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Fourteen “Wow! Noah, your arms look bigger!” I was sitting opposite Eddie at a Chinese restaurant in town and I’d just taken my jacket off. I couldn’t suppress a smug grin at his compliment. “The gym’s going well, then?” he asked. “Yeah! I’m really getting into it.” I hadn’t told Eddie about my trips to Scorpio’s with AJ. The idea of doing so made me oddly nervous. I guess I was worried if I started talking about AJ I’d give away my feelings for him. “Although my mum keeps moaning that I keep using all the milk for my protein shakes!” I said, rolling my eyes. “Protein shakes? You’re turning into a right little muscle boy!” he said, which made me grin even more. Shortly afterwards I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I was instantly filled with excitement. What if AJ had sent me a message? Or even another outrageously hot picture of himself posing in his trunks in the middle of his garden? I didn’t want to be one of those people who sat in restaurants or bars playing with their phone instead of talking to the person right in front of them. But still, as Eddie told me about the latest play he was putting together with his acting group, I couldn’t stop wondering what was waiting for me on my phone, and if it was a message from AJ. When Eddie retreated to the toilet I eagerly took my phone out of my pocket. I felt deflated when I saw that the vibrating was just caused by a text message from Naomi, which I momentarily felt guilty about, before realising that Naomi would completely understand. I hadn’t told her that I’d been going to the gym with AJ, either. Or that I‘d been messaging him on Facebook. I kind of liked that no one knew about us. It made whatever we were seem just that little bit more special. When Eddie came back I was still texting. “Sorry! Best friend. She’s coming back next weekend.” “Awww! That’s cool.” My phone pinged again. “Oh, she says I should invite you out next Saturday!” Eddie grinned and raised one eyebrow. “Oh, that’s nice of her. Tell your friend, thanks.” I smiled and playfully rolled my eyes. “Wanna come out with us?” “Sounds fun!” I knew Naomi would like Eddie, and vice versa. Pretty much everyone gets on with Naomi. I found it kind of weird how most of my friends were really outgoing. Maybe that was exactly why I got on with them. Because they were the opposite of me. I wasn’t convinced that two introverted people really worked that well together. “Ooooh! I can probe her! Find out some gossip!” Eddie’s comment reminded me that he really did like me. I felt a stab of guilt that I didn’t entirely feel the same, but also couldn’t help feeling flattered that someone felt that way about me. It was a nice feeling. The thing about going out with Eddie was that it was always so comfortable, easy and fun and we always ended up having such a great night out. And he was so charming and nice that I started to wonder whether I did actually like him, or at least could grow to like him. And even though I wasn’t exactly feeling butterflies, even though I’d spent the past three weeks thinking about another guy, there was something there between us. I couldn’t deny it. Which is why, whenever he made a move to kiss me on our nights out, I always reciprocated. “You know I like you, don’t you?” Eddie said to me a few hours later while we were sitting down in the pub we went to on our first date. His fingers intertwined with mine and my knee was pressed against his. It felt nice. And for the first time in weeks, I actually wasn’t thinking about AJ Jones. I guess it may have been my cue to tell him I liked him too, but I didn’t. To be honest, I’d never exactly been that forthcoming with guys. Even the ones I really liked. It wasn’t intentional. I guess I just wasn’t very good at talking about that type of thing openly. But also, a lot of the time, I wasn’t really sure exactly how I felt. Guys seemed to fall for me hard, and very quickly. And I very rarely felt the same. “But you know I’m only here for the summer?” I said. “I’ll be going back to uni in September.” “I know!” he said, gazing at me. “I’ll worry about that then.” And then we kissed again. Only, for the first time, it was actually me who initiated it. Which obviously pleased Eddie, because he couldn’t stop smiling afterwards. Surprisingly, I didn’t hesitate when he asked if I wanted to go back to his. My only concern was the tirade of questions I’d receive from my mum the next day. Eddie lived in a studio flat. It wasn’t the nicest of places, but it had a certain character. And would have cost at least twice as much to rent in London. Most twenty-something Londoners would have killed to have been able to afford a place like Eddie’s. Probably a fair few thirty-something’s too. I couldn’t help grinning as I looked at his DVD collection. “It’s pretty geeky isn’t it?” he said. “A little!” I said, playfully. “I make no apologies and give zero fucks!” he said. I chuckled. Along with pretty much every superhero film ever made and a vast number of box sets of sci-fi series, he had a surprisingly large number of Disney films, which, for some reason, I found utterly adorable. “OK, you get big points for the Buffy box set. What’s with all the Disney films, though?” “Oh!” he said, a little coyly. “It’s erm … a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. I dunno. I just love them!” I grinned. “Awww! That’s actually really cute.” “Hmmm. A bit like you then!” he said, wrapping his arms around me from the back. We ended up on Eddie’s bed soon after. We started off just kissing with our arms wrapped around each other. Then we undid each other belts and our jeans came off not long after and we started fooling around with each other. Neither of us took our t-shirts off for the entire time. It was a little awkward and fumbly. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt a bit mechanical. Like I was just going along with it for the sake of it. I didn’t cum, either. Eddie did. We giddily laughed as soon as he had and he jumped off the bed to clean himself up. When he came back, we started talking about which Disney films we liked and the moment sort of went. I had no desire to try and get it back either. Touching Eddie, lying in his arms afterwards with my head on his shoulder was kind of nice, even just to share an intimate moment with him. Nothing was really going on with my insides though. No fluttering. No fuzzy feelings. And definitely still no butterflies. His flat also had this weird kind of smell to it too that I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t like AJ’s bedroom. I loved the smell of AJ’s bedroom. I woke up in the middle of the night with a sore head and an overwhelming urge to be back in my own bed. I fumbled for my phone in the pocket of my jeans lying on Eddie’s floor to check the time and saw the very thing that made my whole body want to burst with adrenaline. AJ Jones had sent me a Facebook message. I excitedly unlocked my phone, Eddie asleep next to me. AJ hadn’t just sent me one message. He’d sent a series of messages in the past hour. Fuck! “Guess what I’m doing? Watching Dom and Cole...STONED!” “It’s ducking MAD!” “Fuvking.” “FUCKING. ARGH!” “Noah. You up?” “You’re missing it.” And lastly, a single crying face emoji, sent just ten minutes before. Something twisted in my stomach when I saw that crying face emoji. I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around AJ and make him feel better. Which was absolutely absurd. Because it was a fucking emoji. I could have easily just ignored AJ’s messages. Put my phone back into the jeans of my pocket and gone back to sleep. But I couldn’t resist. I suddenly wanted nothing more in that moment than to talk to AJ. My gorgeous, cute, little AJ. Careful not to wake Eddie, I took my phone and sneaked off to his bathroom. “I’m up!’ I texted. Three dots. “YAY!! Cookie! The Cookster! Ickle Noah Cook!” Sitting on Eddie, toilet, gazing at my phone, my heart just wanted to burst. It was the happiest I’d felt all night. “Hehe! You’re wasted!!” And then he sent three of the AJ emoji’s. I suddenly had the urge to tell him exactly what I’d named that emoji in my head. If there was ever a time to say it, it was probably then. “This is so fucking TRIPPY!!” AJ messaged. “Hehe! POTHEAD!!” “I’m watching the one where they go into Dom’s dream and they’re being chased by the massive doughnuts.” “I LOVE that episode!” I replied. He sent me the smiling and blushing face emoji. “They should bring it back. Do a revival series!” I typed. “OH MY GOD! YES!!” AJ replied. An idea suddenly came to me in that moment. Just popped into my head. I decided to run with it. “Or a spin off!” I typed. And then I quickly followed it up. “How about...AJ and Noah in the Land of Beef?” “OMG!! HAHA!! I LOVE IT!” My heart expanded. I loved it when AJ reacted in such a way to something I’d said, or messaged. “What would the Land of Beef be like then?” AJ messaged. “Full of shredded muscle freaks!” I typed, my cock growing hard at the mention of the thing that turned me on more than anything else in the world. “HELL YEAH!!” AJ replied. “Except maybe my character.” Then I sent the blushing face with eyes wide open emoji. “Hmmm. Maybe not at first. What if you started out as a regular sized person then slowly transformed into a monster throughout the series?” AJ brilliantly messaged. “Erm...FUCK YEAH!” “Hehe! The season finale could be your first bodybuilding show!” “GRRRRR!! You’d be competing with me, obviously!” I replied. “Of course!” And then AJ sent a message which made my head feel like it was going to explode. “I’ll be there to hold your hand.” Fuck!! My heart began to pound. I knew that it was most likely just an innocent comment, but something was racing through my head. What if it meant something more? Was there any minute possibility? Any remote chance, that there was something more to that comment? None of us were typing. I tapped the blushing with eyes wide open emoji, unsure of whether to send it. Fuck it, I thought. There was a pause. Three dots. And then no dots. Nothing. Fuck! The emoji had been too suggestive. He probably thought that I was flirting. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! And then it came through. One single emoji. The AJ emoji. I stared at my phone for the next few minutes. Neither of us were typing anything else. It felt like the right time to call it a night. It felt like a good note to leave on. The next morning I woke up with only one thing on my mind. The last thing AJ had said to me. “I’ll be there to hold your hand.” “Morning! You look happy!” Eddie said to me as he wrapped his arms around my waist and back. The ecstatic grin I’d been wearing as I’d thought of AJ had transformed into a sheepish smile as I looked at Eddie’s face, just inches away from mine. I felt like such a dick. “Were you okay last night?” he asked me. “Yeah. Why?” I asked, surprised. “I was only half asleep but it seemed like you were in the bathroom for ages.” FUCK! “Erm. I think I went a few times,” I lied, feeling like even more of a dick. “My bladder’s terrible when I’ve been drinking.” “Well, thanks for a good night, handsome,” Eddie said, his arm still gripped around my back. I smiled and closed my eyes. My whole body was buzzing. Bursting with excitement and happiness. Not because of the guy I was lying next to, his face mere inches away from mine while his arm wrapped tightly around me. But because I couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of holding AJ Jones’ hand. And the next two chapters are mostly all AJ and Noah together in person! ?

It's almost like you've read one of my stories before?! ??

Oh man, I'm loving this one, you're hitting all of the buttons. While AJ may be outwardly cocky (at least in his pics) , you know inside he's a bit insecure-does Noah think my hyper muscularity is gross, or is he into it? I can't wait for that moment when AJ finally stands in front of Noah and flexes his arm right in front of his face, and Noah knows it's for him. And Noah can completely appreciate the size, shape, and the dedication it took to make that freaky peak that's right in front of his face. I love being teased by muscle, and the pace with which you're giving us these stories is perfect. While I'd love more, you're killing me (in a good way) by making us wait. Keep up the good work my friend. I can't wait for the next installment.

Next chapter! I had the idea to reference all of the bodybuilders from my "Charlie's Secret" story when I was writing this story. Blaine Holton, Tommy Foster and Chris "Freaky Peaks" Jackson have all been mentioned a few times already. The last two are briefly mentioned here. Justin Hughes is one of them. The other is the cute-as-fuck, scrunchy faced bodybuilder in the golden posers, who didn't have a name in Charlie's Secret but was nicknamed "Mr Golden Posers". Thirteen “So, I’ve been thinking about your style of posing for when you compete!” I was lying on my bed exchanging Facebook messages with AJ on my phone. It had been two days since our second trip to Scorpio’s. After which he’d unexpectedly invited me to his house and I’d ended up sitting next to him on his bed watching Netflix and discussing the various muscle freaks stuck to his bedroom wall. I had barely been able to think about anything else since. “My posing style?” I messaged back. “Yep! After Mark Green’s helped you overcome your shyness, of course!” “Hehe! I’m listening!” “So, I can’t picture you being really cocky! Opening your mouth wide, grunting, groaning, roaring at the audience, that kind of thing.” Fuck! My cock was suddenly rock hard. “You’re a bit too much of a nice guy for that.” I couldn’t resist sending the emoji with the blushing face, while simultaneously feeling like I wanted to melt into my mattress. Or into AJ’s obscenely huge arms. Whichever, really. “But I definitely think you’d show a bit of attitude. What with being a huge, shredded muscle freak and all.” “Ummmm. HELL YEAH!” I replied, with the flexed bicep emoji. “Hehe! But I think you’d be more cheeky than cocky. I’ll give you some examples.” As was usual whenever I was talking to AJ, I literally could not stop smiling. “So, you could cheekily scrunch your face up, like “EEEEEE!” as you crank out an abs and thighs.” And then he sent me a picture of a cute-as-fuck bodybuilder in a pair of the hottest golden posers, crunching down on the most phenomenally sliced abs, his eyes jammed tight shut and his whole face animatedly scrunched up as he flexed with effort and joy. “That is one scrunchy little monkey!” I replied, my hard on pressing against my bed. “HAHA! Yep! Or you could cheekily stick your tongue out like this…” A picture of a bodybuilder I was very well acquainted with was suddenly filling up the screen of my phone. Twenty five year old American boy wonder Justin Hughes, who was just about the cutest fucking thing to ever pick up a dumbbell. Even his jug ears were adorable. And even reminded me of AJ’s a little. He wasn’t exactly in monster territory, but he was in insanely shredded condition. His quads looked especially crazy in the picture AJ had sent me, as he squeezed out a crab most muscular pose, while, yep, sticking out his tongue in the cheekiest fashion imaginable. Much like AJ had been in the picture of himself stuck to his bedroom wall. “I can picture me doing that!” I messaged. And then I sent three of the flat tongue emoji’s. “Just practising!” I then typed. “Hehe!! You’ve nailed it already! Here’s another example. Just to make sure.” And then he sent the best, and hottest bodybuilder yet. Himself! Flexing a front double bicep in his lime green posers with his tongue outrageously sticking out. Only he wasn’t on stage this time. He was stood barefoot in his own back garden! FUCKING HELL! I could have easily tugged on my dick and blown a load into my boxers to it. “OH MY GOD!!” I messaged. He sent through a series of emoji’s in response. The monkey covering his eyes, the blushing face, and two of the AJ emoji’s. “I hope the neighbours weren’t looking out the window!!” I replied. “HAHA! I kinda hope they were!” AJ messaged, with a winky face emoji. I loved that statement. God. He was such a cocky little fucker. He clearly loved being a juiced up muscle boy and flexing in his shiny posers, and not just when he was stood on stage at a bodybuilding competition. It was so unspeakably fucking hot. I decided to play along with the idea. “What would Mildred at no.42 think? For God’s sake, Mildred. Whatever you do, don’t look out the window!!” “HAHA!! I LOVE IT!!” And I loved that he loved it. I pictured him, sitting on the bed I’d been on two days before, looking at his phone with one of his big, gorgeous grins on his oh-so-cute face, giggling away at my messages in the adorable, little manner that he did. “OK, one last cheeky fucker who likes to flash his tongue! Guaranteed, you’ve never, EVER seen this guy before. He’s next level freaky!!” FUCK! I braced myself for what AJ was about to send, then howled when the picture came through. It was him again. Only this time, he’d taken a selfie of himself, flexing a single bicep with his eyebrows raised and his tongue flat out in the cockiest manner. I was sure he’d taken it there and then, and it was possibly the greatest thing he could have done in that moment. Possibly the greatest picture anyone had ever sent me, for that matter. “OMG! You weren’t wrong! Jeeez! What a FREAK! I mean, complete and utter inhuman MONSTER!” Three of the AJ emoji’s came through. “How does he find clothes that fit?” I messaged. “God knows! Maybe he just wears his trunks all day!” What a fucking thought! “Hehe!” “He impresses you then?” The question completely threw me. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly as I looked at my phone screen. I didn’t really know what to make of it. I knew AJ was mostly just playing around, but maybe there was something behind it? Did he really care what I thought of his body? The idea of which made my heart flutter. Or maybe he just wanted his ego massaged? Maybe he’d gotten a kick out of the comment I’d made about him looking “pretty big” when we were sat on his bed just a few nights before and he was simply just fishing for another compliment? I decided to play along. “Hehe! Of course!” And then AJ sent the blushing face emoji. Which was so fucking cute and adorable. A response came into my head. I was nervous to type it. Unsure of whether I should. But I was feeling brave. “Do bodybuilders have groupies?” My stomach twisted in knots as three dots appeared on my phone. And then AJ’s message came through. “Hehe! The pros probably do!” I wasn’t sure what to type. I felt like I maybe needed to change the subject, but another three dots appeared. “Would you be that guy’s groupie?” AJ messaged. FUCK! A jolt of excitement surged through me. He definitely wanted me to massage his ego. And then another thought entered my head. Is that what all of this was for AJ? Did he just want me around to feed his ego? To have a slim built, non-muscle beast friend to shock and wow with his freaky physique so he felt like an even bigger monster than he already did? Was this is all just one massive ego trip for AJ? I continued to play along. “HELL YEAH!” I replied. “Hehe! What exactly would you do as his groupie?” AJ messaged. Whatever was going on, I fucking loved this idea that we’d cooked up. Me being AJ’s groupie. The idea of him wanting me to be his groupie. I got the distinct impression that AJ was loving this particular conversation too. “Hmmm. Well, I’d be in the front row at all his competitions, shouting his name and holding up a big banner that said, ‘WE HEART THE RIPPER!’” I couldn’t quite believe how brave I was being with my messages. But it was such a fucking rush. “HAHA!! What bodybuilder wouldn’t want THAT?” AJ messaged. And then he sent me a message that simultaneously made me laugh out loud and caused my heart to start racing. “Imagine if he took off his posing trunks and threw them into the audience!” WHAT THE FUCK?! I sent a single shocked face emoji. My head was spinning. My chest was pounding. And I couldn’t help wondering, just for a split second, if there was any tiny possibility that AJ Jones was actually fucking flirting with me? And then it hit me. What if AJ knew I fancied him? Oh God. Maybe I’d given myself away the first time we’d gone to Scorpio’s and he’d seen the expression on my face when he’d taken his hoodie off? Maybe he’d known even before that? Maybe it had been obvious to him right from the start? Right from that very first encounter at Tesco? And maybe he’d gotten a kick out of it? Maybe he’d loved the attention? So he’d pursued me. He’d tracked me down on Facebook and added me as a friend. And then he’d messaged me. Maybe that was the real ego trip for AJ. Not being a bodybuilder impressing and shocking a regular sized guy with all things bodybuilding related, but being a bodybuilder around a gay guy he clearly made go weak at the knees? God, maybe AJ even knew I had a thing for huge, shredded bodybuilders? And then I wondered, if any of those scenarios were actually true, would it really be that bad? I was friends with a fucking bodybuilder! He was taking me to hardcore bodybuilding gyms with pictures of shredded freaks on the walls, inviting me to his house to watch Netflix in his bedroom (which also had pictures of shredded freaks on the walls!), sending me pictures of him flexing in his obscenely hot posing trunks and making fucking jokes about taking them off and throwing them at me from the stage. What muscle addict wouldn’t absolutely fucking love to be in that position? Maybe I could play along with the whole thing and really have some fun with it? Get him to flex for me (oh God), let me squeeze his flexed muscles, even (OH FUCK)! “OMG! I just caught The Ripper’s posers! His actual posers!” I messaged AJ. “HAHA!! You better not sell them on EBay!” I typed a message without thinking. “I love this”. And then I erased it. It was too much. Way too fucking much. “Bugger! Need to dash, mate. Tesco shift!” I said goodbye to AJ, put my phone aside and rolled over on my bed. I really did love what was happening with AJ and I. Whatever it was. I really fucking loved it. I wanted him there with me so much in that moment. Lying next to me on my bed, his face inches away from mine and one of his huge arms wrapped around me. And then my mind started spiralling and I was imagining a scenario where AJ had asked me to take some pictures of him flexing in his back garden in his posers. I imagined him cranking up the ‘tude and really going for it with his poses. Slamming down hard, making loads of noises. Fuck! I squeezed my throbbing hard on through my jeans when my phone pinged. It was a text from Eddie. “Hey, handsome. We still on for tomorrow?” I looked at my screen. For some reason, I just didn’t want to message him back. I wasn’t one for playing games with guys, but I kind of liked the idea of just letting him stew for a while. Maybe it was a power thing. Because with AJ, I had none. It felt like the power was all very much with him. While with Eddie, he was the one who liked me. He was the one who’d start worrying if I didn’t send a reply. I felt like I needed to hold on that tiny bit of power. Just for a moment. It didn’t last. It wasn’t long before I texted Eddie back, whilst feeling like a massive dick for purposely keeping him waiting. We’d arranged to go for a Chinese the following evening. I got the feeling he wanted to do something other than just go out and get pissed. Maybe it was a test to see whether I was actually interested in him, or whether I just wanted someone close to Little Denton to go out on the gay scene with until I went back to uni? Which, admittedly, was kind of my intention at first. But I really did think Eddie was a great guy. I could very much see myself being friends with him. And you can never have too many friends. Maybe it was time to tell Eddie the truth. That, as lovely as he was, I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate his affections because I was fast becoming completely besotted with the local junior competitive bodybuilder who was sending me cute, funny, amazing messages with pictures of him sticking out his tongue and flexing in his shiny, lime green posing trunks.

