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Absman420

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Absman420 last won the day on July 6 2018

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About Absman420

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    Washington DC
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
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    Male
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    Gay
  • What are your interests?
    Bodybuilding, bike riding (commuter cyclist here), writing erotic stories
  • What are your stats?
    6'1" 205lbs 46c 33w 17.5b
  • What are you seeking?
    Friends, like-minded men
  • What are your dream stats?
    6'1" 305lbs 56c 30w 24b
  • Favorite Stories
    anything erotic and thought-provoking at the same time
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Nasser, Branch, Dorian
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    Nip play, giving shots to bodybuilders

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  1. I've tried to make the humor in this as referential as it was in the original KING REX. I don't think you need to know about the LEGION to enjoy this series -- I tell you pretty much all you need to know to enjoy the story -- but knowing the LEGION adds a different level.
  2. I think most fans of the LEGION have been so for life. It almost takes that kind of slavish devotion.
  3. I know. I'm very excited about it! Although I initially "saw" it as a comic book annual, it got to be so long that I broke it into chapters. I'm working on chap 6 as I type this comment out of (probably) 12. Having a lot of fun.
  4. KING REX 2: THE HORDE OF FUTURE-HEROES PROLOGUE/ CHAPTER 1: The End of Time/ Horde Headquarters By absman420 PROLOGUE: The End of Time Decay. Entropy and decay as far as the eye could see. Even the empty wind moved nothing but sand, already having worn down any obstacle that may have stood in its wake -- eroded any object that may have existed in the past. Simply put, if not nearly impossible to imagine, there was nothing here. A vast and endless nothing. It was his domain -- the Time Stalker! His dull and faded robes, tattered and worn, covered his dry and withered flesh -- it had been years since he’d pulled back his hood to reveal a face he’d long since forgotten. Even if he remembered his own identity after all these billions of years, who would he reveal it to? Alone in his domain -- alone for time immeasurable -- the Time Stalker revelled in his ultimate victory, seeking only ways to push this final entropy backwards through the ages, to the beginning of Time itself, so that he’d be Master of All! Of course, there were those who stood against him. Time and again, the Horde of Future-Heroes had thwarted his plans. Misguided children! Noble Cockroaches! Their lifespans were barely more than a blink of the eye to one such as the Stalker -- yet, they’d disrupted his every effort. Inspired by the heroic exploits of the teenaged Superion a thousand years in their past, these youths banded together to unite their planets and carry on the Superionic Ideal, becoming the Horde of Future-Heroes! So many of them, easily two dozen at the least. Each of these heroes had one distinctive super power that made them unique and for a while a teenaged Superion traveled to the future to join them in their adventures. The Time Stalker knew the way to strike at them was through their relationship with Superion. Remove Superion from the equation and the Horde would have no inspiration. He’d tried many times -- in one instance, the Stalker had gone so far as to snag a moment of time itself to create a Pocket Universe, where Superion hadn’t gained his powers until adulthood, thereby negating the motivation for the Horde’s formation. Even THIS did not stop the Future-Heroes -- it merely made a continuity blip that repaired itself (and blew itself up again) multiple times, a recurring Crisis, rebooting and three-booting the Universe over and over. And STILL the Horde existed! There had to be some way to stop them... At that moment, something in the Time-Viewing Globe caught his eye. On one of the Multiple Earths, a trans-dimensional portal had opened. Upon closer examination, the Time Stalker saw what had happened, not only to the Superion of that world, but to the Justice Club as well! Maybe this was the tool he needed to defeat the Horde… or at least distract them. It took little effort to divert the portal and bring the entity using it here, to the Time Stalker’s domain. As it shimmered with an almost mirror-like finish, the oval-shaped portal opened and a being fell through, as if pushed. A male humanoid with a hyper-augmented