with just how insanely fucking hot he was. Presumably because he was only two days out from competing, his skin was tinted a gorgeous, golden colour. A few more coats and he’d be bronzed and ready to step to stage. It completely contrasted with my typically pale complexion. His hair had changed since our first encounter a week and a half ago. It was now shaved except for a strip down the middle, which was not only spiked up and styled into a hot Mohawk, but dyed bright blue in the most outrageous fashion. Strong, masculine features sat on his handsome face. His slightly large, jug ears stuck out in the sexiest fashion (perfect for grabbing hold of with both sets of fingers when pounding his obscenely huge arse) and on both cheeks, either side of his devastatingly gorgeous grin, sat two little dimples like parenthesis. (The most adorable looking parenthesis you’re ever likely to see.) As for the mountain of outrageously developed muscle sitting below his neckline; annoyingly, it was covered up save for the top of his broad chest peeking out over the top of the same black hoodie he'd worn at the launderette. Much like on that occasion, he was wearing long shorts, so everything bar his completely smooth, bronzed shins were covered up. But even though there was very little beef on display, I was still completely overwhelmed and incredibly aroused by his enormous frame. Standing before me was a man who’d moulded and transformed his once ordinary sized body into that of an excessively sized muscle freak. I couldn’t help but wonder at one moment had Liam realised he’d crossed the line from gym going muscle lad into all out roided muscle bull? When random strangers had started gawping, shrieking and pointing at him as he walked down North Street? When he’d attempted to buy a hoodie in H&M to discover it was too small, forcing him to buy an XXL sized one from the shop at Deano’s Gym? Or maybe it had been the first time he’d looked in the mirror and his dick had instantly exploded at the image of the monstrous muscle freak staring back at him? “Oscar?” he asked as I stood at the door, about an inch shorter than him, the shiny blue posing trunks I’d said my sad goodbyes to fifteen minutes before tucked up in the backpack slung over my regular sized, non freaky shoulders. The nerves I’d felt walking to Liam’s house seemed to have been overtaken by a sense of sheer shock and disbelief of being in the presence of, not only a real life competitive bodybuilder, but one as utterly huge and sexy as Liam. “Yeah. Hi!” I said, trying to keep my focus on his face, and not be too blatant about staring at his enormous frame. “Come in mate,” he said, ushering me over the threshold and shutting the door behind me. As he sidled past me, we were closer than ever. Just being in such close proximity to a muscle bull of such magnificent size was incredibly horny. I followed Liam into his flat, taking in his huge back covered up by his Deano’s Gym hoodie and his outrageously developed and astonishingly huge arse stretching the material of his blue shorts. “Do you want a drink Oscar?” I loved the way he called me by my name like we were friends, even though we’d only just met. “Ummm … can I just have some water please?” “Sure mate!” Liam replied, before disappearing into the kitchen and leaving me in the living room of Brighton's biggest and sexiest muscle bull. I quickly scoured the room. A big Union Jack rug sat on the floor, matching Union Jack cushions sat on the black leather sofa, a huge flat screen TV was stuck to the wall, and sitting on a book shelf at the end of the sofa were multiple bodybuilding trophies, shaped like mini muscle men. Three framed pictures sitting on a shelf above his mantelpiece caught my eye. An old fashioned photo of a married couple I presumed to be his parents, an adorable picture of a black French bulldog looking joyful with his pink tongue flat out and a picture of Liam himself; tanned from head to toe, his whole body a mass of bronzed, shredded, competition conditioned muscle mass, a medal round his neck and a bodybuilding trophy at his feet. And all he was wearing was a pair of bright blue, shiny posing trunks. The very same posing trunks tucked up in my backpack at that precise moment! My dick juddered as I moved closer to get a better look at shredded Liam, flexing a hand on hips most muscular, an ecstatic grin on his oh-so gorgeous face, every freakishly developed muscle separated my beautiful lines and cuts. And all in those very familiar posing trunks. The hottest blue posing trunks in the world. The trunks I’d sniffed, and rubbed in my face as I wanked myself stupid. The trunks I’d fucking SPUNKED in just six nights before! “That was my first ever win mate!” I jumped as Liam “The Guns” Watson re-entered the room, and when I spun around to face him, I was met with an image so surreal and unexpected my jaw literally dropped, and my mouth hung open for just a second as I tried to compose myself. Liam had taken his hoodie off, and now had only a mint green coloured vest partially covering his upper body. His bare shoulders were absolutely fucking ridiculous. Like two bronzed half watermelons bulging either side of his frame. I could see a lot more of his chest. Huge, thick plates of muscle which stretched out the material of the vest at the bottom (begging to be squeezed, fondled and played with) and spilled out of the material at the top. And his arms. Jesus fucking CHRIST those arms. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing those in the flesh. The biggest upper arms I’ve ever seen on any human being outside of a bodybuilding competition. It was like they’d been injected with every fucking steroid and growth hormone on the market and pumped till they were in danger of going pop. Even relaxed I could see that vein I’d become familiar from his Instagram pictures, snaking down the middle of the left bicep. His forearms were obscenely thick too. Almost twice the size of mine, completely hairless and snaked in outrageous veins. As he walked towards me and reached out his right arm with a glass of water, freaky striations suddenly erupted underneath the paper thin, gorgeously golden skin of the accompanying shoulder. I took the water, all the while in a state of shock that I was in the presence of a man so freakishly huge and muscular. I wondered in that moment if Liam ever played with He-Man action figures as a young lad. And then I wondered just what that lad would have thought if he’d have somehow been shown what an enormous, superhuman muscle bull he’d become as an adult. “Sorry Oscar! I didn't mean to make you jump,” he said. His mouth curled into a mischievous grin as he said it, and I got the sense that he not only knew that his incredible body was making me nervous, but was also getting a bit of a kick out it. Whether he had any idea of the other thoughts that were going through my head I wasn’t sure. Or what effect his newly revealed slabs, lumps, bumps and mounds of obscenely developed muscle were having on my crotch. “Novice class of Mr Brighton 2014,” Liam added, referring to the picture of him on his mantle piece. “You probably recognise the trunks!” he exclaimed, grinning even more, with those adorable dimples appearing in his cheeks. Meanwhile, I furiously blushed at the mere mention of the item of clothing I’d been obsessing about for the past week. “It's partly why I was so gutted when I lost them. Sentimental