Made my day mate. This is a brilliant story. Can’t wait until the next instalment. I am hoping AJ gets even bigger

Please write it! It is one of my favorite storylines and I feel like there aren't ENOUGH stories like it! I can only think of a handful. Plus, knowing your style I know it would be great!

The final part here guys. Sorry it has taken so long to produce. Hope it appeals to some of you! WARNING: Serious macro theme. A new kind of power source Part 6 We overshot just a little. Neither of us was really at fault. Firstly, we were both so caught up in the formidable tide of muscle lust as we strained to grow Tim that the idea of slowing his mega muscle ascension down once his mass had swollen sufficiently bigger than the planet just didn’t cross our minds. And secondly, time kind of went…strange. Remember I said Tim’s invention seemed to control reality? Well, it appears that included the very chronological nature of the universe. Seconds after I gritted my teeth and willed my friend’s muscle mass to be bigger than the Earth, everything sort of…shuddered. There was a sound like a groaning, a straining, not from Tim – well, yes, from Tim, but from everything else as well. It was like every atom of the universe was gasping in horror at what we were trying to accomplish. Like time and space were shitting themselves with fear. As well they might. * And then there we were: floating in the void; the Earth, marble-size to my god, drifting about Tim’s left pectoral; the flickering lights of the stars about us illuminating the crevasses, valleys and mountains of his awesome musculature. Every now and then a tremor of orgasm would shake his vast form and dislodge a planetoid drop of sweat from a shadowy striation. I would watch these for – what? Hours? Days? – as they wove their way down the steep striated canyons of his vast, throbbing, freakish bodybuilder physique, here and there disappearing from sight behind a swollen muscle, only to emerge, reflecting the illumination of the heavens like impossibly huge, god-wrought diamonds, before sweeping off a flexed calf or grotesque deltoid and disappearing into the darkness, twinkles fading gradually from sight. Tim was the first to speak. His voice rattled the solar system. His breath whipped up a firestorm upon the surface of the sun. He glanced down at his colossal frame, many many times wider than he was tall, swollen so much with godlike mass that he barely resembled a human anymore. Even as his planet-sized blue eyes flicked from one mind-numbing muscle group to the next, he felt his brawn continue to thicken, his sinews and bones growing denser and denser to support his staggering mass. “HMMM, NOT BAD,” he growled. “WHAT HAPPENED, SPECK? DID I GROW?” He raised a vein-choked arm, slowly flexing the meta-bicep into cosmic, peaked hugeness. “I STILL FEEL SMALL.” Battling through my sudden disorientation I let myself fall back onto his fingertip, a single print of which could have hidden most of the western hemisphere of the little orb now floating dangerously close to his chest. I had long given up trying to control my cock, which was still spurting cum like a fleshy hose. Tearing my eyes away from that arm nearly killed me, I swear – but I just had to see the rest of him. I was like a machine, a one man sperm factory, my eyes feasting on his vastness and churning out cum by the bucketload. “You…grew, stud…” I gasped through the bliss of orgasm as I contemplated my god’s new mass. His perfectly symmetrical ten-pack abs, each surely denser than anything else in the universe, clenched as Tim purred in response. “But it was so sudden. And did you feel that shudder? It was like we broke time or something. We just thought about growing you this big and POOF! That was it. Instantaneous.” “GOOD.” His voice throbbed through my very core. “THEN I CAN GET A LOT BIGGER. I’M FED UP WITH THESE TESTS WHERE I ONLY GAIN A COUPLE OF BILLION TONNES OF MASS. THAT’S SO GODDAMN PUNY. IT’S TIME TO REALLY LET RIP WITH THE DEVICE – SEE HOW BIG I CAN GET, NO HOLDS BARRED. READY?” Caught in mid-orgasm I struggled to gel my thoughts together. “Wait, Tim! Just stop for a moment. Don’t you think this is amazing? A device you created has given us control of REALITY? I mean, we’re able to speak in space and everything! And how come I’m still alive in this vacuum? How come you’re still alive? And how can I see your mass when you should be a blur? And-” Tim let out a low grunt that shook the solar system. “SI – I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WANTED ME TO GROW AS BIG AS POSSIBLE?” “I…I do…” “THEN WOULD YOU QUIT QUESTIONING EVERYTHING? THIS IS EVERYTHING YOU’VE EVER DREAMED ABOUT, EVERYTHING I’VE EVER DREAMED ABOUT. ME, TO BECOME THE GOD OF MUSCLE, JUST LIKE ALL THOSE TIMES WE RPED…” “I know…” He raised me to his bicep. Way bigger than Earth, the beastly mass of muscular perfection strained under the pale flesh, peaked impossibly massive, an unclimbable galactic MOUNTAIN of MAN. Unfortunately for Earth, the movement caused by Tim turning his body trapped the planet between his ungodly heaving pectorals whereupon the little globe was ground into space dust. But I could barely acknowledge its demise, so fixed was I on the mound of striated power and strength that filled my vision. Tim gave his bicep a couple of flexes, and the solar system shuddered again. The merest ripples shook Mars from its orbit and sent it on a trajectory towards the sun. “FEEL IT,” Tim boomed. I reached up, my hand comically tiny against his muscle’s diamond-hard majesty. “TELL ME: IS THIS BICEP BIG ENOUGH FOR YOU? I MEAN, REALLY BIG ENOUGH? OR DO YOU THINK IT COULD DO WITH BEING A BIT BIGGER?” I could barely speak. The moment I touched his arm I had started orgasming again. “YOU TOLD ME ONCE THAT YOU HAD NEVER MET ANYONE LIKE ME BEFORE. THAT EVERYONE ON THE MUSCLE SITES YOU VISITED WHO CLAIMED TO WANT TO GROW ONLY WANTED A FEW HUNDRED POUNDS MORE. I WAS THE FIRST PERSON YOU’D MET WHO DIDN’T HAVE AN UPPER LIMIT TO THE AMOUNT OF MASS THEY CRAVED. THE FIRST PERSON TO REALLY BELIEVE THAT THERE IS NEVER SUCH A THING AS BIG ENOUGH, WHEN IT COMES TO MUSCLE.” My cock exploded as his words settled in the silence of space, but no sooner had I finished ejaculating, it was rock solid again. Was this part of the reality-warping power of the device too? To keep my balls constantly refilled? Upon my head, the colander crackled faintly through the humming as though in agreement. “AND YOU’RE THE FIRST GUY I’VE EVER MET WHO FELT THE SAME WAY AS ME. WE ARE TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN, YOU AND I. I COULD HAVE PINGED ANYONE ON YM EARLIER THIS EVENING. BUT I CHOSE YOU. BECAUSE YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHOSE DESIRE FOR ME TO GROW IS AS GREAT AS MINE.” He chuckled, a nuclear explosion of sound from deep within his mighty chest. “AS INFINITE AS MINE. SURE, OTHER PEOPLE MIGHT HAVE HELPED ME GROW THIS BIG – BUT ONLY YOU CAN HELP ME GET BEYOND THIS PUNY SIZE. I NEED YOU, SI.” He paused. “SO I ASK YOU AGAIN: IS THIS BICEP BIG ENOUGH FOR YOU?” Somehow I found the words. “No…it’s still too small. Way too small. Look at you – you’re puny. Not even bigger than the solar system. You need to be so much bigger dude.” A grin split his handsome face far, far above me even as his incalculably vast arm lowered and his hand began once again to work his astronomical cock. “HOW BIG?” “Millions of times bigger!” I started pumping my own tool. “No, bigger than that!” “YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!” He moaned in bliss. “IT’S INSTANTANEOUS, REMEMBER? ANY SIZE AND I’LL BE THAT BIG IN MOMENTS. AND CHOOSE BIG, SI. AS BIG AS YOU DESIRE.” I was working myself into an orgasmic frenzy. He was right. I could wish for anything…. As big as… …as… I gasped. “I want you to grow as big as I desire!” I shouted, voice echoing about his fingertip. “My desire is limitless, you said. Well, so should your growth be.” The groaning that had accompanied Tim’s ascension to space-floating stud began again, but quickly turned to screams. Reality sure was kicking up a fuss in its death-throes. “LIMITLESS…LIMITLESS MUSCLE MASS…YYYYYEEEEESSSSSS!” And just like that, Tim’s muscle exploded across the galaxy. ... Ahem, sorry. Tim’s muscle EXPLODED across the galaxy. * Space was the first thing to be conquered by Tim’s ever-growing mass. His vast, striated physique slammed up against the walls of the universe within a picosecond. Everything that existed – from the weediest atom to the mightiest of suns – was swept aside by his swelling musculature, crushed into nothingness between the vast, grating plateaus of brawn as his grotesquely monstrous muscles bunched with every flex, or absorbed into their rapidly enlarging mass. But the device wasn’t done with him. Not by a long shot. Limitless means, well, limitless after all. With a mighty flex, Tim’s incomparable, freakish thews broke through the walls of the universe. Hungry for size, his muscles grew with a fervour that shocked even him as they tore through the multiverse. “YESSS!” His universal voice, deep and resonating with unheard-of potency, rose up from deep within the vast, staggering, striated mass of his chest. “SO BIG! SO FUCKING MUSCULAR! BUT NOT BIG ENOUGH! NEVER BIG ENOUGH!” Before another picosecond had passed Tim began flexing each of his sickeningly colossal muscles in a posing display that would cause any bodybuilder’s mind to explode from incomprehensible jealousy. With every squeeze his muscles only grew bigger, faster. A double bi shattered 100,000 universes. An ab flex crunched 500 billion more. The “infinite” multiverse filled with Tim’s muscles as they bloomed ever bigger, ever more dense with every fraction of time. “DAMN IT! STILL TOO SMALL! TOO PUNY! I NEED WAAAAY MORE MASS! SO MUCH MORE! BIGGER! COME ON YOU FUCKING DEVICE! GROW ME! GRRRRR!” While time had all but completely frozen, Tim’s growth still seemed to be taking forever. Gone were thoughts of Earth, of YM, of anything but impossible growth. So it was quite a surprise when, a splinter of a picosecond later, Tim saw himself rising up to meet himself. * Tims had grown in other universes, of course. Some of those other Tims had even made it as far as the multiverse. But their ascent had been just a little too slow, or their will to grow as massively muscular as possible not as resolute as our Tim’s, and they had been destroyed, crushed by his expanding mass. This Tim was different. Since he had started growing with the help of his Yippee Messenger (YM for short) buddy Steven, his only thought had been to get bigger and bigger. When he first outgrew his Earth, and later his universe, he had finally thought that all his dreams about vast, endless muscle mass were going to come true. Then he had spotted himself. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” They both said at once. As frighteningly muscular as the two now were, each swollen to half the size of the multiverse, they were tiny, pathetically weak compared to how big they wanted to be. How big I – and Steven – wanted them to be. Like some kind of Mexican standoff, the two, still swelling bigger and bigger, hideously muscular pecs straining across reality between them, looked each other’s mass up and down. “KIND OF SMALL AREN’T YOU, RUNT?” My Tim grunted with a cocky grin, flexing a peaked bicep the size of an infinite number of universes. “LOOK WHO’S TALKING, PUNY.” Tim might have been about to say something in response, but just then the rippling mass of his back slammed into the membrane at the edge of the multiverse. I was thrown to my knees from the shock. I noticed, as I clambered back to my feet, that my opposite number, perched, as I was, on his Tim’s finger, was doing the same. So both Tims had outgrown reality. Which meant that the only space left…was each other. * As their heaving musculatures collided, each swelling to conform to the mass of the other, striations slipping between striations, I realised that this was the end. There was no way Tim – my Tim – could grow any bigger. The other Tim was simply taking up too much space. Darkness – and the raw smell of MAN – fell across reality. A horrid grinding, creaking noise, as their swelling muscles began to fight for space against each other’s, filled my ears. I wondered how long my own little space around Tim’s finger would last. It wouldn’t take much at all to grind me to paste. Should I try to hide in one of the universe-swallowing valleys of Tim’s fingertips? Would that be enough to save me? “BIGGER!” Both titans yelled at once. Like an alarm, it snapped me out of my cycle of orgasm. I snatched at the tatters of my mind, trying to pull myself together. I was so used to the casually miraculous – a breathable environment outside of space itself, my ability to perceive even my other self, who should have been infinitesimally small, on the fingertip of his own Tim, not to mention the simply miracle of, OH, CAUSING A MUSCLE STUD TO NEARLY OUTGROW REALITY – that it was a sobering truth that this was one situation the device couldn’t get us out of. In their grapple for space, one of the two Tims must have moved, for a tiny thread of light seeped into my world. All about me the multiverse was filled with striated, pumped mass, muscles fighting against one another in an epic, straining battle, sinew against sinew, still growing ever more massive. And then I saw it. Staggeringly huge, it threatened to shut down my mind even as I gawped up at it, breaking down the walls of my imagination itself and reducing me to some gibbering wreck on the endless fleshy plain that was Tim’s fingertip. The other Tim’s swollen cock, dripping with pre. And it was pointed right at me. * Life is too complicated sometimes. It was almost refreshing to have my reality reduced to a simple equation. An Option A or Option B, if you will. Option A: get crushed as the behemoths’ mass eventually fills the last of the space in the multiverse. Option B: get drowned in cum. My little corner of reality darkening as the incomprehensibly vast cockhead swelled open and the other Tim’s balls began to clench, I frantically debated my options. A or B? It looked as though the decision was being made for me. “GOTTA GET BIGGER!” The other Tim was yelling, stirring himself on towards orgasm. “SO MUCH BIGGER THAN YOU! THE BIGGEST! I WILL BE EVERYTHING! MY MASS WILL BE LIMITLESS!” The cockhead, like some terrible, dark mouth, opened wide and I saw the first silvery globe of cum flicker menacingly at the entrance. A globe that would shroud my Tim’s finger – and likely send me spinning off into God-knows-where. I could survive in space. I could survive outside of space. But would I survive this? I didn’t think so. I grimaced, sickly. Space wasn’t the problem anymore. Time was. … Wait – Time? “Tim!” I yelled. Though there was no need. We were linked through the device. “KIND OF…ULF…BUSY HERE, SI!” He grunted back. “You wanted limitless growth, but we were thinking too small. We were just thinking of space, Tim – but right here, right now, that’s only one fraction of time. And a tiny fraction at that.” The other Tim’s cock exploded. Luckily, Tim and I were communicating through thought – instantaneous thought. This gave me – oh, a fraction of a picosecond. An eternity, really. I hurried on nonetheless: “What if we wish not just for your muscle to grow everywhere – but everywhen as well? Literally allowing you to expand your mass into time as well as space? You’d be the past and future of the multiverse as well, not just the present…” His response was predictably enthusiastic. “I COULD GET EVEN BIGGER? WITH EVEN MORE MASS?” “Ha ha! Your mass has thus far only been in a single point of time – if we expand you across all points of time, your growth would be, essentially, infinite…” “LET’S DO IT, SI! THINK HARD: I WANT TO BECOME EVERYWHEN, ALL TIME AND ALL SPACE, MY MUSCLE EXPANDING INTO THE PAST, THE FUTURE…EVERY POSSIBLE REALITY…INSTANTANEOUSLY…” I broke the conversation just long enough to see the first monumental squirt of man-juice rumbling towards me like some dark and terrible storm front. Then everything shattered. * That’s right, shattered. Like glass. Bits and pieces of reality fracturing off and themselves breaking up into ever tinier fragments. ... And here I am. What else can I tell you? I know that Tim swelled into the past first, inadvertently crushing everything that has ever happened into chronological dust between his forearm and bicep, before his mass swelled out into every possible future. His striated brawn thickening as it spread across an infinite number of possible multiverses, I know Tim flexed and revelled in his new size, even as his lust for size grew more and more vast. Then he started experimenting with time and space, creating pockets that he could then swell into…then whole universes….then entire realities. Personally, I still think he’s too small. He could do with being a bit bigger. Ok, a LOT bigger. But there’s not much he can do about that now. You see, Tim doesn’t have his device any more. I do. Both of them, actually, on my desk here beside me as I write this. I’m not sure why I exist in this current reality, at this current time. Why Tim hasn’t just expanded into this time and space that he created as he has in so many others. But I have a theory. I think he has forgotten he even created this reality. He’s just too obsessed with his own size to keep track of the little details. Hell, there are probably thousands of little realities he has yet to expand his mass into. But don't be upset with your insignificance. After all, it gives us something of an…opportunity. This reality has no Tim in it. I checked. I even went to his house in Swindon, only to find an elderly couple living there. Different realities, different details. But I know he's out there somewhere. I know YOU are out there somewhere. Which is why I’m sharing his story with you. In this reality, you might not even be called Tim. You could be a Bob, or a Kevin. You might be from Hull, or Glasgow – hell, maybe New York or Delhi. But you want to grow. You want impossible, freakish muscle mass more than anything. And once you start growing, you know you won’t be able to stop. You think you’re a freak. That no-one understands your craving for size. That's what people used to think about Tim, and look what he achieved. See, muscle growth is not about steroids or laser beams. It’s not about nanobites, magic spells or potions. There’s a new kind of power source in town. Desire. Mine is limitless. I want to see if we can get this reality’s Tim as big as my own. Ok, maybe a bit bigger. All right. A LOT bigger. How's yours?