musculature and oversized genitalia. An impressive specimen to be sure, dressed in purple spandex shorts that were banded at the waist and thigh with golden metallic bands, somehow emphasizing his endowment, purple boots, no gloves -- but golden gauntlets -- no shirt either, but somehow a metallic lightning bolt seemed attached to (a part of?) the skin of his massive pecs, a short white cape held around his thick neck by a golden tassel, and a bejewelled crown atop his square-jawed, handsome head. Wary, but not fearful, the man stood, taking in his surroundings, facing the hooded entity before him. “Where am I?” he growled. “And what are you? Death?” The Time Stalker chuckled, something he so rarely did, he couldn’t remember the last time -- so many years -- “I do not reap,” he said in his dry, raspy voice. “I sow. I sow carnage and entropy. The End of Time is so much more than mere death, mortal. I am the Time Stalker and this is my domain. And you, King Rex, as you would have yourself known, will soon be a tool for me in the defeat of the Horde of Future Heroes.” “I serve no one’s will but my own,” said the King, crossing his arms before his massive chest -- impressive, to be sure -- striking a posture of resistance. “I seek not your permission,” the Stalker hissed. “You will play out my orchestrations without even realizing it. Just by being yourself, King Rex, you will be my unwitting pawn.” And with that, Rex lashed out, opening his arms and releasing his power -- wave after wave of invisible mass, intent on weighing his opponent down. The power that had felled Superion. The Time Stalker shook it off as if it were little more than a pest, a nuisance. Deep within the shadows of his hood, Rex could almost see his smile. “Yes,” the Stalker said quietly. “That will do perfectly. But first, taste MY power…” With but a slight gesture, the Stalker deflected Rex’s attack and launched his own, a blast of chronal energy that hit Rex square in the chest -- it would’ve knocked him over if Rex’s mighty legs hadn’t already been braced. As he felt it rush past him, the chronal energy seemed to wash away the years as it went, like coarse sand would erode an object rushing by. When it was over, he wasn’t sure exactly what was different at first -- yes, he was slightly smaller, his muscles leaner, but still massive. No… it was his skin -- his skin was tighter! Tighter, smoother, softer, like when he’d been a boy. And that was when Rex realized -- the Time Stalker’s chronal blast had made him younger! He was no longer a full-grown man in the prime of his life -- now Rex was barely more than a teen. A hyper-muscular, over-endowed teen, to be sure, but a teen nonetheless -- maybe twenty on the outside. Even the hair on his head was youthful, shaggy and unkempt. And was he sporting a weak, teenaged beard? “What the hell…?” Even his voice had more tenor -- less of an edge. The Stalker was pleased. “Perfect,” he mumbled, chuckling. “Perfect. You still retain your powers and abilities, of course. And your lusts -- at your new age even more difficult to resist. But now you’ll fit in with the Horde, a contemporary, and so they’ll accept you. After that, it’s only a matter of time -- and time is what I know so well. And what I have so much of.” The Stalker made another gesture and a new trans-dimensional portal opened, shimmering just like the first, the one that had brought Rex here. “Go then and spread your sexual chaos,” the Stalker schemed aloud, “but not as King Rex, not yet. Not at YOUR new age.” He chuckled. “It’s not trite enough for them. Let them know you instead as Power Teen.” As he spoke, the Time Stalker seemed to grow, nearly eight feet tall by the time he said, “Do this for me and I promise you a reward that will shake the very foundation of continuity.” “Reward?” Rex asked, finally interested. Rex felt himself pushed, though there was no one to push him. But he felt pushed, for sure -- hands on his chest, shoving him into the trans-dimensional portal. He tumbled backwards through it -- his super-strength nothing in the face of this force -- and landed, unceremoniously, on his ass, on a weird sort of plastic-feeling pavement, so different from the decayed, unstable sandy surface at the End of Time. This new place was super-clean, sleek in a souped-up, science-fiction kind of way, notable for the absence of litter and pollution as much as the bright, metallic colors. As he stood, brushing some errant sand from his muscular ass, Rex realized that he was standing on a Pavilion of sorts, and there were quite a number of people milling about. Young people -- some of them in their early teens -- some of them not even HUMAN -- dressed in garash, stylized