value and all that,” he said, slightly sheepishly, making me want to melt into his Union Jack rug. I nodded. “I get that!” I replied. “You must have thought I was a bit of a nutter for putting up that poster!” he said. I’ve always struggled to conceal my true feelings. I winced slightly and made a, “Hmmmm…” noise, to which Liam just laughed. “I was a bit desperate mate! I went straight back to the launderette when I realised they were missing. I think I scared the woman working there a bit. Not just cause I was trying to explain to her what a pair of posing trunks looked like, but because, well …” at this point Liam paused, looked down and signalled to his body. The huge, freakishly muscular, competition ready body bulging out of the mint green vest just inches away from me. FUCK! “The poster idea came to me when I saw a similar one for a missing cat taped to a lamppost a few days earlier. I went back and asked the old dear in the launderette if I could put it up. I think she thought I was well and truly NUTS but let me do it anyway. Probably for fear I was gonna eat her!” I laughed out loud at this, and Liam grinned. “I’m guessing it was the first time anyone’s ever put up a poster for a missing pair of posers,” he said, still grinning and looking rather pleased himself. I was getting the impression that Liam rather liked doing things which were not completely of the norm. “I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to respond to it! So I was really chuffed when I got your text Oscar! It's not just the fact that I won my first ever show in them. I’m competing on Sunday and they were gonna be my trunks for the finals. To match the hair,” he explained, running his right hand through his outrageously hot, bright blue Mohawk. “It's kind of an ensemble. Blue hair. Blue trunks. To make me standout,” he said, cheekily grinning. It seemed utterly absurd that a man this huge and gorgeous would need to make any sort of attempt to stand out in a group or crowd. “Plus, I guess they’re kind of my favourite trunks,” he added, shrugging and looking a little sheepish. I couldn't help but smile at this. The idea of Liam having a favourite pair of posers was as adorable as his dimples. He’d stopped talking and there seemed to be something hanging in the air. Liam had an expectant look on his face and the penny suddenly dropped. He was waiting for his posing trunks. Of course he fucking was. “Oh! Your posers,” I said. The word had left my mouth without any kind of pre-thought. Turning around from Liam to fetch the trunks from my backpack sitting on his sofa, I had no idea whether he noticed that I’d gone bright red with embarrassment. But I was also feeling a rush of adrenaline too. I had never said the word “posers” or “posing trunks” to another person out loud before. My heart was pounding as I fetched the obscenely shiny, blue trunks out of my bag. An act which enhanced my adrenaline even more. Turning around and nervously handing the posing trunks I’d shot a huge wad of spunk into back to the gorgeous muscle freak standing before me was single handily the most surreal moment of my life up to that point. “Thanks dude!” Liam said, beaming as he was reunited with his beloved trunks, now dangling in his right hand, in the horniest image. A huge sexy muscle bull reunited with his favourite shiny posers. There was still a part of me which had doubted whether I’d done the right thing in parting ways with the posing trunks I’d come to love so much. But standing in front of Liam in that moment, I realised I’d absolutely made the right decision. I wondered whether it would be completely out of the question to request him to strip, put the posers on and start hitting up some poses in the living room? “So how come you didn't hand them in?” he asked. Because I fucking LOVE tiny, shiny, slurp-tastic posing trunks! "I, ummm … didn't find them until I’d gotten home,” I lied. “Ahhhh! That makes sense,” Liam said, nodding, and making me feel slightly guilty. “So, you go to Deano’s?” The question completely threw me. Why on Earth would he think I go to the most hardcore gym in town? My biceps aren’t THAT good, are they?! “Erm .... no. I go to Fitness Addicts,” I replied, nervously. “Oh right. I just assumed,” he said. Liam was looking at my upper arms, which were mostly on show below the sleeve of my t-shirt. An actual bodybuilder was checking out my biceps. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. But I also felt something else. Flattery. Confusion. He actually thought I went to Deano’s Gym. What the fuck?! “So ... how do you know me?” This question threw me even more. I was completely and utterly baffled. And then he explained himself, and everything suddenly make sense. “You used my name in your text message.” HOLY FUCKING JESUS!! I wanted the ground to swallow me up. To pause time and run the hell out of Liam's flat. I used his name in my text message! “Hi Liam!” How could I have been so fucking stupid?! My brain went into panic mode. How WOULD I know Liam? Me, a regular sized, non-bodybuilding guy? How could I explain that I was completely and utterly obsessed with huge, freaky muscle? That I regularly creamed off to pictures and videos of posing trunk sporting muscle bulls on the Internet, just like I did with a picture of him when I stumbled across his profile on Instagram on Saturday night? And that’s when it hit me. An answer for Liam which could just save me. “I follow you on Instagram,” I hastily said, my voice trembling slightly. “Oh right!” he replied. The answer seemed good enough for him. “I forget I’m pretty well known on the Internet. So you follow bodybuilding?” he asked. “Yeah,” I replied, nervously, but fairly confidently. It was the truth after all. “Awesome!” Liam exclaimed. His eyes went back to my arms, and his next statement made me blush crimson. “I can see you've got some biceps on you!” he exclaimed with a cheeky grin. I sheepishly grinned. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know why I said what I did next. Maybe it was the confidence of having a bodybuilder praise the size of my arms. “The guys I work with actually have a nickname for me.” “Oh yeah?” Liam asked with one of his eyebrows raised. I nodded, blushing like crazy and regretting what I’d said, but knowing it was too late to back out of the conversation. “They call me Mr Biceps!” I said, wincing. “HAHA!! That's awesome!” Liam exclaimed. “Mr Biceps! I like that. They call me “The Guns”, but you probably know that already,” he said. I smiled and nodded and my eyes went straight to those upper arms of him. Huge, bronzed, and the size of fucking tree trunks! It would have been the perfect opportunity for Liam to have lifted those bad boys up, and given me a quick, cheeky, front double bicep pose. Or to lift up one of his forearms, squeeze his fist and flex one of those hard, marble-esque balls of beef. But sadly, he didn’t do either of those things. Suddenly needing to relieve myself of the water Liam had given me, and also perhaps wanting to prolong my encounter with this gorgeous, cheeky, charming bodybuilder I‘d amazingly found myself in the company of, I asked Liam if I could use his bathroom. Today was full of moments I’ll never forget and, and being distracted by something on my way to Liam “The Guns” Watson’s bathroom was most certainly one of them. Along with every single thing that followed that night until I eventually left his flat.