This is a story I wrote years ago for my "Muscle Addicts Inc" blog. I've been going over it and making a few tweaks here and there and thought I'd share it here as I work on it. It's far from perfect but some of you guys might like it, or parts of it anyway! CHARLIE’S SECRET One My name is Charlie Steatham and I have a secret. It’s not a secret because it’s something I’m ashamed of. On the contrary, it’s something I love having. A part of me I wouldn’t ever want to change. It’s just not the kind of thing that would really be appropriate to tell a person in most given situations, or the kind of thing the majority of people would really understand even if I did. Let me tell you how I came to discover I even had this secret to keep. It was one Saturday afternoon back in England. I was home alone and innocently flicking through a magazine my parents bought weekly, which specialised in, of all things, radio and television listings. I wasn’t really reading it, just half heartedly turning the pages, stopping every now and then to linger on the odd thing which caught my attention, unbeknownst to me that I was about to stumble on to something which would have the strangest, and most incredible effect on me. An effect like nothing had ever had on me before. Something which would lead me to a world I never even knew existed. I remember feeling my eyes physically widening when I first saw the picture, and how it felt like my heart actually stopped beating for just a millisecond of time. Staring at it, I couldn’t quite get my head around what I was seeing, and why it seemed to have me so completely transfixed. Staring up at me from the page, was the most grotesquely muscular man I had ever seen. Every single one of his body parts was enormous. From the neck up he just looked like an ordinary man, he was handsome for sure, with nothing particularly special about his features, except for the fact his skin was a dark bronzed colour with an oily shine, but from the neck down, his whole body was a mass of gigantically huge, almost cartoon-like balloons of hard, smooth, muscle, bulging so much they looked as if they were about to burst. Every muscle was deeply separated, and most had a number of thick, wiry veins running across them. I had seen muscular guys before. Movie stars and athletes with six packs and tight, hard toned bodies, but the man in this image was something else entirely. He didn’t even look like a human being. He looked like a new superior species of the human race. A sick experiment gone wrong. Some kind of otherworldly creature, computer generated for a superhero film. As this monstrously massive muscle freak of nature, completely naked except for a small, shiny, green pouch covering his genitals, his hands resting on the top of his enormously thick legs, biting down on his lower lip and his face contorted into an almost arrogant but hugely proud expression, like he was having a whale of a time simply just possessing that freakishly huge, anatomy chart like body, stared up at me from the pages of this incredibly ordinary magazine in the living room of my parents incredibly ordinary house, I was completely and utterly hypnotised. My heart was pounding, my mind was racing, and for some reason, my penis was rock hard, twitching and pushing against the material of my boxers and jeans which were now struggling to contain it. This thing which had unexpectedly intruded on me from another world seemed to have this incredible hold and power over me, and I had now idea why. It didn’t feel wrong, but I knew that whatever this effect it was having on me was, it definitely wasn’t of the ordinary. After staring at the image for what seemed like hours, I forced myself out of my muscle obsessed trance, and tried to focus my mind on something else, but I couldn’t. My mind had been invaded, and my thoughts completely taken over by the image of that freakishly huge mountain of enormous muscle. I needed to see it again. I took the magazine into my bedroom and lay on my side on the bed, my upper body perched up by my elbow, the magazine next to me, flat on the bed. I flicked through the pages to try and find the image, and when I did, it was like I was seeing it for the first time all over again. I had no idea what was happening to me, all I knew was that in front of me was something so amazing and special. I had never desired anything more than this specimen of extreme muscle mass. This huge, hulking mountain of thick, superhuman muscle with his air of incredible power, extreme arrogance and hyper masculinity was the most beautiful and sexually provocative thing I had ever laid eyes on. I reached for my throbbing hard on, bulging and straining through my jeans, gently squeezed and started tugging. Soon enough I was popping open the buttons of my jeans and my white cotton boxer encased hard on was sticking out. I tugged and wanked, all the time staring at the muscle freak before me. Staring at the huge mounds of croquet ball shaped muscles which popped from his arms and fought for space with his perfectly smooth and insatiably thick chest, which looked like it was made of marble, but had tiny, wiry veins spread across the upper half. Staring at how his deeply carved shoulders ballooned like two watermelons trapped under bronzed tinted skin, which tightly stretched across the enormous, smooth muscle and looked unhealthily thin. Staring at his six beautifully shaped stomach muscles which looked like they had been carved with a knife. Staring at the incredible mass of lines and ripples etched into his tremendously large, hard looking leg muscles, and while staring at this presumably once ordinary sized man who’d built and moulded his entire body to extreme proportions and made himself look like a member of an entirely new, superior species, who looked up at me from my bed with an expression of complete and utter self satisfaction, and his air of incredible power and arrogance, my entire body seemingly shook, the most pleasurable sensation I’d ever had consumed my entire body, I let out a loud groan of ecstasy and my boxers filled up with a wet creamy liquid. Staring at a picture of, who I later found out was one of the top professional American bodybuilders of the time, hitting a most muscular pose on stage at a bodybuilding competition in probably the best condition of his career, I’d masturbated and made myself cum for the first time in my life. From that moment on, I’ve been completely obsessed with huge, freaky muscle. Nothing turns me on more than the image of competition ready, monstrously muscular, indecently shredded bodybuilders who live and breathe for being huge, who love nothing more than to climb into small, brightly coloured posing trunks, made of the shiniest material imaginable, and to stand in front of a camera, or an audience, and flex, tense and squeeze their cartoonishly big, deliciously carved, deeply separated balloons of thick, hardcore muscle mass, looking both impossibly beautiful and inhumanly grotesque in equal measures, loving every single moment of showing off their phenomenally built, superhero-worthy, circus sideshow freak-like bodies. As one can imagine, it’s a fantasy that stubbornly stays at that; a fantasy. How many ripped and peeled competitive bodybuilders sporting biceps bigger than the size of the average man’s head do you see walking round your local supermarket? None. And how many jacked and shredded muscle freaks one week away from competing at their fourth bodybuilding show of the year do you see on a Friday night at the local pub? Absolutely zero. Of course, there have been some very rare, and exceptionally brilliant moments where I’ve encountered fairly big guys sporting some pretty decently sized muscle, one or two of whom could have easily stepped onto a bodybuilding stage at some point, at various places, and of course, those moments will probably be forever etched into my memory, but for the most part, genuinely huge muscle guys, and certainly bodybuilders like the one in the magazine I found all those years ago, and the ones I have spent countless hours watching and viewing ever since, still remain an extremely elusive and rare breed. The world of extreme bodybuilding is an exceptionally small one, to which I have no ties or belonging to. Except for finding the courage to attend a bodybuilding show which I’ve yet to do, it’s a world I didn’t think there was much chance I would ever step into. That was, until today. Or to be more precise, two Tuesday’s ago, when Professor Walsh (officially my favourite lecturer from the university in California I’m temporarily studying at for a term) presented myself and my fellow students from my Video and Audio Production Techniques class with a list of the options for the first, one day work experience placement of the semester. This is a day where every student on the course has the opportunity to participate in the filming of various types of film, television and video productions. Every student has to select three options, and the Professor tries her best to assign the student to one of their choices. This is not always possible though because, as you can imagine, some of the options are more popular than others and there are only so many students allowed on each placement. Some of the students, usually the louder, more extroverted ones, were intent on getting the big gigs like production on the set of a film, and popular television talk shows. Personally, I was happy with anything that would give me some experience. Copies of the list were passed around to raised voices and excited chatter. I scanned the list to see, sure enough, a well known television talk show, work on an independent film, the set of a fairly well known cop show from cable who were filming in the area, work for a local news television station, and some more fairly obscure productions. Although nothing was particularly standing out as something I had a real desire to do, it all sounded pretty exciting. And then, as my eyes steered down to the bottom of the page, they suddenly widened, my heart leaped into my throat, and I almost couldn’t believe what I saw written on the last line, as the very last option; Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition. My head was spinning. Was this really happening? Was the universe finally providing me with an entry into this world I never thought I would enter? I kept checking the list, looking at the words again, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, and sure enough, there it was. My opportunity to be at, and take part in the filming of an actual bodybuilding competition. I suddenly pictured myself backstage at a bodybuilding competition, in a space packed full of massive, bronzed painted muscle men wearing nothing but tiny sized, thinly strapped posing trunks, each pair shinier and brighter than the next. Every single superhuman muscle brute of a man intensely pumping up his shockingly huge muscles, grunting and huffing with every lift as their huge slabs of man meat strain and bulge through their completely hairless, drum tight skin, and me, standing next to a cameraman, closely filming every single pump of a massive, competition conditioned All American muscle freak, mere inches away from his blown up balloons of bulging, rippling muscle. The fact that I was looking at the opportunity to be in the presence of the kind of muscle bulls I’d been wanking off over for years and to see their enormous, freaky muscle up close in person was mind blowing. However, it terrified me just as much as it excited me. The two days which followed were spent agonising over what to do with this opportunity I’d been unexpectedly faced with. My mind was completely split in half. It felt like two voices had invaded my head, one voice saying, “You have to do this. This is a rare, once in a lifetime opportunity and you will never get this again. It will absolutely amazing, it will blow your mind and you’ll get to see real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up. Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you will always regret it.” Meanwhile, the other voice was shouting, “Don’t be stupid, you can’t do this. You will make a fool of yourself. You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you and think you are strange. And how will you explain your reason for wanting to do this to your classmates, and Professor Walsh?” One minute, a certain voice would sound clearer than the other, and I would make what I thought was my final decision. But then, out of nowhere, the other voice would suddenly shout up again, and I’d start to doubt my decision again. Even on the day of handing in our choices, sitting in Professor Walsh’s class, with five minutes to spare before the lesson came to a close, I still hadn’t made my final decision. I also knew that if I selected the bodybuilding competition, there was a very good chance I would get the placement. I couldn’t say for definite, but I knew it was fairly unlikely that any of my other classmates would select it as an option. There were a couple of guys in my class with a little bit of muscle on them who clearly went to the gym, but I would have been highly surprised if any of them had a genuine interest in bodybuilding. It was, without a doubt, one of those obscure placements to make up the numbers which nobody wanted to end up on. Well, almost nobody. Professor Walsh was wrapping up the lesson. “OK, class, you might have noticed this red box at the front of my desk.” This was it. My time was up. “By now I presume you’ve all made your three choices for next weekend’s work experience placement,” Professor Walsh continued. “If you’d like to place your completed sheets into the box as you leave. Please keep in mind, you are not guaranteed a place on any of your choices. We will do our best to assign you to one of your choices, but due to limited spaces on each placement, in some cases this will not be possible.” My classmates had started to shift and while everyone was getting out their sheets and gathering their bags in order to leave, I was staring at my sheet with my pen anxiously hovering over it. Two of my choices had been ticked, which just left one. The words “Bodybuilding Competition” leered up at me, testing my every nerve and ounce of bravery. My pen was wavering from the tick box next to it, to the box next to the option of “Production on a Music Video.” The voices in my head both clearer and more frantic than ever, one in battle with the other. Bodybuilding Competition Charlie, you HAVE to do this! Music Video Don’t be stupid. You will make a fool of yourself. Bodybuilding Competition Just imagine it! Real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up! Music Video You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you, and think you are strange! Bodybuilding Competition Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you know you will ALWAYS regret it! And with one quick motion, I ticked the box next to my third and final option, and my fate was sealed. My heart was pounding as I approached the box on Professor Walsh’s desk, and my hands were shaking slightly as I dropped the sheet in. The second after, I glanced up to see Professor Walsh looking at me behind her desk. A friendly smile was trying to mask an expression of curiosity and slight confusion. She had clearly noticed my anxiety and I felt a sharp, brief pinch that I might have been rumbled. The incident quickly faded from memory, and as I left the classroom and walked along the corridor, the strongest emotion of elation, sheer pride and an overwhelming feeling that I had just done something amazing came over me. I had just taken one step closer to that crazy, amazing world of huge, freaky muscle I never thought I would ever be able to enter.

TWINK NUMBER TWELVE (or “FUCK ZOMBIES -- THE SERIES”) (A Later Chapter from the “Saul Bennett” Saga) By absman420 (AUTHOR’S NOTE: After reading Tattcub’s awesome contribution my “Saul Bennett” universe, I decided I wanted to play with a chapter myself. So, yes, this is a sequel to “Why You Shouldn’t Trust Saul Bennett”, but not a direct sequel -- it would come somewhat later, near the denouement of the series. And it doesn’t end the saga, either. Ha! But it should give you some idea of what I was intending to do with the overall plot.. (Thanks, tattcub, for re-inspiring me.) ************ They wanted to film a test scene -- that’s all Mikey knew as he walked into the studio -- but he had attitude, anyway. They were making him audition, like he was just some kid looking for work, not an established name at a major studio. He’d heard rumors that the producer guy, this Saul Bennett he was meeting today, was kind of an asshole. But he was big in the industry -- really big -- he could make or break a guy’s career. And MIkey was kind of hoping for “make” -- he’d suck anybody’s cock for the right incentive. And Mikey was a VERY talented bottom boy. Youth and flexibility -- and a seemingly insatiable sexual appetite -- kept the public interested. No matter who was fucking him, not matter what the scene, no matter the budget, Mikey looked like he loved it. And in fact, he really did. He got to fuck for hours on end with these amazingly hot guys in front of an audience -- nothing could be more tailor-made. Right before he got out of his car, he did a little bump of tina -- it helped him relax and ride the ride -- he had a whole little system of bathroom breaks worked out to keep his buzz fresh when shooting. He kept a supply in his makeup kit. The offices were on the ground level and the studio was in the basement -- so they could control light and noise more easily, Mikey guessed. He quickly crossed the parking lot and entered the building, thinking to himself how empty and deserted the area was -- an anomaly in Southern California -- but porn studios had to exist where they could afford to, he supposed, usually on the outskirts of society. Mikey entered the reception area and found it empty, though the lights were on and the background music was lightly playing -- it appeared as if the receptionist had just stepped out for a second. On the other hand, Mikey thought, it WAS a Saturday -- maybe there was no weekend receptionist? The receptionist’s desk was completely clean but for one manilla envelope that had Mikey’s name written on it in marker. He dropped his backpack the floor and opened the envelope -- a handwritten note paperclipped to a form. “MIKEY --” the note read, “WE ARE DOWNSTAIRS IN PRODUCTION. PLEASE SIGN THE ATTACHED RELEASE AND JOIN US ON SET AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. THANKS, SAUL BENNETT” A standard release form with the title “FUCK ZOMBIES -- The Series” across the top. “Zombie Porn?” Mikey thought, rolling his eyes. “What next…?” Giggling to himself, he quickly signed the form, assuming it was like all the others he’d signed through the years. He wasn’t sure whether to leave it on the desk or take it with him to give to them on set, but he quickly decided on the latter and stuffed it into his backpack. He didn’t see the small digital camera mounted on the wall behind the desk that emotionlessly recorded his signing the form, stuffing it into his backpack and exiting the office. He didn’t see the camera in the hallway that followed his progress to the staircase leading downstairs to the studio, either. More, he didn’t realize the staircase door locked behind him as he went through. Mikey had no idea that he was already in the movie. ********** There was nothing to tell him he shouldn’t -- no production light, no sign -- so Mikey pushed the door open and stepped inside, hearing the swoosh and click of the door closing behind him. It was a big space -- bigger than anything Mikey had ever worked in -- easily a thousand square feet, each corner with a separate set (except the corner he was standing in, that just had production equipment, cameras and cables and boxes) -- great porn backgrounds. But empty -- not a soul on set, although lit like they were filming -- it’s like everybody took a smoke break at the same time. The place stank of new sex and old sweat. “Hello?” Mikey tentatively called, his voice echoing through the space as he looked around more carefully. In the far left corner was a locker room set, replete with a row of metal lockers, a tiled shower area, a urinal and a wooden bench. The far right corner, another set, a wrestling mat with a giant scoreboard on the wall behind it, another bench and a banner reading “PRIAPUS U” in collegiate font. And before him was the gym set, a squat rack, a cable crossover, big mirrors on the wall for the Priapus Tops to flex for themselves, and a bench press, partially obscured in Mikey’s sightline. But then he heard somebody move, as if coming to awareness themselves. “Hello?” Mikey called, taking a few steps forward. Again, another moan -- and then Mikey could see. There was a guy tied to the bench press! “What the fuck…?” Mikey said under his breath as he quickened his pace. Okay, it’s a porn set, and the guy was tied to the bench with those rubber warm-up bands that bodybuilders use to pump up with, but still… The guy was face down on the bench, his hips straddling the end, so that he wasn’t quite able to kneel on the floor -- his arms tied to the opposite end with the rubber bands, so he couldn’t get up either. He wore the remains of a jockstrap and athletic socks pulled to the knee -- from the looks of it, his hole had been worked hard -- there was clearly the remains of sex leaking from him. From the sounds he made on Mikey’s approach, he was clearly gagged, too. Nicely built guy, lean, swimmer’s bod -- oddly, there was something familiar about him. It wasn’t until Mikey saw him from the front that he recognized the poor gagged boy. “BUNNY?!?” he nearly screamed, kneeling to pull the gag off. (The gag was a jockstrap tied round Bunny’s head, holding another jockstrap that had been stuffed in his mouth -- both used.) “What the fuck…? What’s going on?” Bunny was talking before the jockstrap was completely out. “You gotta get out of here!” he squealed in his bass-less tenor. “Hurry! Before he comes back! It’s not a movie, Mikey! It’s not a fucking movie!” Mikey frantically untied the rubber straps, trying desperately to free his friend. “Hold on,” he whispered. “Almost got it….” And then he did! “There!” Bunny was nearly crying, trying to sit up on the bench -- Mikey had seen Bunny naked a million times, but he’d never noticed fey little Bunny being in this kind of shape -- he looked like a swimmer, not a twink. Bunny must be off the meth. “He just kept fucking me and fucking me. He was fucking relentless!” Mikey sat next to him and held him as he regained his strength. “What happened, Bunny?” he tried to say calmly. “What’s going on?” The tears started to flow. “I thought it was a movie,” he sobbed. “Just a scene -- but with Mick Masterman! A fucking legend! Who wouldn’t do that?” “Mick Masterman? That limp-dicked old has-been…?” “NO!” Bunny yelled, suddenly agitated again -- scared. “He was on something! He was fucking HUGE, like some over-roided bodybuilder, hairy… crazy! Like, roid-rage crazy! And his cock -- that gigantic cock... he just. Kept. Fucking!” Sobbing again, Bunny buried his head in Mikey’s neck. Mikey tried to comfort him, reaching around his friend’s well-defined upper back (since when did Bunny have such a nice build?), but in fact, his only real thought was escape. Escape and sort it out later. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. But they weren’t able to leave -- the door was locked. It must’ve locked behind him as Mikey had entered. Fuck. He banged against the handle a few times, to no avail -- it was locked. Fuck. His cell phone! He tapped his pockets -- it was in his backpack! He’d put it on airplane mode and slipped it into his pack so it wouldn’t interfere with filming. He’d dropped his backpack by the camera when he first saw Bunny. There! Mikey squatted down and dug the phone out -- no signal, of course. They were in a basement -- when he heard Bunny say, “Do I look bigger to you?” Mikey looked up to see Bunny looking at himself in the mirrors of the gym set. “What?” “I’m bigger,” Bunny said, caught somewhere between joy and horror as he timidly flexed. “What’s happening to me?” Mikey wanted to remain calm -- he wanted to be the strong one, the leader -- but he really wasn’t that Alpha-type. Worse, he was still under Tina’s influence. Still, points to Mikey for trying so hard. “We gotta get out of here,” he said, as he approached Bunny. “C’mon… we’ll figure it out later.” “What if what they’d done to that guy Masterman was, like, something you could CATCH? Like an STD?” “Bunny, that’s fucking crazy,” Mikey said, putting his arm around Bunny’s shoulders and trying to lead the muscular twink toward the door. “It’s the lights, or the mirrors, or something -- we’ll figure it out later.” But Bunny shook him off, keeping his focus on his reflection. “But you should’ve seen that guy, Mikey. He was huge -- like the Hulk huge. And he just kept fucking me with that huge cock…” Mikey suddenly noticed Bunny’s cock, barely held by the tattered jockstrap he’d been raped in -- Bunny’s cock was getting hard. “I’m getting bigger, Mikey. Like, I’m a regular GYM-Bunny now!” He put his hands behind his head and flexed his abs, smirking. “Look at that!” he said, more to himself than Mikey. “This is crazy…” “Bunny....” “It’s okay, Mikey,” he said -- double biceps -- “I feel okay. Better than okay.” His cock WAS getting harder. “Bunny, five minutes ago you were tied to a bench press being raped -- you’re NOT okay.” Bunny flexed his impressive pecs, lost in his own reflection. “Yeah, he fucked me pretty good,” Bunny said, adjusting his growing cock absently. Once he touched it, though, it got his attention. “Holy fuck,” he said. “My cock, too! My fucking COCK is bigger!” “Bunny…” “No, seriously, dude! My cock is bigger. I don’t know what they did to me -- but I’m getting muscles and I’m fuckin’ horny as hell at the same time! This is fuckin’ crazy! LOOK AT ME!!!” He was bigger now -- there was no question about it. Bunny was literally growing before their eyes. What the fuck was going on? Impossible… Mikey was starting to panic, hyperventilate. All he could think about was escape. Running back to the door, he slammed his weight against it -- all 145 pounds -- not that it did much good. It wasn’t budging. He looked back at Bunny, who was openly masturbating while looking at himself in the mirror, a smile on his face, running his hand over his significant cock, while the other hand caressed his rock hard abs.. “Fuck!” Mikey swore. “Fuck… THINK! There’s gotta be a way out of here! Bunny, is there any other way out of here?” “That’s a fuckin’ TOP’S cock, isn’t it?” Bunny asked, his voice gaining a kind of an edge, a kind of roughness, a deepness it hadn’t had before. In the locker room set, there was a door with “Coach’s Office” stenciled on its frosted window -- maybe that led somewhere. Desperately, Mikey ran to it and ripped it open, only to discover it was a prop door that led nowhere. Mikey was beginning to seriously panic. “How come we never fucked, Mikey?” Bunny asked, turning away from the mirror in the gym set and slowly strolling toward Mikey in the locker room portion of the set -- not casually, more like he was stalking his prey. He still had the jock on, but his cock was throbbing out the top band, SIGNIFICANTLY bigger than Mikey had remembered it, even the few times Mikey had seen Bunny hard. It leaked precum. “Cause we’re friends, Bunny,” Mikey said, his voice quivering even as he tried to remain calm. Trying to joke, he added, “And we’re both bottoms…” “Maybe…” Bunny said, stroking his big cock without breaking eye-contact with Mikey, “...but who could be a bottom with a cock like this?” Mikey kept backing away, until he was against the lockers. “C’mon, Bunny… stop…” Bunny snorted, coming right up into Mikey, putting his very muscular arms on either side of him, trapping him. “Why, Mikey?” he growled. “You came here to make a movie -- let’s make a movie!” Mikey pushed against Bunny’s meaty pectorals, unable to move the growing beast. Bunny easily shoved him against the lockers, laughing while he did it. “Stop…” Mikey whined, nearly in tears. As Bunny tried to kiss him, Mikey turned his head away and said, “No!” Bunny was enraged. “Fuck you!” he roared, slapping Mikey across the face. Before MIkey could react, Bunny grabbed his jaw and forced Mikey into a kiss. Mikey could feel Bunny pressing into him, feel Bunny’s rock hard cock against his abs as Bunny’s tongue invaded his mouth. Still, he struggled. He struggled like the caught prey he was. “Yeah, fight,” Bunny growled. “Fuckin’ hot...” Without any real effort, Bunny’s ever-growing strength forced Mikey down over the locker room bench, easily dominating him, knocking the wind out of him slightly. Bent over the side, Bunny was on him in a flash, ready to mount him. Tearing Mikey’s joggers off, Bunny exposed Mikey’s pert little ass, framed in the little neon-colored jockstrap he wore. “Fuck…” Bunny mumbled, his voice deeper along with his new size, gravelly. Mikey tried to escape, but Bunny easily held him down with one massive arm -- then Mikey felt Bunny’s cock press against his hole. “NO!” Mikey screamed, finding his breath. “Stop! Please… BUNNY!” But Bunny slathered his dick in spit and pre, and pressed right on in. Now, Mikey was a talented bottom, but even he needed a warm-up before taking something this large -- and even then, willingly. He tried to breathe. “Tight...” Bunny grumbled, pushing more in. Mikey had done a scene once with a Brazilian guy who was over eleven-and-a-half inches, and it took most of the morning (and most of his poppers) before Mikey could completely take the guy. But that guy had been a good top -- he knew what his dick could do to people -- he spent a LOT of time on foreplay, preparing his target, teasing his way inside. This rabid Bunny just forced his way in. Bunny had clearly never fucked a guy before -- he was like a young buck mating for the first time -- he didn’t know what to do with his dick. His thrusts were uneven and arhythmic, forceful and blunt -- a desperate and angry fuck. He was getting off on his own power, his own growth -- Mikey just happened to be the hole he was inside. Mikey struggled, of course, not that it did much good. As Bunny got bigger and bigger, his strength increased, too. He was so deep inside Mikey, he nearly crushed his prostate. Mikey didn’t want to enjoy it, but he’d never taken anything like this before -- he’d have liked to been a lot higher. His ass was so full… And suddenly, the assault increasing as Bunny neared orgasm. Mikey realized his own cock was rock hard -- why? -- just as Bunny exploded into him, causing Mikey to orgasm himself. He’d never felt anything so unexpected and intense. They both screamed. Bunny didn’t stop fucking, but the thrusts slowed down as he dumped more and more cum into Mikey’s hole. It didn’t leak out -- it was like it was filling him and the root of Bunny’s cock was a plug. When Bunny did finally pull out -- pulling out a cock significantly bigger than the one that had gone in -- Mikey was finally able to get a good look at him. His cock wasn’t the only thing that had grown while he’d been inside Mikey. Skinny twink Bunny was now a bodybuilder, a gym-junkie, a swollen muscle-head overdosing on testosterone. Except his body was making the testosterone -- his body was overdosing on itself. Mikey was no stranger to the gym -- he’d seen those apes. He’d even seen them naked, with their shriveled balls and tiny dicks. But not Bunny. Bunny was like one of those Tom-of-Finland pics come to life, overly muscular and impossibly overhung. Except with crazy eyes. Bunny looked at Mikey, his eyes glazed and unfocused, and flexed a Most-Muscular, roaring. “Fuck!” he yelled, spit flicking from his mouth. “Gotta fuck!” His cock was just as rock-hard as it had been before, if not bigger. Mikey tried to scramble away, but the big beast kept forcing him back. Suddenly, Mikey’s leg was free, so he kicked Bunny square in those ponderous balls, which at least made the guy release him. Bunny stood up straight and grabbed himself, yelping in pain. Mikey wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run. And even as deft as Mikey was, he was nothing compared to his overly-muscled pursuer. Mikey had barely made it to the wrestling area on the other side of the set when he felt Bunny tackle him roughly to the mat, Bunny’s solid shaft against his leg -- Mikey could feel the heat of it. Bunny was humping his leg like a dog in heat, desperate to find a way back into Mikey’s hole, but seemingly too stupid to know where it was. Cum and sweat and spit -- Mikey could taste it in the air -- he’d wrestled in high school for a season, so he knew a little something about rolling with his weight, gaining the advantage. He felt oddly strong rolling on top of the humping Bunny, a strange mix of masculine and powerful. After being raped by this guy, he didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated by his size or his strength. He was too angry -- to be honest, he felt a little turned on. The more he wrestled with Bunny, the easier it became to control him. He struggled, but Mikey moved him from hold to hold -- whenever Bunny out-muscled one, Mikey was ready with the next. And Bunny seemed to get weaker and weaker, or at least, easier to counter. Mikey felt absurdly strong, powerful, his rage and desperation growing too. Fuck, he was horny. Dominate this fucker, he thought to himself. Fucking take his hole the way he took mine. Hard! Fucking make this fucker my bitch. Show him! “C’mon,” he growled, “let’s make a movie…” And Bunny struggled beneath him, but fuck him, he deserved to be fucked! Mikey’s horny, hard cock slammed into Bunny’s unprepared hole. Bunny screamed -- a masculine, deep-throated “No!” but Mikey was beyond thinking. All he wanted to do was dominate this bitch. He was so strong -- and when he saw himself in the wall mirror, he knew why. He was gigantic, muscular, powerful. What the actual fuck…? He flexed for himself as he fucked Bunny, losing himself in the masculine necessity of dominance and power. He grew. He grew like Bunny grew, muscular and over-hung. And when he finally came, he stopped thinking altogether. After that, it was just two over-hung, hairy muscle-beasts fighting and fucking, each trying to get on top of the other, each trying to score the other’s hole. When they started damaging equipment, apparently, that was enough. Small nodules in the ceiling -- that looked like a regular sprinkler system -- released a colorless/ odorless gas that seemed only to slow them down at first, until they ultimately collapsed, thrusting their hips even into unconsciousness. Less than a minute later, four men in hazmat suits entered through the double doors -- they were armed with tasers, and even though unnecessary here, they still took their precautions -- bringing two gurneys. Carefully, they loaded the things that had been Mikey and Bunny each onto a gurney and rolled them out -- one of the techs wisely grabbed Mikey’s backpack and loaded it onto the lower shelf of his transport. A few minutes after that, a cleaning team entered the set and began spraying it down, the smell of ammonia filling the air. ******************** Safely in his office some two floors away, Saul Bennett turned off the monitor where he’d been watching the scene play out. They’d gotten some good raw footage out of it -- the hidden cameras had captured two transformations, that wrestling sequence, nearly an hour of straight-up fucking, and even some believable dialogue with REAL emotion behind it! Even Saul Bennett appreciated the irony in that. FUCK ZOMBIES -- The Series was gonna be his biggest money-maker ever! His reverie was broken by the uncomfortable, impatient movement from the little bodybuilder who sat in the seat across from him -- he’d been tapping his foot throughout the entire sequence. “Something on your mind, Tino?” “That’s twelve,” the little guy said -- right to business. “You said after a dozen you’d release him.” Bennett nodded, taking a sip from the coffee cup on his desk. “That’s true,” he murmured, a slight smile on the corner of his mouth. “Well, that was Twink number twelve,” Tino said. “There’s your dozen. You said after twelve guys, you’d… let my husband out of his contract.” Bennett chuckled. “Of course, Tino. You’ve been very patient with me.” He paused for a second, and just as Tino was about to jump in, Bennett continued. “One final indulgence, though, if you don’t mind… the last scene. I need him for the orgy, Tino. What’s a porn movie without an Orgy for a finale? And what’s an orgy without the star of the show, Mick Masterman?” Tino sighed dramatically. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said. “Are you kidding me? A zombie orgy scene? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bennett just sat there at his desk, fiddling with an unlit cigarette, imagining the possibilities, waiting for the little bodybuilder to make the final connection. So Tino continued. “And just who are they gonna fuck? Anyone who gets their cum in them ends up one of them. Then they’re just gonna destroy everything as they fight to see who fucks who. Sounds more like Pro Wrestling Summer Slam than a porn movie.” Bennett lit his cigarette and took his first drag before he responded. “Unless the bottom was somehow… IMMUNE to the effects of the ‘zombie virus’...” He made eye-contact with the little bodybuilder. “That would work. Don’t you think so, Tino…?” Tino was silent -- serious -- suspicious. “What are you talking about?” he asked nervously. “I’M the only one who’s….” Bennett’s smile grew as the realization sunk in. “I”m gonna be very happy to have you in my movie, Tino! I’m so glad we finally found a project we can work on together.” Tino stood, furious. “Fuck you, Saul Bennett! How fucking dare you? You think you’re gonna add me to your little collection, well you can fucking forget that shit! I will never… EVER… lower myself to your blackmail bullshit! I won’t…” Even Bennett was surprised at how quickly the little gadget he aimed at Tino’s face worked -- but when Bennett pressed the button, the little capsule dispelled the gas and Tino went down like a sack of bricks. Saul Bennett smiled. ******************** For Tino, consciousness came an indeterminate time later, with a feeling that he might be floating. No… swinging. Like in a hammock during a summer dream. He was so horny. When he was finally able to open his oh-so-heavy eyes, he realized he wasn’t in a hammock -- he was in a sling. Spread-eagled, his wrists and ankles were strapped tightly to the frame -- struggle though he might, Tino wasn’t going anywhere. He was on set, so he knew the cameras were running. He was about to scream something to Bennett when he heard the thumping at the double doors. Tino could see them through the safety glass -- the fuck zombies, the muscle-beasts, the whole baker’s dozen, including his husband, the biggest of them all. Mindlessly, they attacked the doors, suddenly aware of Tino and his unguarded hole. Tino began screaming as soon as they burst through.

The Fighter 1. The Fight Vientiene, Laos, Southeast Asia In the heat of the early evening the crowd is filtering in to the functional and simple building. Once used as an official military post for storage, there are many unfilled rooms with stark light bulbs and sawdust or dirt, sometimes blood on the floors. Coming in from the twilight, meandering towards the largest room of the complex, are a mix of business men from downtown, gambling degenerates, a few power drinking Western waywards, mobbed up badasses and some wannabe fighters. Tickets stamped, three security checkpoints, room after room, following the humming of noise from the main fighting area, passing one official after another and then moving in to a seating section arranged by class or distinction. The higher rollers at the top on cushioned seats, most of the mass on planks of splintery wood and the poor folks standing within a roped off area on level with the fighters. Kapono is a wiry and but well-dressed figure for whom the fighters work for. He earns money for the bosses through gambling bets placed on fights. The fights come in several forms including evenly matched same gender, unevenly matched same gender, and intergender. There are three general rules that each fighter is to obey; no police, no help and no rules. A winner is determined when an opponent is unconscious or worse. There is a "master", who serves as something of an official and he begins the match and calls an end. However he is mostly there to incite the crowd and cause excitement. Seu is of American descent. His parents were military and were estranged since his birth. Seu has been under the authority of Laotian kingpins since the age of 12, the last time he saw his dad. To his knowledge his father is back in Arizona, USA and living on a Reservation, as he was part Apache Indian. Raw willpower, ingenuity, unbreakable spirit and size and strength were some of the inheritants from his father. Both of his parents were never pinned down, they were always into the wind, unbound by rules or even loyalty to friends or family. Seu sits in a tiny room where there are weights in the form of 4 dumbbells of various sizes. There is a pull-up bar in the doorless frame of the room entranceway. On a small counter sits barely passable food and water. There are hangers for clothes still there from the military days and a bench to sit on along one wall. By now Seu has been in this room 10 minutes. He arrives for these fights later than the others. He feels no need to prepare. He loves to fight. It’s IN him. There is no mental preparation. He fights anywhere, anytime. It’s second nature, the way a shark is always hunting. Seu doesn’t know his opponent and doesn’t care about his opponent. Typically he is involved in what they call a squash match. Bets are taken in many forms. Under these circumstances the wagers may be regarding the duration of the match more so than the decided winner. Even the nature of the condition of the loser is wagered upon. Anything the customer wants. Kapono appears in the doorway, Seu doesn’t look at him. “Three fights. You stay out and come back after the third fight. Do good,” he says from over his shoulder as he shuffles away. Into the room comes a small girl, as is the ritual. These girls are typically early 20’s or younger, sometimes much younger. Seu doesn’t really know where these girls come from and in his three years of these fights he has never seen the same girl twice. This is part of the protocol. Each fighter has a visit from a girl about 10 minutes before a fight. The girls are instructed to do as the fighter commands. Seu looks her up and down. These girls always were naked underneath a neck to knees robe to cover themselves. He never varies from his pre-fight ritual. He motions to her and says, “come behind me.” She obediently moves behind the boy. Even at 18 years old, Seu has been a man physically and mentally for a long time. From the sitting position, the small girl’s chin is just above the top of Seu’s head. “Put your hand on my chin,” Seu demanded. She did. “Put your other hand on my head, here,” Seu motioned with his hand. The girl placed her free hand on Seu’s head. “I want you to snap my neck, like THIS,” and Seu jerked his head hard to one side. The girl backed away slightly and Seu said sternly, “NOW.” She re-gripped Seu’s head and as instructed forced his head to one side. “Harder,” he said, annoyed. Maintaining her grip, the girl pulled harder. “Harder, harder, harder, harder.” The girl clenched his head and in the same direction, twisted his head hard enough that she thought it might come off. She heard a crack that startled her. “Now the other way.” The girl snapped Seu’s head in the opposite direction with the same force. Seu wasn’t pleased though, and made her repeat this three times until his neck cracked again. The girl was tired and fell back a step. Seu deliberately stood up. The girl’s jaw fell open as her eyes followed him into his standing position. When Seu was 14 he 183cm tall (6'0"). At 18 he is 195.5 (6’5).” The girl thought his back looked bigger than a table. She became aroused, although didn’t visually react. Seu turned to face the girl and he kicked aside the stool that he had been sitting on. The girl noted only just now, that he was Western and was intrigued by his white, yet brownish tanned skin. This is partly from Seu’s Native American descent. Seu had on worn-down black sweatpants and issued boots. Footwear was for whatever reason required and actually the one and only clothing requirement. Nudity is not even against the rules in this spectacle. The boots were similar to military style above the ankle, but not as rigid or heavy and relatively comfortable. He wears a size 15. The girl had a fleeting thought of the men she has fucked and how Seu’s size compared. Unknowingly, she had her hand on her crotch. Not rubbing, but just there. Seu stepped close to the Loatian girl who, experienced with these encounters, stood her ground waiting for instruction. The young girl’s eyes were just above his navel. She was very aroused. The girl had never seen muscle like this. Aside from his strong jaw and boyish looks, his shoulders were so wide. They were strait, leveled off and muscle capped on the sides. She looked up at his shapely lats and powerful pecs. Seu’s pecs stood out over 10cm (4") from his chest. She had never been with a man who had as well-defined abs without even flexing, as he. His narrow waist exploded into an outline of powerful thighs that she imagined, under his shabby sweatpants. His biceps had a slight vein down the middle, cold and unpumped. “I want you to pull my cock,” Seu ordered, looking at her directly. His black hair was 7.5cm (3") long and spiked strait up on top, making him appear even taller. The girl cupped her hands to spit in to them but Seu objected, “No, raw.” Seu gripped the sides of his sweatpants and briskly pulled them down to just above his knee, revealing full nudity. The girl gasped and put both hands over her mouth. Seu’s cock was semi hard and over 20cm (8") in that state. She had never seen such a thing. She slightly crouched over and grabbed her crotch hard from arousal. The girl crossed her legs, looking as though she needed to pee and was holding it in. Seu didn’t break from his glare. The girl opened her robe by undoing the loosely tied sash, but did not slip it off. She approached Seu and confidently gripped his cock with her hand. Realizing her fingers did not touch around it's size, she put her second hand on it and began to stroke from base of shaft to the tip. Seu looked down at her without emotion, although his cock immediately twitched in her hands and expanded upon her touch. "More force," he said robotically. The small girl tried to strengthen her double grip and intensify her stroking, while containing her own arousal. "Give me more force," Seu said. With her shoulders rocking back and forth and her head bobbing, the girl was putting her whole body now into working his cock, which was somehow matching her pressure with equal resistance. The cock became so hard, slanted upwards, that it almost didn't move despite her efforts. This had an effect on her of heightening her arousal but also a feeling as though she was not doing fulfilling her expectation. She thought Seu wanted to climax, but in fact his control over his own orgasm was infallable. The girl could do this endlessly and he could maintain a pulsating erection and not come close to orgasm, if he was so inclined. Seu's intention here was to take off the edge. He constantly felt the urge to become hard and then soft and then hard again. It consummed him. At this time Seu stepped forward pushing the girl backwards with a stumble. He backed the girl, still cock in hands, against the wall. She felt overwhelmed. Seu grabbed a handful of her hair and aimed her glare up towards his. He held this position momentarily and then released the girl and stepped away. Seu pulled his pants back up from around his knees and put the waistband around the end of his cock to hold his big member in place. From a hook on the wall he grabbed a long-sleeve white compression shirt and wrestled it over his ripped torso. Seu exited the room and turned down a dimly lit corridor and up a set of stairs. The girl dropped down to her knees once left alone and began to pleasure herself. After some familiar twists and turns, Seu began to hear the hum of the crowd from the fight room. Kapono emerged from the shadows. "You feeling good?" "I'm always fucking good bitch." "Three fights. Hurt them if you can," Kapono reached up and placed his hand on Seu's shoulder. Seu is rebellious and can be contrary, but Kapono has had a hand in raising him since he became a teen. He might be the only person Seu respects. "How bad should I hurt them?" "Ahh, give them a show," Kapono answered. "One's a Russian. I don't like any of these guys." Seu grunted in response as they approached a tattered curtain where on the other side contained the large fighting room. The edge of his cock was still peaking up from this sweatpants waistband but covered by his compression shirt, notwithstanding the bulge. Dimlee, The Master, raised his hands while positioned in the middle of the fighting area to bring the crowd to a hush. "I will now announce the next fight" he spoke in very good English. "There is sure to be BLOOD!" Dimlee spun around in circles as he addressed the crowd. "Remember there will be no interference and remain away from the fighting area." "For our next match of the evening we have one of our most dangerous fighters!" Seu waited behind the curtain with contained anticipation. He was thirsty to hurt some one. Kapono had left Seu to summon the other fighter. "Born in America but raised right here in the streets of Vientiene, at the age of 18 years, standing 190.5 cm (6'5") and with a weight of 99.8 kg (220lbs), UNDEFEATED, unbeatable, with a heart of stone... The Laotian Tiger, SEU!!!" Seu brushed aside the curtain and with his head narrowly clearing the door frame, he stepped out into the hot light rigs that were set up around the fight circle. The crowd was full of energy and there were so many cat-calls of one sort or another that they molded into one inaudible buzzing of sound. Seu stood tall in the fight circle, with no expression on his face. He folded his arms tightly across his chest. Even from the crowd you could see the biceps exploding from his sleeves. "His opponent makes his first fight in the country of Laos. From Vietnam, where he is a champion fighter in his region... he is so lightning quick that he will catch a deadly snake with his bare hands...162.5cm (5'4") and 55kg (122lbs)... here is Duong!!!" Across from Seu the curtain flew open and the diminutive Vietnamese fighter appeared. Duong wore tights cut off at the top of the thigh. He had no shirt on with a toned but thin body. The fighter leapt out into the fighting area and pointed directly in Seu's vicinity. Then he made a motion to drag his thumb across his throat left to right to indicate impending doom for his opponent. Seu was motionless and expressionless, arms remaining folded. Master Dimlee now stood between the two fighters. Duong was jumping up and down in place. The official put his fist high into the air then quickly down to his side and with every fiber of his being screamed "FIGHT!!!" Duong sprang towards his motionless opponent. As the fighter approached the giant boy, the difference in size was shocking. Seu dropped his arms. Duong, his eyes level with Seu's pecs, delivered a blow to Seu's stomach. Seu didn't move an inch, absorbing the punch, unflexed. Duong grabbed his throbbing wrist. In one motion, Seu cupped both hands on the sides of Duong's head and drove the Asian boy's face into his chest, instantly breaking his nose. Seu pulled the small boy's head away from his chest revealing several blood spots shading his white compression shirt. Then he slammed the boy's face into his pecs again. Seu's muscles seemed to want to burst out from every centimeter of his shirt. Seu slammed Duong's face into his rock hard pecs a third time and the boy appeared to lose consciousness. With an expression completely void of fear, mercy and strain, Seu repeatedly smashed the helpless Vietnamese boy's bloodied face into his pecs. After several more blows, Seu's shirt was heavily bloodied and the Asian had become dead weight in Seu's hands. Holding Duong's weight, Seu continued to break the boy's face against his chest. Finally he stopped and simply held the dead weight of the Asian in his hands. The boy's body was limp, arms dangling at his sides, heels up off the floor being held on his toes by Seu's strength. Seu released his grip and Duong dropped to the floor like a rock and lay there face down, bleeding from his nose and mouth. Seu looked up at the crowd who were waving their programs and betting tickets in the air and cheering or hissing. His opponent lay there motionless at his feet. Seu stepped over Duong with one foot on either side of the prone boy, standing over him, to show his dominance. The crowd responded by chanting his name. Master Dimlee approached the fighter and raised Seu's arm up in the air. Seu moved away from his opponent. Duong was briskly carried away by two men, vanishing into the corridors. Seu reset to his starting position, standing tall and folding his arms. Dimlee raised his arms to attempt to silence the stirring of the crowd. "The Laotian Tiger's next opponent, is a man from right here in Laos. He is a jungle man who is as tough as a nail in a coffin! He is called "The Cage!" Many in the crowd remember this name. "This man began fighting as a small boy inside bamboo cages and is known far and wide. Standing 178cm (5'10") and weighing 70kg (155lbs)... here comes... THE CAGE!" Seu's Asian opponent appeared from the shadows with little expression and moved robotically. The Cage was tall for a Laotian and carried himself confidently but with little muscle. As a teen he was well known in Vientiene fighting circles, but now at the age of 31 was not fighting regularly anymore. He wore boxing shorts, no shirt and was heavily tatooed. Upon entering his place in the fighting circle, The Cage displayed a double bicep flex that showed no difference between flexed and unflexed biceps. He rotated around to acknowledge the crowd who mostly showed indifference. Dimlee stood between the two fighters and raised a fist in the air to signal the fighters to be at their ready. "FIGHT," he spat out at the top of his voice. The Cage moved towards Seu but was stopped in his tracks at the first sign of movement from his opponent. Seu lowered his arms and grabbed his balls and gave them two quick pulls. His nostrils flared. He punched his chest hard which made an audible thud heard even up in the highest seats. Seu raised both hands and waved his fingers motioning to The Cage to approach him. The Cage then apprehensively raised his fists and moved in on Seu. He reached up and swung at Seu's head which he easily dodged. Seu grabbed the Asian man's neck prompting The Cage to put both hands over top of Seu's. With his other hand, Seu took hold of the top of The Cage's leg and with no effort at all he pressed that Asian man over his head. Seu held the man 274cm (9") high in the air. The Cage began to kick his legs while still trying in vein to loosen Seu's grip around his neck. Seu walked in a complete circle around the fighting area wanting to show off his power. He had no expression on his face. Centering himself in the fighting area, Seu lowered and then threw the man so far that his feet landed outside of the designated fighting area. The Cage landed with such force that it kicked up a cloud of dust as he lay in agony on the floor. Immediately a group of men were standing over The Cage, screaming instructions and motioning for him to get up. One middle aged man shouted in Laotian, "fucking get up! Pussy girl! Get the fuck up!" Seu stood in place waiting for his opponent to stagger to his feet. The Cage, with one hand on his back was moving towards the center of the ring. Seu took a large step forward and drove his fist directly into the center of the Asian man's chest. This caused a sucking sound as air escaped from his lungs and knocked him back off his feet and onto the ground again. The Cage lay there, without even enough air in his body to clutch his chest. Dimlee moved in and knelt beside the broken body laying on the ground. He placed his hand near the sternum of the Asian. Dimlee stood up after diagnosing the situation. He pumped both his fists in front of him and with spit and excitement he screamed, "he is broken! He... Is... Broken!" Dimlee pointed in Seu's direction, "WINNER!" Seu slammed his fist into his hand causing muscle to ripple from head to toe. He bellowed, "bring me a fucking challenge!" He turned to the frenzied crowd behind him and repeated, "I said bring me a fucking challenge!" Three teen boys came into the circle to unforgivingly lift The Cage by his feet and torso and carry him back into the medical area. Dimlee, looking to build excitement amongst the gawkers, took a que from Seu. "Ladies and gentlemen, our Laotian Tiger wants a challenge," he paused to allow time for cat-calls from the crowd. "Russia... Russia... has answered the challenge! Just 22 years old. Standing 178cm (6'0") and with a strong 88kg (195lbs)... making his first fight in Asia..." At that time a teen boy who is a worker in the fight club came tumbling thru the curtain as though he had been pushed. Bounding out behind him was Morosov, Seu's next opponent. Morosov walked defiantly into the fight circle interrupting Dimlee's announcement. The Russian badass approached Dimlee and said with broken English, "get the fuck out of my way." Dimlee knew it was on. He raised his fist and screamed "FIGHT," while blood vessels throbbed in this neck and temples. The Russian was filled with courage and couldn't wait to embarrass his younger opponent. He confidently approached the taller wunderkind and put his finger directly in front of Seu's nose. "I am going to crush you." Then he beamed into a wide smile and ran his fingers through his shoulder length, platinum blonde hair. "Then I will fuck your ass in front of all your little Asian girls, ha ha ha." The Russian was muscular but not as big in any area as his counterpart. Yet, his confidence was unwavering. Morosov moved a step closer to Seu. They are now touching eachother at the chest and unflinchingly meeting eachother's stare. The Russian opened his mouth, "This night I will make you..." and Seu commenced the fight. The giant boy put one arm around the back of Morosov's head and the other beneath his legs and effortlessly lifted the Russian into a cradle carry. With the Russian in his arms, Seu began to flex his biceps and chest and tightened his grip. Morosov tried to power out of the hold by straining every muscle in any direction. Seu increased intensity, as the 18 year old began to overpower this Russian man. Morosov's head was being pushed into his knees. His air flow was being cut off by the pressure around his head and neck. He began to not be able to keep his eyes open. Feeding from the strength being drained from the body of his opponent, Seu flexed even harder while the Russian wimpered in his arms. With a last effort, Morosov attempted to gather his strength and power out one more time. Seu matched and then overpowered this effort and flexed harder. He was crushing this Russian. Dimlee sensed that Morosov may be helpless and approached the fighters. From his short stature he could barely see over Seu's forearm and read the face of the Russian. It appeared the Russian was barely breathing and his eyes were closed. Seu had little expression on his face. He showed no mercy, while pulling all the strength out of his Russian opponent and devouring it. The feeling made Seu's cock twitch. Dimlee was pulling at Seu's forearm. Seu barely noticed. The Russian was in dire condition. The Master then motioned towards a portion of the crowd where emerged a young Asian boy under the employ of the fight club. He wore a backpack which he unstrapped and shuffled through the contents of. Seu had not lessened this grip at all and the Russian had faded, no longer even fighting for freedom. From the backpack, the Asian furnished a hand taser. He met Dimlee's eyes and The Master said, "hit him... HIT HIM!" The boy approached Seu and put the taster in the small of Seu's back and the electric current was transfered. Seu didn't budge. The boy repeated this, now holding the taser against Seu's skin for 5 seconds. Seu was impervious to it. "Again," Dimlee screamed with panic. The boy put both hands around the taser and drove it as though he was stabbing with a knife, into Seu's bicep. Seu's muscle strain only intensified, not weakened by the taser's effect. The boy looked up at Seu who met his glare and stuck his tongue far out of his mouth. Dimlee stood back nervously as he was in fear they would lose the Russian and send back a corpse. The taser boy pulled the weapon from Seu's bicep and attempted to place it on Seu's tongue. However, he missed his aim as The Tiger was so much taller and ended up tasering Seu's neck. At first Seu withstood the electric current of the taser. The boy held the taser in place 5 seconds. Now 10 seconds. The taser was getting hot in the boy's hand. After 15 seconds Seu dropped the Russian to the floor, still stuck in the fetal position he had been held in. The taser boy dropped the taser and began to hold his hand which felt like it was on fire. Without even placing a hand on his taser-burned neck, Seu turned to the taser boy and picked him up on one shoulder. Seu's bicep popped as he held the boy with one arm. He then took three steps and slammed the poor boy down into the floor boards. The taser boy was immediately unconscious. Already workers had come and carried the twitching Russian away to the medical room. Seu rose and stepped towards Dimlee. Keeping the show rolling, Dimlee grabbed Seu's arm and threw it up in victory. "The Laotian Tiger boy... the unbeatable... Seu!!!" Dimlee called some workers over to tend to the taser boy. Seu bathed in the favorable cheering and emotion from the crowd. As he strutted around the fighting circle he continuously bounced his pecs without moving his arms even slightly. Seu had dominated three men tonight thoroughly. They weren't just beaten physically, but they were humiliated. Seu felt some satisfaction from draining the manhood from his opponents. But his sexual appetite was now on his mind. It felt as though it was growing beyond his control. 2. Release The country of Vietnam is the capital of fighting in Southeast Asia. People of all ages enjoy fighting of all sorts. In Hanoi, there are 4 official fight clubs. Men and women travel from all parts of the globe to test their skills and strength in the city known as "Paris of the East." A microphone is lowered from rafters of a building that was once used as an airplane hangar. A well dressed master of ceremonies moves into the center of the fighting ring. He grasps the mic and addresses the anxious crowd in English. "Gentlemen, the Perfume Combat Club is the best fighting club in the city of Hanoi. We bring you the best matches with fighters from around the world!" The crowd was buzzing with some patrons rowdily applauding and stomping, others going over betting slips and the remainder of the night's card, while some were feverishly making cash side bets amongst themselves. Standing on the matted floors of the modern fighting circle were two young men native to the area. They looked downward, not wanting to face the crowd. Both boys wore red boxing shorts and no shirts, with bare feet. These men who were in their early 20's, were already seasoned fighters specializing in Muay Thai. Speaking smooth and deliberately, the announcer continued. "From right here in Hanoi city, I bring you two great fighters." He approached one fighter who just now raised his stare upwards from the floor. "Standing 170cm (5"7") and weighing in at 57.7 kg (127lbs), here is Trang!!" The only response from the fighter was to quickly raise and lower one hand which was heavily wrapped in tape. "And his partner, one of three professional fighters in his family, standing 165cm (5'5") and with a body weight of 55kg (121lbs), here is Minh!!" The young man shrugged his shoulders and bobbed his head to loosen up but didn't break his stare down with the floor. The crowd jeered the young fighters with laughter and cat-calls. Both men remained still and appeared to be nervous. They knew they were in trouble on this day but the pay day of 4.7M Vietnamese dong (just over $200 USD) each was enough that they neededn't fight again for a month. The announcer cleared his throat for effect and turned towards the unoccupied other side of the fighting circle. "And now, our champion fighter that many of you have come to see. A man of such size and power that the Perfume Combat Club only, can bring to you. This man was born in Cali, Colombia, in South America. He was raised as a street fighter where he had never been beaten in his home country." The crowd were stomping floorboards and bleachers, utilizing various noise-makers and throwing fists in the air while burning with anticipation. "Now 23 years old, he has been fighting in Vietnam for one year without having been beaten." Appearing from a dark hallway and flanked by several handlers was a massive and fierce looking young man. "Here he comes! Standing 200.5cm (6'7") and 127kg (280lbs)... Sensei." The announcers voice was overpowered by the roar of the crowd as Sensei moved into the fighting cirle. The Colombian had short black hair styled into a hawk in the middle. He was good looking with long eyebrows, but scowling and brooding. Sensei wore a green satin robe covering a package of traps, pecs, abs and biceps. He was dressed in green boxing shorts that went down to his knees and contained powerful thighs. Once in the circle he derobed and tossed his garb behind him to one of the handlers. His outsized opponents, who had not yet built up the courage to meet his eyes, could see his black hightop shoes and green socks. Sensei's calves alone, were almost the size of the waist of his foes. The announcer officially began the match and dispersed. Feeding from the energy of the crowd was Sensei who was pumping his blood by curling his biceps up and down. The golden color of his skin glistened under the hot lights with his sweat and he appeared to be glowing. Trang, who was a bit bigger than Minh, began to approach Sensei, with his arms up and fists clenched. Minh, now visibly scared, followed just behind Trang but was not in a fighting position. Trang made the first move as he stepped in to Sensei and delivered a bare-footed kick as high as he could, which landed in the chest. Sensei didn't even move as Trang was knocked backwards and down to the ground. Sensei looked directly at Minh who looked back at the ripped Colombian. Minh then turned and attempted to run back to his dressing room. He didn't make it very far as several handlers and a group of spectators grabbed him and practically threw him back towards Sensei which drew a roar from the crowd. By now Trang had gotten back to his feet and undeterred, he approached the Colombian and began delivering body shots to the abs and chest. Sensei enjoyed this and looked down at his Asian opponent with an arched eyebrow. After a series of punches that had no effect, Trang dropped his hands and looked up at his opponent with confusion. Sensei's face turned tight and his eyes piercing, "Nem mesmo Deus pode ajudá-lo agora." He put his hand around Trang's neck and raised the Asian up in the air with one arm. Sensei turned around to show his power to all eyes. Trang struggled and kicked his feet but Sensei was too strong. After absorbing the energy of the crowd, Sensei slammed that boy down onto his back so hard that Trang literally bounced. The crowd exploded at the sight of Trang lying on the floor completely motionless. Sensei then focused his attention on poor Minh, who had nowhere to go. He took a giant step towards Minh and put his hand under the Asian's crotch and hoisted the young man up with one arm. Sensei held Minh in a pre-bodyslam position for a few seconds and then threw him down on top of Trang. He crouched down and gathered up both boys in his arms as one would collect a load of firewood, and scooped up the boys together and held them in a cradle-carry position. Trang appeared to be lifeless and Minh was muttering words, possibly a prayer. Sensei then took three quick steps and angled his body off the ground delivering a power slam that shook the room as much as the collective foot stomping of the assembled crowd. Sensei stood up looking like a giant standing beside his two prone opponents. He curled his thumb around the waistband of his boxing shorts and partially pulled them down exposing his semi-hard cock. He began pissing on the two boys and with enough force that the urine could be heard splattering on the bodies from the first row of the bleachers. Most of the crowd fell silent as Sensei focused his attention on dehumanizing his beaten opponents. Then, even though he was still pissing full stream he cut it off as if it was nothing, pulled his shorts back up and addressed the crowd. "Let it be known," he said in English. "I am the strongest fighter in this land. I am pure Colombian blood. I am never having been beat." Sensei turned to face the private box that housed the Fight Club organizers. "Let my voice be heard this day," he continued. "Bring me Seu. Bring him to me and I will crush him and show the world that I am the best!" Much of the crowd was now cheering again and Sensei stomped off towards the dressing room. Somebody had adorned his shoulders with the flag of Colombia before exiting the fighting area. Before reaching his dressing area, a disheveled and feverish acting Club employee approached Seu talking quickly and loudly. "You can't do that! You can't do that!" Sensei put his hand over the man's face and threw him down to the ground with force. Vientiene, Laos. Kapono's Gym Kapono ran a sprawling one floor complex where fighters trained, ate and some even slept. Seu had three days before his next arranged match. The opponent wasn't known to him yet but he was told to hurt the opponent badly and win within one minute. Apparently the betters felt this opponent could survive the first 90 second round and that's the way the betting was going. The gym had numerous rooms and was not meant to be a place for training. There was no large room with an open floor plan. Some rooms were set up with floor-matting for sparring. Others were cramped with training equipment or weights. There was a kitchen and a place behind the building to eat. Some rooms were occupied as living quarters for fighters or workers. Seu lived across the alley from the gym in a second story, private access apartment. There was a shop below that sold oddities and there were always strange and interesting people coming and going. Seu mostly kept to himself. Living conditions were poor in this area, but he earned enough money from Kapono to rent this clean and well maintained living space. Food was prepared for him at the gym and deducted from his pay. Girls were on his mind. They were always on his mind. Kapono had bred Seu to have sex often and arranged for this to happen since a young age. He believed that sexual stimulation helped promote a high production of testosterone, which in turn made Seu a bigger, stronger more aggressive fighter. Seu was informed by Kapono the other day that the service which provides the girls for him will no longer be sending any. Seu has difficulty controlling his sex drive and during the act becomes too aggressive. That, coupled with his tremendous size, strength, and stamina, and these girls simply cannot handle him. In fact many of them get hurt and in turn cannot work, so the service is discontinuing having Seu as a client. "Rrraaahhh... rrraaahhh... rrraaahhh," Seu growled and he finished his bench press set. The boy had a deep voice and liked to listen to himself grunt when lifting weights. He was surrounded by three teenage boys all younger than he, who aided the fighters in their training at the gym. Many of these boys are training to be fighters themselves. "How much is on the bar," he demanded as he sat up. One of the boys counted the cement blocks and figured an answer in his head. "There is 130kg (286 lbs) mister," the boy spoke loudly trying to act tough. Seu grabbed one of the boys by the arm who was closest to him and pulled him in to within six inches from his face. "Do I look like a fucking girl to you?" Then he released the boy who stumbled backwards. Seu demanded "put some weight... on the fucking bar!" Two of the boys scrambled into the process of adding some cement blocks on to the bar. This room was small and had one bench for lifting and several bars leaning against the wall, with cement blocks of all shapes and sizes on the floor. "Here's 150kg (330 lbs) mister," said one of the boys while he playfully punches Seu's arm. "Fuck," said Seu, "I should put you bitches on the bar and just lift the three of you." Seu laid down on the bench and gripped the bar. He raised the bar and quickly dropped it to his chest and with no expression on his face busted out three reps in three seconds. "Rrraaahhh, rrraaahhh, rrraaahhh..." Seu hit six reps and paused. Then he powered through three more reps and dropped the bar rattling around on the holders of the weight bench. Seu sat up and one of the boys towelled his forehead, "you see that shit boys? Someday when you grow a cock you will be able to do that too," he chuckled to himself as he rested a moment. Kapono entered the room and the three boys stood at attention. "What do you want? I'm training," Seu snorted. "I found a new escort service that can help you," Kapono stated proudly. "I told you I would take care of you, just as I always have." "I don't need it. Tonight I'm gonna fuck these three bitches," Seu said as he stood up and checked out his hair in a body-length mirror that hung on the wall. Kapono continued, "the only problem is these ladies charge an exorbinant amount. Three times more than before." Sue grabbed one of the boys who is 15, by both of the boys arms and casually starting to curl the kid up and down as a human barbell. Kapono took a step in to the room. "This is serious boy. We will have to get creative. The usual matches won't do. Not if we must pay these prices to keep you satisfied." "No problem bossman," Seu said as he continued to rep the boy up and down. "That's what I do, I fight and I fuck," he winked at the boy in front of him who smirked back at him. These boys had a general admiration for Seu as he was a strong fighter whom they wanted to emmulate. "You will go to the address tonight," said Kapono, "Mana will take you." "Mana?," questioned Seu. "What the fuck's he going with me for." Seu dropped his human weight onto his feet and jostled his dark hair with his hand to thank him. "You know you are not to go anywhere alone you are always a target," Kapono warned. "Fuck," said Seu. "I would be more protected bringing this little shit with me," as he picked up the 15 year old and gave him a pretend bear hug. "Mana," Kapono responded, already out of the room. "That's final." Seu dropped the boy and made a one arm bicep flex down low which popped like a rock. All three boys took turns putting their hands on it to feel how hard it was. Kapono was right of coarse. There were many fighting venues that would see an increase in their revenues if they could convince Seu to fight for them, or even kidnap him and force him to fight. Some of these fighters found themselves not much different than slaves. Or, if somebody had the nerve and ability to hurt Seu where he could no longer fight, then Kapono's market share would decrease and spread out amongst the competition. Mana and Seu set out later that night and found the escort service which operated on the second floor of a dance club and bar which served as a front for the operation. Mana had detailed instructions that had to be committed to memory. There was a separate entrance and quite a bit of codeword work and passing thru one check point after another to get down the side alley, into the door, up the stairs, thru another door, thru a front room... and so on. Mana was a fighter at one time in his life but now was around 40 and had a family and worked as one of Kapono's top handlers and "delivery men." He is a diminutive man who even in his fighting days would have topped out at 60kg (132 lbs). He dressed well, talked smoothly and carried no weapons. When in public, Seu was ordered to dress in very loose-fitting attire. Kapono didn't want anybody to be able to notice the musculature of his body, so that he would not attract attention. He would often wear a hoody, even in the heat of the day. Tonight he wore a white, long-sleeve dress shirt over baggy khaki pants and brown shoes. No underwear. Finally, an elegant and very pretty, middle aged lady appeared once it seemed that all of the protocol had been satisfied. She wore a welcoming smile but said nothing more than "follow me." The three moved down a darkly lit hallway that had traditional music piped in. There were unnumbered hotel style doors on each side with peepholes for spying out into the hallway. Once madam had reached her destination she softly knocked on the door, and then brandished a set of keys with which she used to open the door. Before entering, madam made a statement. "All of our clients have very special needs and we understand your needs in great detail. As you may have noticed we do not use given names here and any name spoken will be ficticious. Within the room you will see an intercom on the wall which you may use to ring for me. If there is anything your require, your madam has the ability to get it for you. We want your experience to be fully enjoyable. Now, I do have instruction to ask that you both enter the room." She left the door ajar and motioned with her arm to enter while bowing her head. Mana started in to the room and Seu followed behind. The room had a hand painted decor of jungle and wild animals on the walls under soft track lighting. One half of the room was thickly carpeted and contained a circular bed with black satin sheets and night stands, a large padded floor mat with pillows, a sofa and a cabinet that served as a dresser. The other side of the room had white tile flooring and featured an undrawn whirlpool bathtub, various dumbells and weights on the floor, a weight bench, some sort of two door storage cabinet and an open door which led to what was apparently a bathroom. "My God," Mana gasped. Seu's eyes lit up. Standing in the center of the room was the tallest asian girl either had ever seen. She did have on three inch high heels but even without them she would tower Mana and stand almost eye to eye with Seu. She wore skintight stretch pants that bulged at the thigh and calf, not as big but similar to how Seu looks. She wore a sports bra that seemed to be stretched to its maximum to hold in large, round breasts with nipples pushing thru the fabric. The woman had an angel face with big lips and a small nose, defined abs, muscular arms, a hint of traps, and broad, capped shoulders. She stood there confidently, chest out, hands on her hips with a half smile. She made eye contact with Seu. She spoke first. "I know why YOU are here," she said. "You can call me Sing as I am from Singapore if you care." Then she took a step forward, her dyed blonde hair shining under the track light. Sing's face turned to a pouty frown, "those little girls keep breaking when you get on top of them," she said in a derisive tone. She threw her head back, her expression changed to one of cocky confidence, "I don't break." Sing raised one eyebrow. "Perhaps a demonstration?" Uninvited, she stepped to Mana and put her fingers in his mouth pulling him by the jaw as she walked backwards, forcing him to come with her. Seu stood there mesmerized by this female equivalent of himself and couldn't wait to see what she would do. The amazon then released her grip on Mana and backhanded him right across the face. "I DO know how to hit like a man," she said in Seu's direction, "but this wimp don't look like he can take it." She copped both hands on either side of Mana's head and forced his face into her breasts to the point where Mana was struggling to breath. The much shorter man began flailing his arms wildly, slapping the Asian girls biceps and shoulders, even strinking her in the mouth. She just absorbed his efforts with a grin on her face. "I bet he's never seen tits this big on a woman in his life," she said to Seu knowing this is turning him on. Mana was barely able to breathe and was gasping loudly, his lack of oxygen magnified by his futile attempts to push the strong Asian away from him. Sing pulled his head out from her tits making a loud smacking sound as she did it. She pushed his head down and stepped over him, straddling his torso, then closing her thighs against the outmuscled man. Her thigh muscles bulged as she squeezed Mana's body between her legs. "Yeah," she said to Seu while licking her lips, "We grow them a bit bigger in Singapore than these skinny-ass rice eating bitches down here." With no expression, she squeezed her thighs to the maximum and the pain caused Mana to throw his legs into the air, as the amazon held his entire body weight off the ground with her thighs. Seu had a steady stream of pre-cum running up his erected shaft which was pushing against the button of his pants and forming a dark wet spot on the front of his slacks. Sing noticed this. "Oh my, I don't think you can wait much longer." She realeased her grip on the ailing Mana and he collapsed to the floor. Then she grabbed him by the hair and half picked him up and half dragged him over to the door which was left open after the party had entered the room. "End of demo," she said, as she tossed Mana into the hallway and softly closed the door. Sing then walked past Seu running her finger along his jawline as she did this and stepped over near the weight bench. She turned and faced Seu with a satisfied grin on her face. Seu felt like his cock was going to tear thru his pants. Sing then began to roll down her yoga pants, wiggling her hips side to side as she did this, until the pants were down to the top of her knees. She stood up tall, fully exposed vagina, leading down to her muscular, bare thighs. "Now that my light work is over, time to start the heavy work." Then, she appeared to be concentrating on something, yet not moving her body. Seu was astonished to see something silver, and hard, cap out of her vagina. Then a moment later, a Ben Wa ball was muscled out of her vagina so hard that it shout out about 12 inches (30cm) and landed on the tile floor loudly, rolling until it settled into a gap in the tile. Sing put her hand over her mouth sheepishly, "Sorry, just one more." Then the woman produced a second Ben Wa ball from her vaginal wall and ejected it a similar distance bounding onto the tile floor. She raised one eyebrow. "Ready to have some fun? I wanna see what a man can do."