Just a quick something I had an idea about. Let me know if you like where this is going! A thick layer of sweat and musk hung over the warm and humid performance that was Danny's Gym. Although calling it a gym would have been what he would have said when he first started. This was his gym anniversary so to speak, and it had gone from a tool to achieve his means, to a home and community. The unspoken bonds between his fellow patrons, the code and brotherhood of iron, and the admiration by those who lack the same dedication made this a temple upon which he worshipped every day. As he entered the large, open room filled with various machines and benches, he remembered the apprehension he felt exactly one year ago. Back then, he had very little clue of what he was doing, and most of the exercises he performed were merely a light warmup for the usual patrons. But back then, he was what he called skinny fat. He looked slim when clothed, but fat when nude. He had always had a problem with his body. In school, he was slim, and wanted to be slimmer. There was no discernable trigger point he could remember, but then one day he wanted to be big. Big back then didn’t have the same meaning as it did now. So he ate. He ate an awful lot, and eventually he ended up fat. His waist burgeoned around the forty inch mark, his chest sagged, yet he retained his skinny arms which always bothered him. He didn’t so much mind the extra size, however the jabs he was getting socially from his friends, and his lack of fitness started to bother him. So eventually Danny moved onto his dream. He had always loved the big bodybuilders and powerlifters, but always lacked the motivation. But this was it, it was the only body type he had not tried, and this was his way towards happiness. So he educated himself and hit the gym. His initial burst was immense. His twig like arms became more like branches in comparison. He easily achieved, then slightly surpassed average. He kept a fair bit of his fat for a while, but looking at him, you knew he was a strong guy. After about six months, he got really serious. His life was supplements, diet and routine. Every waking moment was thinking about how to get bigger. It impressed some of his friends, concerned others, but he was finally living his dream, to be the biggest he could be. Today, as he walked past the mirror in the changing room, exactly one year from the first ever time, he noticed how much he had changed. Slouched shoulders had changed into boulders, his posture perfect and commanding. His skinny back, once able to see his spine was rippling with wide, arching muscle. His arms were anything but average now and for the better. Thick legs, slabs of meat for pecs, juicy, vein lined forearms. He was bordering on what some would call perfection. But for him, nowhere near his goal. He had become obsessed with being bigger, and people had noticed. The right people. As he opened his locker, a note fell out: “We have been watching you danny. You’ve shown amazing commitment to the cause. Are you ready to take this to the next level? Meet me outside here tomorrow night at midnight.”

This is the first part of a story I put together on Gay Spiral Stories, which I'm reposting. Here, at least, I can properly use italics. FRAT HOUSE IN THE WOODS: SAM It was the usual dossier. Ordinary intelligence agencies would have considered it bizarrely incomplete, except in certain areas, but the Adjustment Institute was only an intelligence agency in a very specialized sense of the word. Their assessment of their five targets was impressively complete—in the areas it cared about.Lawrence skimmed over it one last time. The old-school dossiers fed you a bunch of raw data about penis length (flaccid and erect), girth, erogenous zone sensitivity, and other bits of extremely technical information. It was an impressive display of just how much raw sexual statistics the Institute could acquire without alerting anyone, but it was a huge amount of effort for something mostly useless. Lawrence had gotten this promotion by figuring out a very clever shortcut for finding the important information. Lawrence couldn’t help but smile a little. Clearly, whoever had written the dossiers had some opinions on how this adjustment should go. Of course, given the writers’ first-class knowledge of the subject, there were certainly worse plans. Yes, Sam Houston would be the first sacrifice on the board. He flicked a finger and beckoned the high-tech viewing glass towards him, and called up a live view of the opening minutes of the ritual: * * * * * The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. The five young men reached their destination without incident and piled out to look at their home for the next few days. “It’s bigger than I was expecting,” said Nathan. “Apparently it was going to be a frat house, as part of a Greek village that failed,” said Sam. “That is… an amazingly terrible place to build a Greek village.” Sam shrugged. “I did say it failed. Anyway, the rental was very cheap. And there’s absolutely nothing to do here except finish our article. Is everybody ready to buckle down?” * * * * * And they did. Lawrence fast-forwarded through the entire weekend, which was nothing but five men working steadily on an article for the university’s quarterly magazine. This would never please the Great Ones. Lawrence rewound time back to the beginning of the weekend on the glass and went looking through his tools. He selected an option titled BREAKDOWN. * * * * * The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. But there was a hitch, and something on the road tore a hole in one of the tires, forcing four young men to wait while the fifth, the only one who knew about cars, jacked up the car and attached the replacement tire. “Well, at least we’re here,” said Nathan, when they finally were. “Wow, that’s… a big place.” “Man, I don’t even care,” said Sam, who was dirty, sweaty, and disgruntled. (Lawrence had assisted in this with a few presses of his DIRT and SWEAT buttons.) “I just want a shower.” They trooped in, four of them looking for a workspace and one of them looking for the bathroom. * * * * * “Much better,” said Lawrence, moving the glass to follow Sam only. “And now that I’ve got you alone, Mr. Houston, you’re going to need a few adjustments.” * * * * * Sam found the master bathroom and went looking through his shaving kit for shampoo. Lawrence deleted the shampoo. (Protocol dictated that he should have deleted it as soon as he decided on his approach, but doing it on the fly was much cooler. If you did this job without style, you were missing the point.) Sam, finding no shampoo of his own, went to see if there was any left in the shower. Lawrence paused the weekend and put some there. This took a few minutes as Lawrence went looking deep into his menus for some of the specialized options. There was shampoo, and conditioner, so Sam took his clothes off (SCREENSHOT, pressed Lawrence) and got in. Finally, he could get all that dirt off. He wondered if he could call someone to bring a proper tire, or if he’d have to drive the car out to be repaired on Monday. Meanwhile, he lathered the house-brand shampoo into his hair. * * * * * Lawrence opened a status window off to one side to monitor the progress of the adjustment. It showed Samuel Houston’s naked body full-on, along with a few important statistics like height, weight, arousal level, and, of course, IQ. The IQ bar read 120. Then, it dropped to 119. “Oooo-gah,” said Sam, like a moaning bull, without really noticing he was doing it. The arousal bar, and his cock, began to rise as the chemical cocktail in the shampoo did its work. The shampoo, as altered by Lawrence, had effects that were both complex and very simple. The chemicals immediately went to work on Sam’s powerful brain and began sealing shut neural pathways having to do with higher rationality, complex reasoning, and the superego. It was a very intricate process just to achieve the simple result of turning Sam stupid. About three minutes after getting into the shower, the IQ bar read 87. Sam didn’t notice