(This one will take place in the überman universe. I recently read the story and it really stole my heart. I hope I can be just a good as the one who write it before. If any of the former writers don't want me to write this any further, just tell me and I will stop.) Chapter 1: Beginning. Life is strange, and Thomas was the living evidence of it. His parents were divorced when he was young, so he was used to them being sapperaited. He was a bit scared of the new woman of his father, but he knew he could trust her. And well, it wasn't all that bad. At his mothers side, he was only child, but his father has two kids of his new woman. And Thomas was always feeling lonely till he heard the news he would get a little sister. Thomas kwam directly what he should do. As young boy, he has dreamed of a bigger man spoke to him on street or suddenly would standing in front of his door, telling him he was his older brother. Thomas wanted to feel his little sister to him wat he wanted to feel to his big broter, if he would have one. Things would become even better when Thomas heard, two years later, he was also getting a little brother. He was so happy, he would become the best brother in the world, he told himself. But, things weren't always just as happy as it seems. When Thomas was arround his 5th age, he heard he had Autism. He didn't know what it mean back then, but looking back to it on later date, his world had satterd that moment. Starting with his best friend he had in his school, he was in tears when he told him he would go to another school. His friend smiled and say: Hey, don't worry, your my best friend, no mather how live got. Strange thing to say to a 5th year kid, but it became very important words fo Thomas the next years. But, things faded away by the ugly thing called time. At the time Thomas was in his 8th grade, he visit his friend. But, his friend told him, without looking at him, he would be moving away to Amerika. His father had fond a job there, and he was forced to take. Thomas mouth was dry after hearing that, could it be? Thomas was kind of froozen when he told his friend he had to go home. When he was at the door, his friend called him, he turned his head. 'Thomas.... are you gay?' The question came like a bash of Thor's hammer. Thomas only could stare at him and softly say: 'Y...yes.' 'Could you... come here?' Thomas walked to his friend, standing in front of him. His friend looks longer then before, also his clothes seems a bit tight. 'Can..can I try something?' 'What?' 'Can I.... kiss you? I wanna know how it feel. And... I don't trust anyother person.' Thomas couldn't say any other word. His friend placed his hand on Thomas' chest. His face was close, did his jaw just got more sqaure? Thomas could feel the lips of his friends touching his. He sunk away in a feeling he never felt before, like he had eat a whole bag of those pink crackeling candy. His friend let go of him and Thomas look into his green eyes. 'Well? How was it?': Thomas asked. Thomas could see some kind of weird look on his friends face. 'Could....could you please go?' 'Hey, what's wrong?' 'Please...go. I don't want to see you anymore.' Thomas was surprised by the reaction of his friend. He wanted to grap his friends shoulder, but he slapped his hand away. 'Go away. I don't want to do anything stupid.' Thomas left, stil surprised about the reaction. When he got home, his mother directly saw there was something. Thomas told his mother about the scene in the room of his friend. 'Hmmm. I don't know.' she said. 'Maybe he just strugeling with himself I would call his mother.' My mother did what she said while I was walking the dog. When I got back she looked to me. 'Sorry Thomas, but he told his mother he didn't want to see anyone anymore, specialy not you. Just... try to forget about it.' Well, easy to say, but Thomas tried. But he couldn't, the strange look on his friend was something he was puzzeling about for a very long time. But with time, the memory faded away and when he finish High school, it became just his: 'First kiss story' After High school, the real trouble started. He took two years off to discove more about himself and his autism, because he still didn't know much about it. In the same time, he joined a group who would held parties every weekend. And because he had time, he got to them. Like said before, life is strange. After half a year, the people he came in contact threw the group started to avoid him. He tried to ask what happend but everyone just said: 'You know what you did.' Well, he didn't. First he tough it was some kind of joke, to test him. But after 3 mounth, and they still keeping up the same story, he dicide it was enough. He ignored the people who had talk bad about him and tried to concentrate on the people who do like him. But, strange things happen, because new people joined the group and out of all sudden he heard he was the 'try not to became like him'-person. Thomas almost cried about that. After his pre school friend, he had only one real friend, and just when he tough it was going good, it goes all wrong again. Thomas decide to give it one last change and made him up for his last party. In the original plan, his friend from high school would go with him, but he broke his leg just on the day before. Well, the hotel room and the ticket were already paid, so he decide to go alone. The party was actually a disco with DJ's over the night. Thomas was bored after 1 hour already. No one wanted to talk to him and the few people who were talking to him were quick taken away by others. Arround midnight, Thomas walked to the bar to order a drink. Someone was tapping him on the shoulder. 'Wait for your turn.': he said. The person tapped again, Thomas turned and wanted to ask what the person wanted But he wouldn't get that far, because the first thing he saw was the black, round mouth of a pistol. Before he could ever reallise what it was, there was a clicking sound. There was not a single tough in his head, but he waited for the black nothing.