himself getting dumber, partly because the parts of his brain that could make that kind of observation were turning into goo, but mostly because the secondary effect of the chemicals was to make him much hornier. Since Sam was already quite horny naturally, this served to focus his attention completely on the arousal bar between his legs. By the time he turned his thoughts back to thinking, he’d have no thoughts left to think about. “That’s a… blue-steel boner I’ve got,” he muttered to himself, soaping his hand up to pump it more easily. God, the hot water and his hot cock felt amazing. He could feel his cock inside his head as he stroked it, as if he were building a model dick in his imagination and watching it fill more and more of the available space with pure pleasure. “I feel… feel… fuuuuckkk…” What Sam felt was, indeed, fuck. As the heavy dose of pharmaceuticals completed its mission, he came, and a tidal wave of an orgasm washed across his mind and drowned it. He moaned loudly, exactly like a stupid, horny bull, and his fuckstick (which was now also his only working brain) fired ropes of cum across the shower, then continued throbbing in ecstasy for a full minute after his balls were empty. Slowly, slowly, the golden ocean of pleasure receded from his brain. When it had gone, there was not much left. Where there had once been a shining citadel of knowledge, bedecked with hopes, dreams, and a few naked selfies, there was now nothing but a giant dick-shaped skyscraper, permanently erect. Sam’s ejaculate, and most of his doctorate, went down the drain. He did not miss them. “Uh!” he said, still drunk with bliss. “Guh!” That sort of expressed how he felt, but even with his drastically-lowered intellectual capacity, he thought that his world-record orgasm deserved better. The former English major struggled with his words as though he was herding kittens, but finally came up with: “Man. Perfect man. I am the perfect man.” And that, he felt, pretty much summed it up. * * * * * “Damn right you are,” said Lawrence, admiring his handiwork. Sam’s glazed eyes, heavy torso, and his swollen cock all spoke to a magnificent thickness that was the Institute’s one and only product. “Adjustment complete.” He paused the flow of time, removed his clothing, and knelt down in front of the glass to pray. As he spoke, the image slowly stretched out into full-screen mode until it covered the space from floor to ceiling like a stained-glass window. He stroked his own cock and called out to his gods: “Oh, Great Ones, I offer unto you this, the first sacrifice of many! This man’s body was as solid as a rock, and his lust was mighty, but his mind was displeasing unto you, for it was powerful and full of thoughts. I offer that mind to you in sacrifice, that you may see him as he is now, a dumb-ass horny jock, and be appeased!” The giant image of Sam, which looked more like stained-glass than ever, flexed its giant muscles and moaned. “I’m such a fuckin’ dumbass!” it bellowed in a voice that sounded kind of, but not really, like Sam, even the new stupid Sam. “I got a head full of muscles and I fuckin’ love it!” The glass giant jerked itself off, and the Great One’s pleasure poured itself into Lawrence’s own cock, letting him share in the divine orgasm. In theory, this shared pleasure helped to cement obedience in the brains of Institute executives, but the money that was even now flowing into the Institute’s bank account was a powerful incentive as well. Lower-level members were taught that the Great Ones were offered sacrifices of human potential—that the men whose bodies were enhanced and minds numbed became symbolic offerings to the controllers of reality so that the rest of humanity could be spared. Executive members knew the truth—ultimately, the Great Ones wanted to see nerds turned into jocks because they thought it was super hot. As the moment of communion passed and the glass returned to its normal mode, Lawrence stretched. “Now the first sacrifice will be made obedient unto us, that he might bring further offerings unto you. Except, first, I need a shower.” “Or,” he said, “maybe later…” Lawrence went looking into the submenus under BREAK WITH REALITY. * * * * * Sam flexed. God, his body was hot. It was amazing that he ever wore clothes; he could look at himself all day. Actually; he wasn’t looking at himself. He could have admired himself more efficiently if he’d stepped out of the shower and in front of the mirror, but he was no longer good at having ideas like that. Besides, he could picture himself perfectly, and that was what counted, and the hot water felt so good… He was surrounded by warm rain and steam, almost like he was in six showers at once. He opened his eyes and found that he was, and that the shower had expanded into an enormous, circular room with many shower-heads blanketing him from all sides. In between the showerheads were exactly the mirrors he hadn’t realized he needed. “Mm,” he said. He was no longer curious about things, but this was nice. He flexed at himself in the mirror, good and hard. “Fuckin’ sick, bro,” said somebody’s voice. This matched so perfectly with what he was thinking at the time that he didn’t realize he hadn’t spoken. “You’re as ripped as hell. You’re like a god among men. You are a sex machine. Your cock is…” The stream of narcissistic admiration went on and on, and as it continued, Sam, still unable to tell the words apart from his own thoughts (so similar were they) began to repeat the things it said out loud. “Your cock is the key to happiness. My—my cock is the key to happiness.” Overhead, the room lighting began to pulse and fade into many different colors. They fell on the eyes of the many reflected Sams, causing them to change hue over and over as Sam stared into them, mindlessly repeating the thoughts he was given. “I got so horny that my brain bust a nut and now I am stupid. I like being dumb. I have big muscles and a big cock. I don’t care about finishing the paper. Instead I will…” Sam hesitated, as some small remnant of his own personality objected to the commands being transmitted to him. The mirror-Sams, grinning dumbly at him, reached for their cocks. “Uhh! Yeah! Uh! I’ll fuck all my friends this weekend! Yeah! I’ll help make them into muscle morons! I obey—uh!—all commands! Anything you say! Uh! Yes! Yes, master!” Sam came again, and his last traces of resistance were wiped away. Sam smiled. “I will fuck Nathan first,” he said, dreamily. “I will lure him here and bring him into the shower. I will help you to adjust him. Yes.” He blinked, and the shower was again an ordinary shower. He turned it off, found a towel, and dressed himself. “Fuck machine, engage,” he said. He was happy, as men are who have found their one purpose in life and set out to do it. He went in search of Nathan. * * * * * “Nice to have some reliable help,” said Lawrence. Sam, no longer capable of much introspection, was helpless to resist his hypnosis. It had taken only a few minutes to make him willingly, happily obedient, even to the point of betraying his best friends. The Institute could transmit its orders directly into his dick, which now performed the bulk of Sam’s thinking. Now, he would bring the next sacrifice to them himself. Of course, with his superior strength, Sam could easily manhandle Nathan into the shower, rub shampoo into his hair, pump his cock until his brains blew out, and then hold him in place for another round of hypnotism. It would take less than ten minutes to make Nathan into one more zombie just like his friend. But that would never do. The Great Ones had been much pleased with the turn-smart-horny-jock-into-dumb-horny-jock-in-the-shower-with-brain-damage-shampoo-followed-by-shower-jerkoff-with-hypnosis scenario, but they wouldn’t be pleased by a repeat of the same performance, or even a mild variation. The Institute had not achieved its prominence by giving its gods less than constant innovation. The second adjustment would have to be something completely different. This, Lawrence was prepared to provide. He reached to the glass and pulled up his second dossier.