yea 2 chapters of aj and noah!!! cant wait for them !! this is soo good

Need to see that!

Thanks for the comments, guys! I wasn't sure if this chapter would be as popular as some of the others. Maybe cause it's a bit less eventful than other chapters have been! Noah tells AJ all about Eddie, and the two of them even meet! ?

I'm in love with this story, imagine if Aj found out about Eddi and felt jealous,

Seems like we are getting closer and closer to the big reveal, and I'm loving every minute of it!

this chapter has me hard as a rock! ??

Geektofreek's stuff can be hard to search because he's used so many different usernames too: Geektofreek, musclegod300, soccerstud88. There may have been others too.

Excellent! I will say once again, however, that it's a shame that more stories from the 2007-2014 time frame haven't been re-posted in the new forum I frankly find the Post-2007 "archive" of the old site virtually impossible to use. I suppose if you know EXACTLY what you're looking for it's doable but mostly it's just a gigantic pain in the ass. Here's hoping Geektofreek at some point will have an opportunity to re-post his third part (or -- hint hint -- ask someone to do it for him!)

Oof. Yes. Link should be fixed.

What KMB said!

Here it is. If bobaroo objects then of course we'll take it down. I really hope I'm not treading on any toes here. Enjoy Mike's Workout by [email protected] There were several cars and trucks parked in the lot when Mike pulled into a space. "Good," he thought, "everyone is here and ready. Means I can get started right away." He smiled as he walked into the bright sunshine. It was a warm spring day, clear but not too hot. "Perfect for a workout," he thought. "Always can really kick ass when I'm not fighting the weather." The warm sunshine felt good on his back and shoulders as Mike walked forward. He wasn't wearing any shirt; he never did when he exercised in good weather. Mike's skin was already darkening from being out in the sun for hours each day. He was wearing ripped denim cut-off shorts and scuffed heavy-duty construction boots, and that was it. There was a slight breeze that riffled the thick patch of brown hair on his chest, slightly tickling him. Mike scratched at his pec just as he rounded a corner to where Tom and Jeremy were chatting. The two men stopped talking the second they saw him and just stared. Even now after a year of workouts he still had that effect on them. He had that effect on everyone, really, and Mike loved it. He smiled, even white teeth glinting in the sun, contrasting against the dense brown goatee that surrounded his full lips. The men were staring at his arm, the bicep full and peaked even though it hadn’t been pumped at all yet. The sinews in Mike’s forearm twitched around zig-zagging veins as he absently scratched his chest again. Tom’s gaze traveled from the hulking mass of Mike’s upper arm along the rippling forearms to the sausage-sized fingers whose tips were buried in the bush of hair that sprouted from Mike’s chest. Jeremy had been staring at Mike’s chest from the beginning. They were two enormous humps of rounded muscle that jutted out so far that it seemed that anywhere he went that Mike’s nipples would arrive two minutes before his bubble butt ass did. Mike walked over to them and asked, “How’s it going, guys?” in a deep bass that sometimes spooked dogs. Mike towered over the other two since he stood 6 foot 6 inches. Tom and Jeremy forgot whatever it was that they were talking about, and they looked up into Mike’s handsome face. “It’s going good,” Jeremy said. “I’m looking forward to this workout, as always.” Tom nodded, since his mouth had gone a bit dry. The air temperature hadn’t changed, but with Mike’s arrival it was as if additional heat was being pumped into the atmosphere. Tom dropped his eyes from Mike’s to look at the big man’s neck, which was much thicker than his head. Huge trap muscles protruded from either side of the neck, to merge into the gigantic caps of muscles that were Mike’s deltoids. And that brought Tom’s gaze back to the swollen right arm, now hanging at Mike’s side, but pushed out at an angle by the sweep of the lat muscle. Mike smiled, said, “Me too,” then turned and saw a man in the distance, climbing into the cab of a crane that sat 100 feet away. “I see that Little Mike is getting ready. Let’s do that first.” Little Mike stood 6 foot 2 and was a burly construction worker. Under any other circumstances no one would ever have given him that nickname, but compared to Mike he was little. He was one of those guys who are naturally big and strong but when three months ago when he answered the ad for a crane operator he never expected to be dwarfed by anyone. And when he heard what the job entailed, he thought that Mike was crazy. Until he stayed to watch a workout. He quit his old job that day. Mike strode across the dusty yard while Tom sprinted to another crane. Jeremy walked further along, heading for the fork lift that he would be operating later. They were at an old railroad yard that wasn’t in use any more and that Mike had been able to get for his own use after a visit to the president of the freight company that owned it. It was his to use for free, just like the construction equipment donated by a local contractor. All Mike had to do was pay a visit once in a while and show how his workouts were going, provide a few tapes of them and the company presidents gave him whatever he wanted. Tom got into the cab of the crane just as Mike reached a spot midway between his crane and Little Mike’s. He started the engine and Mike bent down, stretching each arm out a bit. When Mike stood up in each mitt he held a thick metal loop, the iron four inches around. He nodded and both Tom and Little Mike moved levers and the cranes started to reel in the steel cables that were attached to the metal loops. When Mike’s arms were stretched out, he started to contract his chest muscles. There was a whine in the air as the crane motors strained as the cables were pulled out again. Mike made the knuckles of each hand touch, then slowly extended his arms again. The whine died down, but Mike was still exerting resistance on the cables, so that they shortened slowly. But once Mike’s arms were fully extended again the whine sounded as the engines labored to continue shortening the cable. But something more powerful was drawing the cables out. Mike’s pectoral muscles contracted, overpowering the cranes that normally would be used to lift girders up at construction sites. Little Mike worked the gearshift with one hand while he held onto binoculars with the other. He saw Mike’s chest as it swelled up, the brutal muscle overpowering thousands of horsepower of machinery. Even though Mike’s muscles were covered with all that hair it was still possible for Little Mike to see the exploding fan of striations in the pecs as Mike inexorably drew his hands closer together. Little Mike started shoving his crotch against the base of the gearshift as he watched his bigger namesake below. After 15 reps the men shifted gears to idle the cranes as Mike dropped the loops. The warm up felt good and Mike could already feel the blood rushing into his chest muscles. This WAS going to be a good workout, he knew it. Mike bent down to start the next set. Tom and Little Mike shifted into a higher gear and the cranes exerted more power this time, as if they were lifting a heavier load of 20 tons. As Mike’s muscles overcame the pull of the machines Tom could hear that his crane was making louder noises than usual. Its engine wouldn’t last too much longer against the superhuman power in Mikes’ chest. Mike would have to pay another personal visit to the construction company soon to persuade the president to donate a new one. He’d have to tell Mike what to ask for because this model was getting too easy for Mike anyway. Mike had noticed the difference in the engine also, and that made his cock stir a little in his tight shorts. He had demolished so many machines by now that he had lost count, but it was a rush anyway each time that it happened. He thought about the locomotive that was used for leg presses. Mike would lie on the train track, knees bent, his feet placed up against the reinforced front of an engine usually used to pull 50 boxcars. Dave the engineer would sound the whistle and then start the locomotive forward. Mike would extend his legs and the wheels of the locomotive would squeal as it was forced backward. Then Mike would slowly bend his knees and the train would move forward, but only about two feet because Mike’s legs would hold it in place. Rep after rep, the train would inch forward, only to be shoved backward by the overwhelming force of Mike’s thigh muscles. For each set Dave would push the throttle forward more, so that more horsepower was driving the engine forward. But no matter the horsepower, it was always halted by Mike. His thighs would be bulging insanely by the end of the last set, and when he stood up and did a thigh flex, gargantuan tear drops of muscle would blast into view. One day Dave had the throttle pushed all the way and Mike just held it in place after the set was done. For ten minutes the wheels of the train screeched as they spun on the rails until two snapped off and went flying, almost killing Tom who was standing on the sidelines, jerking his cock with both hands. A smell of burning insulation also filled the air, and the engineer shut the locomotive down. Mike remembered the feeling of triumph he felt as he stood up and saw the locomotive slightly askew on the rails, its engine wrecked. Dave slowly climbed out of the cab, the front of his pants soaking wet. Mike also remembered the look of the railroad president’s face while he was telling him this, the look in his eyes, the slight gape of his mouth. It was a combination of fear and lust. Needless to say, a locomotive was “retired” from active service that day and driven to the workout yard. Mike crunched out the last rep of the second set of cable flyes, tensing his chest tightly. Then he nodded and slowly released the cables as the operators shifted the gears. Jeremy had come back to watch and he handed Mike a bottle of water from which Mike took a few gulps. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth and handed the bottle back. Mike noticed that Jeremy had a bulge in his pants, but what else was new? Jeremy saw Mike’s gaze on his crotch and that just caused his cock to throb harder in his jeans which would be showing the pre-cum stain soon enough. Mike got ready and nodded for the third set to begin. The cranes exerted the equivalent of 30 tons of force, but at a certain point Mike’s chest again halted the movement of the metal loops. Last week Mike had had the guys increase the force because 28 tons had become too easy, so he was straining a bit now against the machines. But that’s what would make his muscles grow even stronger, he knew that, and that’s what he wanted. By the ninth rep he gritted his teeth a little and then let the cables retract. Tom sounded a blast on the horn, a signal to ask if that was the last rep. Mike angrily shook his head and yanked on the cables so that they stretched out again, pulled out by the titanic force exerted by his chest muscles. He was gulping air and that caused his pecs to seem as if they were undulating with power. He forced his knuckles to touch, as for every other rep, then nodded his head to signal that he had completed the set. Little Mike and Tom shut down the cranes as Mike let the loops drop to the ground. Mike did a side chest pose for Jeremy and said, “Not bad for a 48-year old, is it?” Between the exertion of the exercise and the warmth of the spring day, Mike had started to sweat so that the hair was beginning to get slightly matted down with wetness. There were some beads of sweat on Mike’s arms that had started to get pumped up as well from outmuscling the heavy machinery. “Come on, I’m gonna need you for the next set, you know that,” Mike said. He turned and walked over to the next exercise, with Jeremy trotting along to keep up. Mike stopped at a concrete pillar that had thick padding on the top of it. He bent down and as if he were doing the limbo dance, he lowered himself down so that he was lying on the pad. He had to bend because there was a steel girder over the pillar. On each side of the girder a boxcar had been bolted to the end of the iron bar so that it was held up by the cars, suspended just over the pad. Mike grabbed onto the girder and his fingers fit into the grooves there. This wasn’t surprising since he had moulded the hand grips himself when the bench press station had first been built. Squeezing into the metal, deforming the edge of the girder so that he would be able to keep a good grip on it. Because he was going to be lifting very, very heavy weights. Mike straightened his arms and the girder began to rise. On each side was an old freight boxcar loaded with the compressed wreckage of old cars, so that Mike was lifting 200 tons of metal. Mike’s pecs were bulging into two thick mountain peaks of muscle, and if you had put a normal barbell pole in between his chest muscles it would be flattened out by now. Up and down the freaky assemblage went, until after 20 times Mike manoeuvred the girder back into the uprights. Jeremy immediately moved the forklift over to a pile of crushed auto bodies that had been brought from a junkyard, 2 tons each. Mike got off the bench and grabbed a cube of twisted metal in his hand and tossed it into the open doorway of one of the boxcars. He walked over and picked up another cube, bending his legs as he did so then straightening up. A truck this had probably been, but it was not too heavy for Mike. He pushed that into the rail car with the other one. He and Jeremy added more metal into the cars until they were up to 220 tons. Mike laid back on the bench and began to press the huge weights up. His chest muscles felt tight, but this wasn’t a major test of his strength. He knew that he could pump out more than 15 reps and he held the weight in full control for each of the ten reps that he did. “Yo, Jeremy, another 15 on your side,” he called out when he was done with the set. The bleep, bleep of the forklift as it backed up rang on and on as Mike grabbed hold of the wreckage of other big SUVs and trucks to put into the waiting box car. The other guys had gathered to watch. Under any other circumstance, a man picking up one of these cubes of metal would have been front page news. But Mike was far past this point. He turned to face the other men and said, “Time to really work these pecs.” He positioned himself back onto the pad and started to lift. The metal raised up and down over and over. Jeremy remembered being concerned the first time that he saw this exercise being performed. After the first rep he asked Mike, “Shouldn’t we do something with the cranes? Loop the hooks around so they can act like a spot?” Mike just grinned and pressed Jeremy’s face against his pumped up chest muscles and said, “These boys are never going to give out on me, don’t you worry.” But Jeremy still watched in awe as those huge humps of muscles contracted and powered the weight overhead. Much more weight than a year ago when he started working for Mike. The girder back in place, Mike roared, “Jeremy, hurry up, we’ve got to up the weight for the next set!” Jeremy ran and soon had 10 more cubes into the left box car. Mike powered out another set, as the other three men counted out the reps. “Another one,” bellowed Dave at the 10th rep finished. Mike pushed it up, obviously more effort than the others, and then Little Mike shouted, “Grow, man, grow!” and Mike did one more, than one more, his teeth gritting as he slowly lowered the weight back down. Mike stood up and the other men gasped at the way that his chest looked, pumped and sweaty, protruding out over his taut waist. Mike was breathing deeply and his chest expanded with every intake of breath and Little Mike whispered, “Oh man, it’s better every day.” Mike heard that and smirked as he stepped down from the platform and headed over to a similar one, the three men trailing him. Dave offered Mike a towel at the next station and the huge man wiped down his chest and stomach and wiped under each deep hairy armpit. He tossed it back to Dave who brought it up to his face and breathed in deeply. Mike laid down on another concrete pillar but this one was inclined at an angle. He grabbed a girder in each hand. A tractor trailer was welded onto the end of each girder and Mike quickly began to do incline flyes with them. He heard the sound of the forklift that Jeremy was driving over, and when he was done with the first set Dave and Jeremy each used a forklift to load a few car cubes into the open doorway at the side of each trailer. “Want to see me lift more?” Mike asked. “Hell yeah!” Tom answered. Mike laid down and quickly did a set, followed by another one once Dave and Jeremy had loaded in 5 more cubes per side. When he finished the last set Mike was panting a little but he felt great. Such power! It boned him up when he lifted like this, and he lifted like this every day. His three helpers watched him walk down slowly from the weight station. They saw the bulge in his jeans and hoped to get a glimpse of the thick head peaking out from the bottom of the cut-off shorts. Mike walked over to them, rather than heading for the decline bench with the cement mixers. “Damn, boys, I’m horned up right now. I think that I have to take care of it before going on with the work out.” The men were thrilled, because usually when this happened they were treated to two sets of muscle sex, rather than one. Mike rubbed his swelling crotch with his right hand while he felt his bloated right pec with his left hand. It was so hard and firm, harder than one of the metal cubes that he had tossed into the box car earlier. Little Mike was hoping that he would get a chance to suck off the big man today – it had been 3 days since he had. Tom felt in his pocket for the tube of lubricant, hoping that he would get fucked again like last week. But Mike had other plans. “Guys, I must have spring fever. So randy that I want to really cut loose now. Sorry, but I’m going to take care of this bad boy myself,” he said as he unzipped his fly. The three men were crestfallen even as their excitement grew at the sight of the thick cockhead pressing Mike’s jock through the open fly. This hadn’t happened before; Mike always let them get off on his muscles. Mike pushed the denim shorts down, exposing the round globes of his glutes. He shifted weight on one foot and the left cheek became streaked with radiating muscle striations. Tom was already fingering his cock through his open fly. Mike fingered the broad head of his cock as it strained even further against the jock, and then he tucked a finger into the waistband and slowly yanked the monster free. Jeremy undid his belt buckle and pulled his pants down to reveal a dick already at full throttle. Little Mike was not far behind, taking his big dripping tool out of his pants. Mike swirled his hand over his purple dick head, feeling the precum smoothing the abrasion of his hard calloused hand as it moved around it. His left hand went back to his right chest muscle, feeling under the rock of muscle and sweeping it around to the front. He grabbed his nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched hard as his right hand started to stroke his fully engorged rod. He remembered the feeling as he forced out a rep against the big cranes, wearing their motors down. He smiled a broad smile as he thought of the day, probably not so far away, when he would need two cranes for each hand to test his muscles, to make them grow even stronger. Mike moaned at that image, then thought of TV cameras beaming it to a world wide audience. Millions of men and women masturbating as they watched his muscles exerting their unrelenting power against the machinery, forcing it to submit in his quest to get stronger. He said out loud, “Guys, this is going to be something today,” as he squeezed his hand around his shaft and began to jerk it quickly. “Everyday I really get off on fucking you, getting sucked and jerked by you,” he said. “But I always have to hold back.” “Hold back?” Dave asked as he fisted his meat, staring directly at Mike’s chest. “Didn’t you ever think about it? How I could curl fully loaded dump trucks with each hand, yet still grab onto you while I fucked you standing up? The muscle control that’s involved to keep from squishing you like a grape. Then shooting a volley of cum in your ass. That takes control. Holding back.” “Shit, it gets me hot myself to think of how strong I am. The power and muscle. The majesty.” All three smaller men were standing close around Mike now, their own cocks aching in their hands. Mike was huffing harder than when he was benching and they knew that he was close. “Yeah, the fucking power, uggh, uggh, can’t hold back thinking about it!” Mike shouted. “Watch it!” Then a big glob of cum shot out from Mike’s cock, rocketing 20 feet across the yard to a boulder at the edge of the work out area. There was a load crack as the rock split into pieces and then another shot broke it further. The third load blasted it into small bits and the other men had to duck from being hit by the debris. Little Mike screamed like a girl at the sight and sent his own load splattering onto the dirt. Dave had tears in his eyes when he realized what Mike was talking about, as he shot, and Jeremy and Tom were just panting as they pumped cum all over the ground in front of them. Mike’s cum was not going as far now and was plopping a few feet in front of him, kicking up dirt into the air. His hand traveled down the length of his cock one last time, then he stopped and turned to them. “See what I meant about holding back? I would blast the back of your heads off if I didn’t control how hard my balls and crotch muscles pumped out that spunk.” Little Mike pressed his cheek against Mike’s furry chest and murmured, “What a way to go.” Mike smiled and rubbed his rough hand across Little Mike’s shaved head. “Hey, we have three more sets of chest to do today. Maybe when it’s done you can suck me off and think about it.”