This jouney will be an epic one!

Fantastic! Can't wait for the next show!! Please don't stop!

I still dun get why people love bullies like that so much. But dang I hope Carl (or the narator) will become so freaking big that he'd make Bruce look like a freaking ant. And would humiliate him more than Bruce ever humiliated Carl, yet would not do anything to Bruce afterwards so he would not be a bully like Bruce. >=(

Sorry for the late reply to this guys. Almost a year, but went through a bad breakup, ended up homeless for a while. Scuppered my progress so i'm restarting, but I shall let Danny continue his journey: --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The entire workout was even more intense than usual. His mind always on the goal of size, but driven by the prospect of getting bigger, and this mysterious note, pushed him to even greater heights. Each set was ended with a thud, weights hitting the floor making the ground shake just slightly. He never dropped the weights as he viewed that as arrogant and ignorant, but when you lift over a certain amount, there's an inevitability it's going to make noise as it goes down. He skipped the shower as usual. It wasn't that he was lazy or enjoyed stinking, but fresh sweat in his mind was the mark of a true gym goer. He never smelled bad anyways, he just wanted everyone to know he earns his size. The beefy cub swaggered out the gym, and stopped by the shop for a bit of a show off, and to get another drink before getting on the tram home. Taking up his own seat, then a bit of space on either side, he got a few looks but he lapped them up, loving the way that people's looks betrayed their thoughts of admiration and attraction. His usual routine was on the cards for tonight, but he couldn't help but feel electrified. This feeling carried him all through his work the next day, and he was visibly antsy as he counted the minutes down until he got out of work. He had decided to go to the gym later as it was a 24 hour gym, and he would finish up right before midnight, hoping the excitement would make for another good workout. Two hours later, he was proven correct. The gym was quieter than usual so late in the day, but this just meant he had more free reign and didn't have to weight until other people had finished using his equipment. He was sure he could have demanded the equipment but he was confident, not an arrogant asshole. Besides, everyone deserved their chance. Waiting an extra couple of minutes wasn't going to kill anyone. He skipped the shower again as usual, and went outside the entrance to wait. Midnight came and went. Ten whole minutes of waiting and he could feel himself get slightly deflated. It was so quiet that even the automated lights shut off, and he had never seen that before. He was readying himself to leave when he pushed off the wall he had been leaning against, and fell flat to his face on the pavement. Winded by the impact, he tried to look around but felt his body immensely weak, and his vision was becoming blurry. A wave of realisation washed over him. He had been drugged. He tried to call out but to no avail, and within the next minute he was unconscious.. When he came too, it was still dark. No... He was blindfolded. the pressure of the fabric around his head was causing a throbbing. Or that could be the drugs. He tried to raise his hands to uncover himself but he couldn't. He was tied behind the back with coarse rope. As he continued to find his bearings, he realised he was seated. Some sort of metal chair, in a freezing room. He called out, to no answer, not even an echo. The room couldn't be too big then. His body panicked but his head was thinking things through. He needed to try and keep his head if he had any chance of surviving until tomorrow.

With all the doors in Liam’s flat wide open, it wasn’t hard to spot his bathroom. But as I got to the bathroom door, something in the room next to it suddenly caught my eye. Something which made me stop dead in my tracks. Lying on what was clearly Liam’s bed was a pair of bright pink posing trunks. Not just bright pink, but glittery, sparkly and indecently shiny. FUCK! I went into the bathroom with my mind completely pre-occupied with the image of those posers. Trying to will my boner to go down so I could take a piss knowing the world’s sparkliest pink posers were casually lying on the bed of a beefed up bodybuilder whose house I’d amazingly found myself in, right next door was virtually impossible. When I’d finally relieved myself, I walked back into the hallway of Liam’s flat, my heart pounding because all I knew I had to do was turn my head towards his bedroom and I’d get to see those gloriously pink posers once again. I stopped in my tracks, peeked down the hall to check Liam wasn’t coming to find me and turned to his bedroom. Sure enough, there they were. The bright pink posing trunks of Brighton’s hottest bodybuilder. Just as shiny and sparkly as before. I should have turned around right there and then. Walked back to Liam’s living room, and enjoyed the last of what had been a short but fucking incredible encounter with a real life, gorgeous muscle bull. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop staring at those shiny posers. Just lying there on his bed. Had they been worn earlier that day? Had Liam tried them on and hit a few poses in the mirror, trying to decide if they were coming to the show that weekend, along with the beloved, newly reunited blue posers he’d lost at the launderette the week before. Maybe he’d just tried them on for fun? Maybe he’d been wearing them earlier that day. Maybe they’d been hiding under his trackies at the gym. Maybe he liked the feel of the shiny material against his ass and dick as he pumped up his enormous muscles and worked himself into a sweat? OH GOD!! When I think about it now, I actually can’t quite believe what I did next. But I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from those shiny pink posing trunks. I was transfixed. Hypnotised by the pink sparkly material. It was like they were calling me. Beckoning me to go forward. So I did. I put one foot in front of the other, and walked into Liam “The Guns” Watson’s bedroom. A strong stench hit me as I walked through the doorway. A hot, powerful, masculine odour. Like the bodybuilding version of a teenage boy’s bedroom. His bed sheets were grey and the walls were painted dark red. I had seen those walls before. On the back wall I could see the familiar poster of “Pumping Iron”. Arnold Schwarzenegger, quite possibly Liam’s hero as a horny, muscle crazed teenager, looking down at a single flexed bicep in black and white. This was the room in the photo of Liam flexing his insane biceps with his mouth wide open in outrageously arrogant fashion on his Instagram. The photo I’d wanked off and spunked to whilst wearing a pair of his posing trunks just six days before. But now another pair of Liam’s posers had taken over my mind. The shiny, sparkly pink fuckers I was getting closer to with every step I took, until I was standing at the foot of Liam’s double bed, looming over them. I turned to the door to double check Liam wasn’t there, and nervously picked up the posers. They felt fucking incredible in my fingers. Soft. Smooth. And insanely horny. An image flashed in my mind of stuffing the pink posers in my jeans pocket, silently creeping towards Liam’s front door and running all the way home. I placed the pink posers back on the bed, trying to position them as they’d been before I picked them up. I turned to leave, when something in an open drawer of Liam’s wardrobe suddenly stopped me dead in my tracks; the bright shiny material of another pair of posing trunks. And not just one! I moved closer to the open drawer, looked down and was met with, quite possibly, the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Staring back at me was not just one pair of posing trunks. Not even just two. But a whole host of shiny posers. Of every colour conceivable. Orange. Purple. Green. Even gold! All as shiny as the rest. My heart was pounding and my cock was furiously pulsating as I looked down at the plethora of shiny, colourful material. I had found Liam “The Guns” Watson’s posing trunk collection. And it was the most glorious and downright fucking horny collection you could imagine. I wanted to shrink myself down to five inches tall and climb inside the drawer. Stand completely surrounded by the shiny, colourful material of a bodybuilder’s posing trunk collection. Run through the shiny fabric completely naked. Bathe in it. Wrap my whole body in it. Feel and smell the posing trunk material all around me. A miniature sized trunk loving muscle addict in a sea of giant, shiny posers. I nervously looked to Liam’s bedroom door again. It hit me in that moment. Even though I had been nervous, scared even, to phone up Liam and come to his flat. I did it because a deep rooted desire took hold of me and over rode that fear. And that’s exactly what was happening to me in that moment. I was nervous to be trespassing in Liam’s bedroom, standing over his posing trunk collection lying in his drawer. I knew it was wrong. That I shouldn’t have been there. That I’d never be able to explain myself if he walked in and caught me. But desire had taken over. The same desire I’d felt when I’d picked up my very first copy of “FLEX” magazine in my local WH Smith when I was fifteen years old and nervously took it to the counter. The same desire burning inside of me when I was stood outside an exhibition centre with a ticket to my first ever bodybuilding show stuffed into my wallet. The same desire which took over me when I was holding Liam’s shiny blue posing trunks in my hand last Saturday night and pulling them up my legs. And now, that very desire was willing me to reach my hand into the open drawer before me and pull out the unmistakable ruby red posing trunks Liam had been wearing in Instagram photo I’d creamed off to last weekend. Somehow, they felt even more incredible than both the blue posers I’d been in possession of for the last week and a half, and the sparkly pink ones I’d been holding just a minute before. They were unquestionably shinier than both of those pairs too. Liam “The Guns” Watson’s shiniest posing trunks. Dancing in my fingers. Mine, just for those few seconds. To hold. To feel. To worship. To love. Without any hesitation or thought, I closed my eyes, brought the ruby red posing trunks to my face, pressed the shiny material into my nose and mouth, took a deep inhale of the shiny red fabric and... “OSCAR?!” OH FUUUUUCCCKKK!!

I guess this meathead qualifies ...

Saturday July 15th Dear Muscle Diary, Well, diary, it's been three days since I found the shiny, bright blue posing trunks of a genuine bodybuilder hidden amongst my washing in my local launderette. And I've barely been able to think about anything since! I've now creamed off with the posers placed over my face three times (blush!) and I officially feel like a right kinky little bugger. None were quite as amazing as the first time though and I've been thinking more and more that it might be time to take things to the next level, i.e. trying the posing trunks on! It didn't feel right at first, but the more days that pass the more that feeling is fading, and the more they're starting to feel like they're my trunks (even though they're really not)! Now it's just a case of choosing the right moment. I want to save it for a time when I'm really fucking horny. I’ve always fantasised about owning a pair of posing trunks, and trying them on for the first time and I basically just want it to be the best experience that it can possibly be. Yours, Oscar Grimes (potential soon-to-be wearer of tiny, shiny posing trunks!) Sunday July 16th Dear Muscle Diary, Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh shit. I did it, diary! I tried on the trunks. FUUUUUCKKK!! But that's not all, diary. There's more to tell you! So much fucking more. And it involves the original owner of said trunks! So I went out last night for a few drinks with my mate, Ste. It was one of those nights where I didn't really wanna go but I just sort of forced myself because I felt like I needed a night out. Well, as soon as I was in the pub, I knew I shouldn't have bothered. The atmosphere was dead and the alcohol didn't seem to be helping much. We went to another place which was a little bit better, but as the night went on, I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to be at home with my posing trunks, watching and wanking off to some obscenely shredded muscle bull on YouTube! Anyway, things finally picked up after a few shots and the place livened up. Ste was drooling over guys that would never be interested in him (sorry Ste!) while I suddenly found myself snogging this young cutie patootie with a hipster beard and leather cap. Whenever I go out with Ste, he hardly ever pulls and I always do, which always surprises me because Ste is so outgoing and confident, and will literally chat to anyone, and despite being a wee bit chunky he's really handsome. Maybe it's because I still have a bit of a baby face and, despite the fact that I’m thirty-two, still occasionally get asked for ID when I try to buy vodka from my local Tesco Express. Or maybe it's the modestly sized arms I've built up since my mid-twenties. Don't get me wrong, diary, I'm not going to be entering any bodybuilding competitions any time soon, but my arms do look quite good in a t-shirt. Ste's grabbed and copped a feel of them on a couple of nights out, which I always secretly get a kick out of. My workmates even christened me with a blush worthy and rather ego boosting nickname a few years ago; Mr Biceps! So the leather capped cutie patootie (he didn't tell me his name) asked me if I wanted to go back to his place. I thought about it for a moment. He was a sexy little bugger and the kissing was pretty horny, but then I thought about the morning after. Waking up in a stranger’s bed feeling and looking like a bag of warmed up shit and just wanting to close my eyes and melt into the mattress and disappear, before magically landing in my own bed. Alone, and safe from any potential awkwardness and the possibility of morning sex which they always want to have. And then I thought, again, about watching some obscenely huge muscle monster flexing and squeezing in a pair of brightly coloured posing trunks on my PC screen. And then I thought about the posing trunks sitting in my drawer back home. The