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Friends, I just can’t write a short story -- I mean, I can’t write a story that’s short. I swear, I’ve tried -- I even tried here -- but for some reason, I get started and I suddenly realize I’m writing ANOTHER long-ass rambling. Forgive me. And if your erotic attention span isn’t long enough to get to my denouement, well… what can I say? I warned you.) BOY IN A BAG By absman420 He’d reached a time in his life when compliments ended with “for your age” -- “You’re in great shape… for your age” or “I hope I’m still training that hard when I’m your age” and the like (“the like” being “sure, you’re bald, but at least your head has a nice shape”) -- that little barb hidden inside the kindness, wrecking the whole thing. Didn’t people realize how patronizing that was? How condescending? Worse, he’d gone from desirable muscle-daddy to invisible man almost overnight. The gym, which had always been a flirty, playful place, was now a place where men practiced the art of aversion -- no eye-contact, no acknowledgement, no existence. The arc of life for the gay top, he consoled himself as he lay on the gym mat, stretching -- prostates, erectile dysfunction, man-boobs, nope… you can’t fight time. Look at those beautiful boys! There was a seeming pack of them at the gym, dim-witted and gorgeous, ponderously over-built but for their baby-faces, endlessly posing and giggling with each other -- oh, how he wished the kind of designer drugs that existed now had existed when HE’D been their age! Hell, in his day, they used to inject veterinary-grade horse testosterone! Now it was all pro-hormone this and peptide that -- they had these perfect bodies and these perfect complexions and no fucking clue how lucky they were. There they were now in their tights and their meggings showing off their beautiful asses and their full, unatrophied balls -- they lifted their shirts so often to check their abs it’s like they had to keep reminding themselves they had them. Wilson sighed -- he was envious and he knew it. It never used to bother him, but lately Wilson had discovered himself crossing some imaginary line to old man. Sexually, he didn’t seem to have “it” anymore -- no one seemed attracted to him. His body was still fairly good -- for his age -- certainly nothing like it was back when he competed, but if no other truth became clearer to Wilson as he got older it was that gravity always won. Hell, even after you die, gravity keeps pulling you back down. Suddenly, dropping down next to him on the mat -- see? gravity -- another beauty of a guy -- mid-thirties, maybe, spent too much time in the sun, but an amazing body. As he started to stretch, he looked at Wilson and smiled. “Hey, hot daddy,” he said. “Hey, hot muscleboy,” Wilson said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said -- almost by habit. The guy stopped what he was doing and met Wilson’s gaze. He smirked. “Woof,” he said. Wilson barked a laugh. “You’re too kind,” he said. “But someone like you should be flirting with those ridiculously hot boys over there, not wasting your charm on old guys like me.” “I like old guys like you,” he said as he glanced over at the pretty boys. “They’re a bunch of doofuses. Pretty… but overpriced.” He chuckled. “I don’t have to pay… yet.” Wilson sighed as he stretched his hamstring. “I don’t have to pay, either.” The guy laughed. “No,” he said. “Not when you got hunky guys like me throwing themselves at you.” “Oh? Are you throwing yourself at me?” “I think so,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Jonas. Wanna fuck?” ********************************************************* Wilson hadn’t fucked anyone at the gym in years -- and here he was slamming the fuck out of this hot muscle-guy in the posing room. Thank God everything was cooperating -- at his age, his cock wasn’t always agreeable to spontaneous sex. But there was something about this guy Jonas -- fucking beautiful body -- fucking AMAZING ass -- that made his cock proceed with confidence. Of course they were rushed -- who knew when one of the bodybuilders (or that roving gang of pretty boys) would decide they wanted the posing room for themselves? And if they DID come in, would they be repulsed or intrigued? Would they run or join? Fight or flight? They fucked facing the mirror, Jonas bent over the small bench that people normally dropped their clothes or gym bags on. God, he was beautiful! Muscular without being thick-waisted -- and his ass! A dream! A delicacy! Bubbled and round, but firm and no-nonsense -- when he flexed it, it was rock hard, but when he was relaxed, it was a cushion that Wilson loved pushin’. They both still wore their gym clothes -- and for that, Wilson could only be grateful, no need to see his saggy ass body next to this prime beast. Why couldn’t HE still be in his prime? Looking at his bald head and white beard in the mirror, he couldn’t help think he was off-season santa. No… don’t get distracted, you old fuck. Old maybe, but Wilson’s cock was still it’s big familiar self. As a youth, he learned he was a grower. He didn’t realize how big his cock WAS until he’d started having gay encounters. He thought all those guys in the locker room with big, soft cocks must get ENORMOUS when hard. Little did he know. And who didn’t love a true top? And who didn’t love a muscular top, at that? Wilson’s most exciting discovery when he’d first come to California was that a lot of the hypermuscular bodybuilders were bottoms, all of them looking for a big, strong Daddy to give them what they needed, discipline and dick. Wilson was good at both. But if there was one thing this old man couldn’t do, it was edge. He was nearly ready to cum before he’d even gotten a steady rhythm going. Or maybe it was just that this guy Jonas had some talent. “Oh fuck,” Wilson said, “I’m gonna cum! I can’t stop myself!” “Lemme have it, daddy!” Jonas grunted. “Put it deep in my hungry hole!” “Oh, shit!” sighed Wilson, and blew it. Old fucking man, he thought. When you were young, you’d have made that last longer than two minutes. Embarrassing. But Jonas didn’t seem to mind, as he set about the business of jerking off while Wilson’s dick was still inside him. Wilson reached around and pinched the guy’s nipples, tiny little small things on the swell of enormous pecs. “Oh, yes,” Jonas moaned, standing up a little straighter. When he shot his load, his cum hit the mirror, nearly three feet away. Pulling out and wiping off on his gym towel, Wilson did his best to throw off his embarrassment -- still, he tucked himself back in his jockstrap and shorts pretty fast. Nervous, he didn’t want to seem too desperate, or too grateful. “That was fucking hot,” Jonas said, wiping his cum off the mirror with his t-shirt. “I haven’t done anything like this in years,” Wilson said. “I can’t even remember the last time I was naughty at the gym. I think it was two owners ago, in the old steam room….” “You should do it more often,” Jonas said, putting the t-shirt in his gym bag. “You got a great dick.” Wilson chuckled. “Maybe,” he said, “but I can’t rely on him always performing on cue anymore. And, as you can see, it doesn’t always last that long.” “Don’t make excuses,” Jonas said, kissing him quickly as he walked past. “It was great. Not that I couldn’t get you something that would make it a little greater.” “Oh, really? I hate to step on your sales pitch, but I’ve tried just about every form and flavor of ED therapy there is, every pill and troche and injection and testicular device. Every rub and scrub and lotion from the tribal Amazon basin. At some point, a man has to accept a certain sexual inevitably.” Jonas laughed. “So I guess I should give you my card. I’m an ambassador for a local pharmacy that specializes in anti-aging.” Wilson smiled. “Is this a sales technique of yours?” “Why? Is it working?” Wilson lightly put his hand on Jonas’ round, firm ass. “Let’s say I’m intrigued,” Wilson purred. “And interested in more.” Jonas flicked his eyebrows. “Definitely,” he said. And they kissed. ********************************************************* “So, the company I work for has perfected a peptide growth-hormone variant that has shown spectacular success in testicular rejuvenation, visceral fat loss and muscle retention. They can’t call it the fountain of youth in a bottle, but it basically is. It’s still in limited release, but I have access to it -- if you want to try it.” “Really?” asked Wilson, genuinely intrigued, but nervous -- he never pictured an open conversation like this in a locker room. In his day, steroids had codewords and were discussed hush-hush in private. Nowadays almost nothing was illegal -- it was all prescribed! “I promise it’s nothing but good,” he said, standing there in just his towel, hung low over his narrow hips. “I mean, I’VE done it.” “You? On anti-aging therapy?” Wilson laughed, trying not to look like he was covering his saggy barrel belly. “You can’t be more than 30, 35 at most.” Jonas’ smile widened. “Bless you,” he said. “I’m fifty-three.” Wilson was dumbfounded. His jaw hung slightly open as he tried to take in the truth of Jonas’ statement. It was impossible -- it was some kind of weird joke. A guy he was calling “boy” a few minutes ago was only six years younger than him? Impossible! “Impossible…” “Is this the part where I show you my driver’s license?” Jonas laughed -- his good humor was unflappable. “Trust me, I was born in the sixties… and I’ve got the Bobby Sherman albums to prove it!” “But…” Wilson mumbled, making an empty gesture toward Jonas’ abs, his impossible mid-section. His youthful skin. “I can even get it for you at my rate -- c’mon, you know you wanna do it. Don’t be an old man… anymore.” They made eye contact -- Jonas smiled slyly. “Do it.” And Wilson was surprised by how quickly he said, “Okay.” ********************************************************* That was how Wilson found himself at Jonas’ beach house in Malibu that evening, watching the sun set over the ocean as Jonas explained the procedure. Wilson had done SOME research during the afternoon -- he’d read the pharmacy’s website, but found precious little about the actual compound he’d be taking. Just that it had been in trial tests and results had been promising. “It’s a series,” Jonas said, opening a small white cardboard box adorned with the pharmacy’s logo and removing an IV bag. “Four treatments -- one a week, sometimes ten days, depending on how quickly your body responds to the formula. Takes about a half-hour to do the IV. Side effect: it can make you a little nauseous, so you might want to crash here tonight. You might even just want to lay out here under the stars.” “Your house is beautiful,” Wilson said, settling into a lounge chair on the patio. “Perhaps I should’ve become a pharmacy rep when I retired.” Jonas laughed. “I’m also a pimp on the side,” he said, setting up the IV-stand next to Wilson’s chair. “Believe me, the best part of rejuvenation is the sex -- you forget how much you missed it.” Wilson was eye-level with Jonas’ thick package, proudly displayed in his too-small speedo -- Wilson licked his lips. “I can’t wait,” he said. “Let me get you set up then.” Jonas tied a rubber tube around Wilson’s bicep and said, “Give me a vein.” Wilson squeezed his fist and his forearms popped. Jonas tore the needle out of it’s sterile wrapper and inserted it so neatly and painlessly into Wilson’s vein that Wilson realized the guy had a ton of experience. He attached the IV-line and the began the transfusion. “Beautiful,” he said, removing the rubber tube tourniquet and allowing Wilson’s blood to flow. “It’ll take about a half hour.” Wilson was still looking at Jonas’ junk. “No worries. I love the view.” ********************************************************* “A little nauseous” didn’t begin to describe it. Even the slightest movement caused his belly to flip, even less to flop. His body burned, a fire raging through him -- he’d go between rounds of horrible sweating to shakes of coldness as his wet clothes clung to him. It was worse than the worst flu he’d ever had. At one point, he remembered himself on the toilet, shit exploding out of him -- everything nasty coming out. The piss, the shit, the vomit -- who knew he had so much crap inside him. He was spewing every bit of it out. There were times he was aware of Jonas hovering over him, caring for him. “You’re doing great, Willy,” he thought he heard Jonas say. Why would he call him that? Wilson was delirious. Jonas put a cold-compress on his forehead -- he thought. Did he remember that? Imagine it? Hours later, as the fever broke, Wilson passed out. ********************************************************* His morning wood woke him, insistent and throbbing -- how many years had it been since he’d had THAT problem? Absently, he grabbed his cock with his hand, mildly impressed by it, as he surfaced back to reality. He was still lying on the lounge chair on Jonas’ patio, though someone had thrown a comforter over him sometime during the night. The sunrise was behind the house, casting long, cool shadows across the beach. He vaguely remembered moments of puking and sweating and diarrhea, but there seemed no evidence of that now -- his shorts and t-shirt were clean and dry. The only differences were this blanket… ...and this hard-on. Wilson lay quietly for a moment, listening to the ocean lap on the shore as he casually stroked his cock -- which seemed a bit more of a handful than usual, but that was probably because he hadn’t been this hard in a while. This was a teenager’s erection. And it felt really good. “Looks like someone’s up,” Jonas called, coming through the patio door carrying a coffee tray -- he was dressed in only an open bathrobe and a pair of tighty-whities, tight because of how he filled them. “How do you feel?” Wilson laughed. “I feel good,” he said, smiling. “Morning wood kind of good!” “That’s what I like to hear!” Jonas said, setting the coffee service down on the table. “It’s funny,” Wilson said, still absently playing with his hard-on beneath the comforter. “I swear I was sick overnight, like it was really bad, but now I feel clean and… hell, even my breath is fresh!” Jonas poured him a cup of coffee. “The first dose tends to clean out the internal systems…. Sugar? Milk?” “Black,” Wilson said, gladly taking the cup. Jonas continued talking as he made a coffee for himself. “As I was saying, first dose hits the internal system: the gut, the liver, kidneys, digestive system, endocrine system, sex organs. This week, as your internal systems reset, you’ll continue to feel better and better, healthier, I guess you could say. By the end of the week, you won’t even get acid reflux anymore. And wait’ll you see what it does to your sex drive.” “I’m already seeing that,” Wilson said. “I haven’t had morning wood in decades.” Jonas smiled that crooked, sly smile. “Don’t lose that,” he said. “I might want it after coffee.” “That’s the only cream I’ll take.” ********************************************************* Jonas had been right -- as the week progressed, Wilson did continue to feel better. His energy was better. His recuperation time was faster. Hell, even his poops were good -- and for an old man, like an old dog, quality of poops was everything. It all contributed to his good mood -- he felt good inside, healthy, and he couldn’t help but smile. He may still be an old, bald, white-bearded guy on the outside, but inside he felt good as new. People noticed. “Someone’s in a good mood!” they’d say to him at the gym, but with his workouts improving the way they were, it wasn’t a surprise. He hadn’t gotten pumps this good in a long while. His dizzy smile made sense -- and it felt good, too. Screw them if they wanted to wallow in their misery -- they weren’t gonna drag old Wilson down anymore. And his dick kept making itself known. Hell, he hadn’t had so many spontaneous erections since he’d been a teenager. Even at rest, it seemed half-hard -- and he’d swear it was bigger. He’d swear it. And his balls seemed fuller, too - -of course, they were working for the first time in years. Hell, Wilson figured he’d killed his balls off decades ago, putting himself through the kind of cycles he had when he’d been a competitor. But now, it seemed everything was back online. He didn’t try to show it off, but he felt like his cock was obvious in everything he wore -- and he liked it. He fucking liked EVERYTHING! ********************************************************* Here they were, the next Saturday evening, back on Jonas’ patio in Malibu. “So you like it so far?” Jonas asked. “Ready for the second dose?” “I love it!” Wilson cried happily. “Bring it on!” So Jonas set-up the second of the four IV-pouches, finding Wilson’s vein a little more easily than before. Wilson was delighted by the whole thing. “So the first dose reset your internal organs and systems, at the least -- in some cases, probably started the regeneration of some things -- but this next dose will be a little more obvious externally.” “In what way?” Wilson asked, watching the flow of liquid head down the tube. “Just like with growth hormone, the decrease of visceral fat -- you know, fat on internal organs. You’re gonna lean out like you were in a competition, but you don’t have to worry about diet. Lean and hard!” Wilson laughed. “I’m already hard!” Jonas laughed, too. “So I see. You just wait.” ********************************************************* With the second bag empty, Wilson was pleased that he didn’t feel as nauseous this time. But he did feel warm. Feverish, almost. “How you feelin’?” Jonas asked, disconnecting the IV. Wilson seemed to search for the right word. “Hot,” he mumbled. “Like a fever…” Jonas felt his forehead. “Yup. C’mon,” Jonas said, indicating Wilson to follow him, “let’s get on the stationary bike.” Wilson reluctantly climbed on the bike -- he was dizzy from fever -- he slid his feet into the straps. “I don’t think…” Jonas smiled. “You don’t need to think, Willy. I got you covered. Right now, you just need to pedal. Can you pedal for me?” “Yeah…” Jonas pressed a button on the bike’s console and the pedals started moving, forcing Wilson’s legs to move with them. “You got a terrible fever,” Jonas said into Wilson’s ear. “You gotta burn it out.” “Okay…” And so he pedaled. And pedaled. And Lord how he sweat. Delirious, he lost track of time and place. Jonas had thrown a towel over his head and that wiped out Wilson’s awareness. He pedaled and sweat, pumped and dripped. Occasionally, his exhaustion would slow him, his delirium would disorient him, but then he’d hear Jonas from somewhere saying, “Keep pedaling, Willy,” and he’d obey. He couldn’t reason enough to resist. Finally, hours later when the fever broke, he passed out -- he felt himself collapse on the bike’s console. But he was also aware of someone dragging him somewhere and laying him down. That same someone squeezed his rock hard cock and kissed his forehead. Wilson heard, “Go to sleep, Willy.” And he did. ******************************************************** He woke the same way as he had the week before: morning wood — throbbing, insistent morning wood. The only difference was this time there was a mouth on it, someone swallowing his big erection to the root. Wilson opened his eyes to see Jonas’ head bobbing up and down on his swollen cock. Wilson intended to lean his head back and shut his eyes, but by then he’d seen his own abs. His own abs! He was lean -- like, competition lean -- no, better than he’d been in competition! Wilson hadn’t competed in over thirty years -- some would argue that he’d gone to seed in that time -- but to look at his body in the morning sun, his abs flexing with each deep breath he took, following the tempo of Jonas’ rhythm, you’d think he was a sun-tan away from the Stage. “Oh my god, look at me!” he said, feeling his own torso with his hands, tweaking his own nipples (and even his nipples were pert and sensitive). He flexed a double-bi. “Look at me!” And with that, he shot his load, filling Jonas’ mouth and throat with a spectacular amount of cum. ********************************************************* It was really just the start of the process. For the remainder of the week, Wilson lost even more body-fat -- by the following Friday, his waist had tightened to an unimaginable thirty inches! Wilson was pretty sure the last time his waist was thirty inches was in Middle School, nearly fifty years ago. Even as a bodybuilder in his prime, Wilson had a roid gut, his abs pushed out by his swollen liver and internal organs. But over the course of the week, his roid gut became a lean, but densely muscled core. It accentuated his upper-body’s V-shape as well as the thick mass of his thighs. Part of him wanted to wear the same kind of tights he saw on those hot muscle boys -- as it was, Wilson’s legs were bigger than any two of them put together -- but he found himself a victim of the same insecurities he’d