insanely hot, indescribably horny posing trunks of a real life, genuine bodybuilder, both of which I hadn't been able to stop thinking about since my adventure at the launderette on Wednesday night. So I said my goodbyes to Mr Cutie Leather Cap, grabbed Ste and headed for home. Ste was feeling a bit down on himself on the walk. Apparently, not only has he not had sex for the last six months, but he hasn't had a snog either. I don't really know how that's possible, but apparently not only does he never pull when he goes out, but hardly anyone messages him on Grindr either. The last guy he met from there opened the door, looked him up and down, screwed his face up and told him he wasn't his type. We were almost at the Pavillion when Ste asked me a question. “Oscar, if you didn't know me and you saw me in a club, would you pull me?” The honest answer is, diary, I would have pulled Ste seven years ago when we first met. He's never been my type, but he's handsome, and funny, and it's so fucking endearing how excited he gets about things like Doctor Who and Batman. But now, I can't even contemplate kissing Ste. It's Ste, for fucks sake! But I sensed that he needed some type of validation and because he was feeling so down on himself, I gave it to him. “Yes Ste! If I didn't know you, I would pull you!” He grinned like mad and I felt a slight warmth. “You still could you know,” Ste said with one eyebrow cheekily raised. “Pull me!” Taken aback, I laughed and playfully told Ste to fuck off. It was when we were approaching Ste’s turning and we were stood still facing each other that he offered up his next proposition. “OK, if you won't snog me, at least let me feel one of your biceps!” I laughed again and Ste just cheekily grinned. I decided to play along, so I took his left hand and firmly placed it on my right, unflexed bicep. Ste made a jokey, “Mmmm,” sound and I rolled my eyes and giggled. And then? Well, I’m not really sure what made me do it, diary, but without even thinking, I bought my forearm up so it was sat horizontal against my stomach and clenched my right fist so that my bicep flexed and bulged underneath Ste's fingers. He suddenly stopped grinning, his eyes bulged, and his face transformed into a shocked expression. “FUCK!” he cried out. Something happened to me in that moment. Seeing Ste's shocked and amazed reaction to my muscle, having someone feeling my flexed bicep, I suddenly felt incredibly horny, and starting to swell in my boxers. It was nothing to do with Ste himself. I think it was just seeing someone’s amazed reaction to what my flexed muscle felt like. Ste's not even into muscle. Well, not the kind of grotesque, shredded freaks I cream off to on a regular bases. So, diary, imagine his reaction if he were into muscle? And imagine if, instead of my modestly sized bicep, I had a twenty inch, paper thin skin covered, bronzed painted, freakishly huge ball of bicep muscle bulging off my upper arm? “That feels HUGE!” Ste said, still squeezing my flexed gun, and doing nothing to diffuse neither my ego or power trip. I sheepishly grinned at him. “Hardly!” came my honest reply. When he finally released his grip, we laughed, hugged and said goodbye. “See you later … Mr Biceps!” Ste playfully called out as he walked down his street, giggling in his typically extroverted manner. That unexpected but brilliant little moment with Ste got me even more in the mood to get home and watch some seriously freaky muscle. I wondered, in that moment, what Ste would think of the huge, roided muscle bulls I regularly blasted loads to. I did once tell him that I liked really huge guys, but I still think he'd be surprised if he saw just the kind of superhuman sized monsters that made my boxers sticky. And I have absolutely NO idea what Ste would think if he knew that for my last three wanks I’d had a pair of posing trunks sitting on my face! In fairness, he'd probably just laugh and call me a kinky little fucker. When I arrived at home, I poured myself another cheeky drink, and fired up my muscle ridden PC. I was in the mood for something new, so I went to straight to my subscriptions in YouTube. There had been a huge amateur bodybuilding show somewhere in Europe last weekend. One of my favourite channels had been slowly uploading videos from the competition all week and there'd been a ton posted in the last few hours. You wouldn't find any of the big named pro bodybuilders, or any American muscle monsters competing in this sort of show. It was mostly shredded to death East Europeans, with a couple of good old fashioned British muscle bulls thrown in for good measure. After watching videos of an arrogant as fuck, Austrian bull wearing outrageous golden posers and some nasty, gritty, British muscle daddy who really should no better than to be stomping around bodybuilding stages at his age, I came to a video of a twenty something British lad called Andy. Sporting a physique packed with some seriously gorgeous beef, carved and shredded in the most shocking condition, Andy hit his poses with more energy than the bodybuilders in the first two videos put together. When Andy spun around to hit a rear pose, revealing the most obscenely sized arse spilling either side of his tiny purple posers, I suddenly had a flashback to the enormous sized and perfectly round arse belonging to the sexy as hell muscle bull from the laundrette last Wednesday. The owner of the shiny blue posing trunks I had now paused the video to fetch from my drawer. For some reason, the trunks looked even hornier and shinier than ever. As I held them in my hands, I knew the time I had been waiting for had come. This was it. Horny as fuck from watching a bunch of jacked up muscle freaks flexing and ripping up a bodybuilding stage, and slightly less inhibited with the alcohol running through my system from my night out with Ste, I knew this was the perfect time to try on the posers of the gorgeous, local bodybuilder I'd found sitting amongst my washing four nights before. My heart was thumping as I took my jeans and boxers off. Even just feeling the poser material brushing against my legs as I put them on felt insanely horny. And then I nestled my hard throbbing dick in the shiny blue pouch. With the lining of the trunks against the head of my cock, I put my right hand to my trunk covered hard on and squeezed. Fuuuuuuuckkk! It was some kind of miracle, diary, that it didn't explode with a huge load of spunk right there and then. I had always feared that if I ever did purchase, or manage to try on some posing trunks, I would look a little silly in them. But as I admired my reflection in the mirror and saw myself wearing the insanely hot posers of an actual bodybuilder, I realised I didn’t look silly in the slightest. It didn't matter that I didn't have huge slabs of shredded beef hanging off my bones. Or that my skin wasn’t painted with bronzed competition tan. The posing trunks just looked hot as fucking fuck, even against my pale, none freakishly muscular legs. With my hard on stretching out the pouch of the shiny posers, and the back of the trunks hugging my regular sized arse, I went back to my laptop to continue watching the video I’d found of Andy, the gorgeous, shredded British muscle pup, flexing on