always had. “Get the fuck over yourself,” he laughed. “You could seduce every one of those boys if you’d change your stupid attitude.” He was actually starting to believe that. Maybe it was just his relentless good mood. But how could you not be in a good mood when your hair was growing back in? Oh yeah, that was the other thing. Sure, he was working out for hours a day, recuperating more and more quickly, losing body-fat while gaining muscle, but he was also regrowing his hair! It’s true! His bald head had sprouted a new growth, a new harvest of hair. He thought he’d made peace with being bald, but the renewed growth of hair on his head gave him a sense of elation even greater than the continued growth of his penis, or the fullness of his balls. Looking at himself in the mirror -- and how he was loving what he saw -- even his sensational abs couldn’t keep his focus. Every line in his incredible torso led the eye to his substantial package. But not Wilson’s — his eyes were drawn to the hair growing back on his head. His beard, which last week was completely white, was now two-thirds white, the odd reddish-brown hue of his youthful beard fighting its way in. For a man nearing sixty, Wilson looked middle-aged. Wrapped in a towel, as he made his way to the shower, the gang of muscle boys came in the locker room. Five of them, they were so beautiful -- youthful faces with these hyper-masculine bodies, over-developed muscle with the sizeable genitals they so proudly flaunted. Groomed to perfection, plucked and preened and peacock proud, they strutted in like they owned the place, all of them smiling and giggling and showing off. To Wilson, they were silly boys. Built, silly boys. Even feeling as good as he did, even looking as good as he was, Wilson felt intimidated by them. Like they were going to judge him and laugh at him. And dismiss him. But then, the unexpected happened. One of the boys made eye-contact with him, a beautiful Italian boy with black hair and sparkling blue eyes - lashes like Bambi. He made eye-contact with Wilson then quickly looked him up-and-down, then eye-contact again. He lifted his eyebrows and seductively smirked. Oh my god, Wilson laughed to himself. I just got cruised by one of them! In the shower, he jerked off thinking about it. ********************************************************* The third dose had really been the kicker, as far as Wilson was concerned. Even the burning nausea after the IV hadn’t been as bad, certainly not in comparison with the plusses. The morning after the third treatment, Wilson woke with a full head of hair, the same shade of auburn he’d had as a young man (not the glaring Opie-like red of his childhood)! Even his beard was now mostly reddish-brown -- overnight, he’d gone from a white beard with brown highlights to a brown beard with white highlights. Weirder still was that he lost all his body hair -- all the punishing old man hair, the ear hair, the back hair, the shoulder hair -- his leg hair and arm hair, too. Hell, even his ass was smooth -- baby smooth! He had the tiniest bit of pubic hair -- nothing on the genitals, themselves -- and his armpits had the same bare dusting. He considered shaving just to be done with it. His skin was smooth and flawless. As a redhead, his skin had been freckled and scarred from the sun -- the acne he had as a teen still left its mark -- but now, it was if his skin had regenerated (maybe it had!), as if it had started fresh. No wrinkles, no pock marks, no bags, no moles -- not even calluses on his hands! Studying himself in the mirror, he couldn’t attach an age to his face. Maybe forty -- maybe thirty-five and prematurely graying? Certainly not sixty -- and that was all that mattered. He was spending an insane amount of time at the gym, but his workouts felt so good he didn’t want to stop. His muscles kept growing, his waist kept tightening -- the pumps he got were nearly as good as sex -- and he felt so fucking amazing. He couldn’t help but flex in the mirror after a set, raising his shirt if he had to. He loved when he caught people looking, especially those boys… He was doing crunches at the end of his workout when he happened to spot Jonas on the far side of the gym, joking around with some old guy -- Wilson didn’t recognize the guy, but he was surprised to find himself the tiniest bit jealous. Did he have a thing for Jonas? “Forget about that guy,” a voice next to Wilson said, surprising him. Wilson glanced over quickly to see that muscular Italian Boy with the Bambi lashes squatting down next to him on the mat. He wore neon green tights and a white sleeveless t-shirt, his overly muscular arms exposed and pumped. When they made eye-contact, the boy smiled -- perfect, white teeth beneath soft, full lips. Wilson, still on his back, returned the smile and asked, “What are you talking about?” The boy nodded toward Jonas. “That guy, Jonas,” he said. “Forget it. He only goes for the old guys.” Wilson barked a laugh. “What?” “Seriously,” the boy said, “the old guys -- the really old guys -- the grandpas. You don’t stand a chance.” From the floor, Wilson offered the boy his hand. “Wilson,” he said. The boy shook it with both his. “Hi Wilson. I’ve seen you around. You’re super-hot…” Wilson waited for the inevitable “...for your age” but it never came. The boy just squatted there holding Wilson’s hand and grinning. Wilson prompted him. “And you are…?” The boy blushed. “Oh… duh. I’m Roddy.” “Roddy?” “HOT Roddy,” the boy said, laughing. The light sparkled in his blue eyes. “That’s my club name. I’m a go-go dancer!” “Of course you are,” Wilson chuckled — the kid was so sincere. Then, as Wilson started his next set of crunches, he glanced toward Jonas, who was still working the old man. The boy, Roddy -- Hot Roddy -- suddenly stepped over Wilson’s torso, straddling him. “What are you doing?” Wilson asked. The boy smiled, squatting slightly. “Keeping your attention,” he said, and began swaying his hips to some unheard beat. Go-go dancing. God, he was beautiful. In a move he hadn’t used since high school wrestling, Wilson sat up, taking the boy’s feet out from under him, put him on his ass and then rolled him back onto his shoulders, Wilson between the boys legs, his cock pressing right into the boy’s crack. Looking him straight in the eye, Wilson said, “Now you’ve got my attention.” The boy was breathless, flustered -- delighted. “My apartment is right upstairs,” he said. ********************************************************* They were making out before they got in the front door. Roddy was an amazing kisser -- passionate, hungry -- their connection had the desperate electricity of teen-aged horniness, randy and rowdy, but with the skill and ability of men far more experienced. For someone so young, Roddy knew a lot about giving pleasure -- and he gave it his all. Hairless and smooth, an over-developed upper body with lean, cut legs (though a beautifully bubbled ass) the Italian Boy (with the Bambi lashes) had soft, pink, puffy nipples, perfect for sucking. And it soon became apparent that Wilson’s beard gave the boy as much stimulation as his mouth had. The boy went absolutely crazy when Wilson ate out his pink, hairless hole -- it tasted fresh and clean. “Fuck me,” the boy begged. “Please fuck me!” Wilson’s dick -- now almost as much a shower as it was a grower -- was happy to oblige. The boy was able to take it -- after a little bit of work -- and they found a common rhythm in no time. They fucked for hours. ********************************************************* It turned out, Roddy WAS a dumbass, but he was so ridiculously sincere (and good looking) that Wilson was willing to put up with him for a while post-coitus. And the sex had been off the charts! He owed the boy something. “I like living here,” the muscleboy was saying as he snuggled against Wilson’s big pec. “It’s easy. All I gotta do is find the gym and I’m home!” “Do you get lost a lot?” Wilson teased, tracing a finger down the boy’s massive bicep. The boy’s smile faltered for a moment, like he was actually concerned about something, then the grin came back. “Not that often,” Roddy said, sincerely. “And my phone tells me, anyway. I just say, ‘City Gym’ into it and it takes me home -- it’s real easy.” He giggled. “Just like me!” Wilson laughed, too -- this kid couldn’t possibly be for real. “You make enough dancing to afford a two-bedroom apartment in this neighborhood?” “I used to have a roomate,” Roddy said. “He moved out -- I think he married some rich daddy.” “Is that the goal?” Wilson asked. “To marry some rich daddy?” “Not mine,” giggled Roddy, sliding on top of Wilson. “I’m not done being young.” With that, he licked his way down Wilson’s torso, following the grooves in Wilson’s abs, and took Wilson’s big cock in his mouth -- it was little work before the old man was ready to fuck again. ********************************************************* Wilson hadn’t realized he’d been at the gym all day until he glanced outside and saw the sun setting. He’d intended to come in and catch a little pump before heading over to Jonas’ house in Malibu, but it felt so good -- and his pump was so incredible -- he just kept going. Seeing the sun setting outside surprised him -- and even scared him a little. That meant he’d been in the gym for over ten hours -- and he wasn’t even tired. Just pumped. And ready. He drove to Jonas’ in his sweaty gym clothes and dirty jockstrap, his cock full and eager. He’d never in his life looked as good as he did right now and it was incomprehensible to him that he might get better. How? He was better built (and better looking) than Jonas -- and Jonas had gone through the cycle already. By the time he got to Jonas’ door, he was a kid at Christmas. Jonas’ reaction was everything Wilson wanted it to be, aghast and impressed -- Jonas’ cock immediately got hard. Wilson pulled off his shirt and started to flex, his 28” core rock solid and tight, at odds with his 53” chest and even bigger shoulders. Looking at his legs, it seemed possible that each of his quads was the same size as his waist. How could he even move? When he hit a double bi, Jonas fell on him and began worshipping. They didn’t make it out onto the patio until nearly midnight. ********************************************************* “Well, here we are,” Jonas said, “the fourth treatment. The Boy Bag!” Wilson laughed. “The what?” “The Boy Bag,” Jonas said, holding it up by the corner and shaking it. “The Fountain of Youth.” “Oh,” Wilson said, forcing a chuckle. “I get it.” “You think the other treatments have had an effect,” Jonas said, setting up Wilson’s IV, “wait’ll you get a load of this!” As usual, Wilson was mesmerized by the flow of the liquid into his bloodstream. After a minute or two, he asked, “What’s this one gonna do? I mean, dude, I’m already as big as you…” Jonas laughed quietly. “True, you’re as big as me -- bigger! And your cock is bigger than mine, too. Ok? You gotta trust me, Wilson. I’ve gone through this a few times.” Wilson was confused. “‘A few times’? What do you mean by…?” As he spoke, his hand twitched slightly -- he looked at it -- then it twitched again. “What’s going on?” Wilson asked. “Nothing bad,” Jonas said. “Don’t worry.” He sat down on the chair next to Wilson’s lounger. “Each treatment has focused on a different aspect of your rejuvenation, right? The first one regenerated your internal organs and hormonal systems, the second dealt with the removal of visceral body-fat and unwanted body-hair, the third took care of the skin, the regrowth of muscle and repopulation of hair follicles. This last one regenerates your nervous system -- you’ll find you’re going to be insanely sensitive.” Wilson’s other hand twitched -- the arm with the IV. Jonas motioned to it. “That’s gonna keep up while your nerves go through their thing. Best if I secure you while you got the IV in you. That cool?” Wilson’s feet began to move on their own -- it was like his limbs had the hiccups -- it was freaking him out a little. “Yeah,” he said, nervously. “Okay.” Jonas fetched heavy velcro straps from a cabinet nearby. Wilson watched his own limbs lay there lifeless, twitching like electric jolts were hitting him. Part of him wanted to get up, pull the IV out and run, but he wasn’t able to control his body. Now he was seriously getting scared -- whether he trusted Jonas or not. Jonas wrapped a strap around each of Wilson’s wrists, securing them to the arms of the lounge chair, then did the same to Wilson’s feet. Lastly, he took a very big strap and wrapped it around Wilson’s torso, velcroing him to the back of the lounge. The IV dripped away -- half-empty. “That’s better,” Jonas said, taking his seat again. “Now you won’t hurt yourself. How do you feel?” Wilson smiled nervously. “Scared,” he said. “I’d rather have the nausea.” Jonas snorted. “This is only tough for a minute, WAY better than the explosive shit on the first night!” They laughed together for a second, remembering. “I guess I should calm down,” Wilson said, even as his hands began twitching in earnest. “I mean, you’ve gone through this.” Jonas looked confused for a second, then shook his head. “Well... no,” he said. “Personally, I never did the whole cycle. I stopped at the third dose.” “What do you mean, stopped? Why? I thought you’d done this!” Jonas shook his head -- he seemed thoughtful. “No,” he said quietly. “See, the fourth treatment… regenerates the nervous system… and with it, the brain.” “So?” “So, it’s the nature of the formula to regenerate the organ -- make it new. So it tends to… wipe out a lot of what existed before. That’s why I didn’t want to do it -- I needed my mind intact.” He consoled. “Look, some stuff comes through okay, language skills.. Mostly. Intellectually, you end up on a third or fourth grade level. Some memory, not a lot. Interestingly, physical skills tend to remain -- like, you’ll remember how to work out, though you won’t really have to. You’ll be great at sports, dancing, any proprioceptive activity. And you’ll be amazing at sex…” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Wilson yelled, trying to fight the restraints -- trying to control anything having to do with his body. His beautiful body -- the body that was betraying him. “Make this fucking stop, man…!” His torso began to twitch and move as nerves reset and came to life. The bag was nearly empty. Jonas tapped it with his finger. “The Boy Bag,” he said. “That’s what I call it -- you’ll see. When we’re done, you’re gonna be a beautiful boy. My best one yet!” Wilson was starting to twitch hard -- Jonas sat on the edge of the lounge and held Wilson’s shoulders, securing him and looking in his eyes. “You’ve already fucked Roddy,” Jonas said. “He was one of my first -- and we’ve really improved the formula quite a bit since then.” “Roddy?” Wilson asked. “Hot Roddy? The boy?” Jonas laughed slyly. “That ‘boy’ is only nine years younger than you. Last year, when he was old man Rodney, he was a fat, fucking loser looking to have a heart attack. Now as Hot Roddy, he’s just about perfect. You will be, too. You should be happy, Willy. You’re the oldest test case we’ve processed so far and you’re exceeding our expectations by margins that you wouldn’t believe. Very promising -- I’m excited to get through this.” “Those boys?” Wilson asked, having difficulty forming his thoughts. “Those boys are all…?” “Old men,” Jonas said. “Just like you. And by this time tomorrow, you’ll be just like them: a dim-witted but friendly whore who’s made a contribution to science. Thank you, Willy. You’re gonna make me a lot of money.” “No,” Wilson cried, unable to fight. “I don’t… want this…” Jonas laughed gently and kissed Wilson on the forehead. He stood up and watched as the last few drops dripped out of the IV bag. “Everybody gets what they want,” Jonas said, pretending to focus on the liquid. “You get eternal youth, a freakish cock, and I get another muscle guy in my stable -- a big, dominant top at that. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you, Willy. I promise you’ll be happy.” “Fucker!” Wilson barked. “Lying fuck!” “I never lied to you,” Jonas said, disconnecting the IV from Wilson’s arm. “And I’ll be honest with you now -- this transition isn’t gonna be so pleasant. The good news is, you won’t remember it, so just… bear with it as best you can. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Jonas went back into the house, leaving Wilson strapped to the lounge chair on the deck overlooking the ocean. He thought about screaming, but thinking suddenly seemed to cause him pain. Everything caused him pain. White pain. Blinding, white pain behind his eyes, obscuring his vision. It fried and reconnected every nerve ending throughout his entire body -- it swelled and bloomed and revealed onion-like layers of agony until he felt his head would explode. His body arched in the chair as his spinal cord conducted the lightning that completely fried him. By the time it ended, he was already unconscious -- and time wasn’t a concept anymore. ********************************************************* Hot Roddy came out of the locker room wearing only a wrestling singlet under a baggy t-shirt, his magnificent ass showcased in the spandex, so tight the thong Roddy wore was obvious beneath the material. Roddy did love to dress the part. He’d gotten a text from Jonas to meet him at the gym. Roddy knew where the gym was, right downstairs! And Roddy would do anything Jonas told him to do -- deep inside, Roddy knew Jonas had somehow made Roddy hot. And sexy. And a go-go dancer! And Roddy was super-grateful! So if Jonas wanted Roddy to meet him at the gym, well, that was right downstairs! Roddy was stretching on the mat when Jonas walked in, followed by the most beautiful muscle boy Roddy had ever seen. A tall guy with bright orange hair -- the sides shaved down to a tight buzz leaving the top long, sweeping -- and a full, brown beard. (He was lucky to have so full a beard at such a young age — it made him look more grown-uppy. Besides, Roddy thought beards were super-sexy, especially the way they felt on his hairless hole!) The beard was meticulously groomed and oiled, as perfect as the guy’s eyebrows and haircut. He was insanely muscular, way bigger than any other guy in the gym -- he wore these cotton/spandex stretch jeans that hugged his legs like tights, showing off the mass of his quads, cuffed just below his over-sized calves, ankle-high boots. But the real sight was his package, massive and surreal, a porn-fantasy given life. He wore a scoop-neck long-sleeve t-shirt on top that would’ve exposed his whole deep cleavage but for the length of his beard. The bottom of the tee just barely covered the top of his package, hinting… hinting... The guy caught Roddy looking and smiled, the light catching his beautiful green eyes and beginning to dance. Obviously, he liked to be looked at. “Hot Roddy!” Jonas said, suddenly in Roddy’s face, hugging him. Roddy hugged Jonas back, but continued to look at the big redhead. “Hi, Jonas,” he said, smiling. “Who’s your friend?” “Roddy! I’ve solved your roommate problem! This is Willy -- he’s looking for a place to live!” “It’s Big Willy,” mumbled the big red-headed hunk to Jonas. “You said I get to be called Big Willy!” Proudly, he looked at Roddy and said, “It’s a joke, cuz my dick is so big!” Roddy looked. “It sure is,” he said, smiling. Willy leaned in, conspiratorially. “It’s a shower AND a grower,” he said, grabbing it with his big hand. Roddy said, already getting an erection, “I live right upstairs.” A smile broke out on Willy’s face. “You live at the gym?” he asked. “For reals? Man, I would love to live at the gym!” Roddy laughed. “It’s super-easy! And if you get lost, you just say, ‘where’s the gym?’ and you find your way back every time! It’s great!” They laughed together, giggling like school girls. “You wanna see the apartment?” Roddy asked, with a teasing tone. “Yeah, I do,” Willy said, reaching up under his shirt and stroking his hard core. “I’d love to live at the gym.” Roddy turned to Jonas. “Jonas, can we go see it?” Willy laughed, clapping Jonas on the shoulder. “Jonas said I’m gonna make movies!” Willy announced. “I’m gonna make show-off movies and sexy-flexy videos and pose in front of guys for money. If I live at the gym, I can be pumped all the time! Can I, Jonas? Can I live at the gym, Jonas? Can I live with Roddy and be ready to flex all the time?” Jonas smiled. “Of course you can, big boy. Live wherever you want — I want you to be happy! Roddy, take him upstairs and show him your place.” “Okay!” beamed Roddy, grabbing Willy’s hand and fairly skipping out to the elevator. “C’mon!” They left together, laughing. Jonas watched them go -- he smiled. Turning to one of the old men entering the locker room, Jonas followed him, saying, “Hey, hot daddy… woof...” The old guy smiled back. Jonas had him hooked before he jerked the guy off in the sauna -- this one was gonna work out even better.