stage. Within seconds of pressing play, Andy has spun around, shuffled to the front of the stage and was cranking out most muscular after most muscular, each one accompanied with his mouth wide open in the most brilliantly arrogant fashion. As I stroked my hard cock through the soft posing trunk material, rock hard, horny as fuck and fearful that I was about to cum at any given moment, I looked at Andy and realised that it wasn't just his oversized bottom that reminded me of the bodybuilder from the launderette. It was also his face. He had the same masculine but boyish quality. A little rough around the edges. Very laddish. Undeniably British. And oh-so-bloody-gorgeous! And then I had a thought. What if, somewhere on the Internet, there was a video of the bodybuilder from the launderette, flexing on stage in the very trunks I was wearing? I doubted he'd be at the level of the bodybuilders from the show I was watching videos from, but there could easily be a video of a Mr South East contest somewhere. He had posing trunks that he felt were in need of a wash, so he most likely would have competed recently, or was due to compete soon. Unless there was something else he did in his posing trunks which required them to be asked afterwards? A thought which made my dick furiously jolt under the shiny poser material. I tried my luck and did a quick search but no such videos materialised. At least not ones from the last five years. In sheer desperation, I put “Brighton bodybuilder” into Google and one of the top five results bought up the website for the infamous Deano’s Gym. From there, I reached the gym’s Facebook page, and that's where I struck gold! I was immediately drawn to the very latest post at the top of the page which read; “Good luck to Liam Watson, who is competing at the Tiger Bodybuilding Classic in London next weekend.” And then I looked at the picture of the huge, shredded muscle bull in the picture, hitting a front lat spread in a pair of very familiar looking shiny blue posing trunks and my heart lurched into my throat. Looking at the gorgeous face of the flexing muscle beast, lips pursed in arrogant fashion, I was suddenly transporting back to Wednesday night, watching that very face walking through the laundrette with a holdall full of washing in his hand, not knowing that he'd accidentally left a certain garment of clothing in the machine. The very garment of clothing he was wearing in the picture I was looking at, and the very garment I was wearing at that precise moment! And then I read the rest of the text which accompanied the picture. “Check out more of Liam on his Instagram page here” which was followed by a link, which I excitedly clicked and HOLY SHIT, I was now on the Instagram page of the bodybuilder whose trunks I'd been wanking off with the past three days! A mini digital glimpse into the world of Liam Watson, the huge, gorgeous Brightonian bodybuilder who was competing in a show next weekend. My eyes went straight to the very first post. A close up picture of an outrageously huge, flexed bicep, with a freaky, thick vein running right down the middle. FUCK! And that's when I noticed something in the bio of the profile. Liam had written his name, but there was something sandwiched in between his first name and surname. Liam had a nickname. A nickname which became even more appropriate as I scoured the many pictures on his page and landed on one of him blowing up his seriously enormous biceps while flexing a front double. I wasn't just wearing Liam Watson's shiny blue posers. I was wearing Liam “The Guns” Watson's shiny blue posers! As I scanned the pictures on Liam's profile, I was reminded of my “five things about muscle which drive me completely and utterly bonkers” list from earlier in the week. Beyond human biceps? Check! Mammoth sized tits? Check! Outrageously cocky posing? Fucking check! An enormous sized bottom? Big fat CHECK! Brightly coloured, shiny as shit posing trunks? To which I took my eyes off the screen and looked in my lap. THE BIGGEST FUCKING CHECK! In addition to the close up bicep shot, I quickly adopted a number of favourite pictures from Liam’s Instagram. Amongst them, a rear shot of Liam completely naked with his gigantic sized ass on full display (FUCK!) with the cheeky caption, “Sorry if my naked bum offends anyone. I just really wanted an excuse to use the peach emoji!” and a contest photo of him from a few years earlier, tanned to shit, with a little less size but shredded to buggery, cranking out a crab most muscular with his eyes closed, face scrunched and teeth gritted in the cheekiest (and horniest) fashion (fuck yeah Liam)! But my absolute favourite picture was the second most recent one posted on his profile. A shot taken that very morning, of Liam standing in a room with a huge black and white poster of the classic documentary film “Pumping Iron” hanging behind him on the wall. Wearing nothing but a pair of beautiful, bright red posers, just as shiny as the ones I was wearing, packed and filled out by his indecently big bulge, Liam was hitting a front double bicep pose. His insane biceps peaking to an obscene degree. Huge, round, and perfect. The right one with that freakish, thick vein running right down the middle. God I love that vein. His face contorted into the most outrageous expression. Manic, crazy, and cocky as fuck. His mouth wide open in an almost animalistic fashion. A huge, freaky, gorgeous muscle bull flexing his enormous, nickname earning guns, displaying extreme masculinity, unapologetic attitude and pure power in the horniest way conceivable. That was it. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I furiously tugged on my throbbing hard on through the fabric of Liam's posers and, staring at his gigantic biceps and sexy, ‘tude packed face, the head of my dick exploded and a huge load of cum blew into the lining of the posing trunks. I looked down and saw the spunk seeping through the shiny material. What an image. What a feeling! The orgasm was even more intense than the one I had Wednesday night with the trunks placed over my face. Intense, immeasurable pleasure consuming my whole body. I felt like I'd been transported to the ceiling and someone needed to come and scrape me off. And God did I scream. Uninhibited shouts of orgasmic pleasure. God knows what the neighbours thought. Fuck ‘em! If they'd been shooting loads into their undies over monstrous bodybuilders in tiny sized posing trunks since their teenage years and had amazingly managed to be in possession of a pair of such very trunks and were blasting a massive load into them for the first very time, they'd be screaming the place down too. Basking in a post orgasmic high, I looked at Liam flexing on my laptop and I suddenly felt a twinge of something. Not so much guilt, more a slight feeling of wrongness. What would this man think if he knew I'd just shot a load in one of his pairs of posing trunks? I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. There was no point dwelling on it. After all, Liam will never ever know. His posing trunks are long gone. Never to be seen again. And now they're mine. To wear and cream in. Over and over again. Yours, Oscar Grimes (wearer and new, proud owner of tiny, shiny posing trunks!)