superhero garb. “Attention, Candidates…” The announcement caused Rex to turn around, where her faced a large building that was shaped like the back-end of a retro-styled rocketship sticking up out of the ground, brandished with a large letter “H”. In front of the “H”, a holographic banner read, “Horde Tryouts Today.” ********** HORDE HEADQUARTERS -- Earth The Horde Future-Hero Pavillion Before Rex could gather his thoughts, the announcement continued. “Welcome to Horde Membership Tryouts. We will begin our initial screening here on the Future-Hero Pavilion. When it’s your turn, tell us your real name, your planet of origin, the codename you’d like and a summation of your powers. Be prepared to demonstrate your powers as well. If you pass this phase, you will go inside the clubhouse for the next stage. Thank you and good luck.” Rex smiled as he realized the obviousness of the Time Stalker’s plot -- still, he wasn’t sure why he should play along. Infiltrating and corrupting this Horde could be a fun way to spend the day, no doubt, but that a being like the Time Stalker wanted so badly for him to do it, he wondered if he should. Really… what was in it for him? And then, as if on cue, the clubhouse doors opened and two of the Horde emerged. Because of his position -- Rex was near the back of the crowd -- he had to stand on the balls of his feet to see. On the left was something that looked like a human and a computer were merged together -- blue skin, with obviously fake light blue hair, but the rest of him was almost completely bio-circuitry, living, breathing AI. He wore a sleeveless white jumpsuit, tucked into light gray boots -- a heavy belt strapped around his waist that seemed to have multiple controls and functions. “Smartiak 6,” someone next to Rex said, in awe of the being. “He has a computer mind -- a twelfth-level intelligence with an all-too human heart.” He DID look like a computer had fucked someone, thought Rex -- but it was fleeting. As he tried to imagine what kind of cock Smartiak 6 had, he saw Smartiak’s companion. It couldn’t be…? Yet, somehow it was. Superion. But not the Superion that Rex had transformed into His Royal Consort -- this was a younger version, at least a decade younger than the Superion Rex knew. How could Superion exist as a youth a thousand years in his adult future? Was this what the Time Stalker had been talking about when he’d said Rex would “shake the foundation of continuity”? This youthful Superion had the same costume as his adult-self, the same S-shield across his chest -- but he had the build of a highly-trained teen athlete, a gymnast or a swimmer, lean and tight -- spectacular abs, Rex noted -- not the heavy musculature he carried as an adult, even before Rex augmented it. But it couldn’t be…? “It couldn’t be…” Rex mumbled aloud. The creature next to him took that as a cue to talk. “It is!’ the creature said, waving one of its many hands. “Everyone knows the legend: inspired by the deeds of the universal hero Superion, the Horde began as a club for young superheroes. At first, it was just a few Adventures. But as they became popular, the three founders when back in time a thousand years and recruited a youthful Superion to join their ranks, eventually becoming known as TEEN SUPERION AND THE HORDE OF FUTURE-HEROES!” “‘TEEN Superion’...?” “I know,” the creature said, giggling. “Isn’t he DREAMY?” Teen Superion was dreamy, indeed, Rex thought, glancing back at the young hero as he and Smartiak 6 stepped onto an electric platform hovering under the banner reading “Horde Tryouts today” -- his sleek musculature and those teeny, tiny hips, Rex just wanted to pound his hole. “Good Morning, Candidates!” Teen Superion announced in a strong, youthful voice. “We want to welcome you to this first round of Horde Tryouts. When it’s your turn, tell us your name, your proposed code-name, your planet of origin and be prepared to demonstrate your power.” There were quite a number of applicants, although most had little to offer in the way of actual power. Many seemed to be more sight-gag oriented, superfans with ridiculous code-names like “Fruit-Ripening Boy”, “Chlorine Kid” or “Ida Eyeballs”. Smartiak 6 would deny them and then Teen Superion would make some sort of comforting quip. Still, the hopeful would-be heroes were disappointed -- they’d lost the universe’s biggest talent show. And then they called on Rex, who suddenly realized he’d been standing in line without knowing it. As he approached the platform, he saw that same look in Teen Superion’s eyes that he‘d become so accustomed to when men first saw Rex’s hyper-muscled body and hyper-masculine endowment -- that moment of shock and envy. Of course, Teen Superion had no way of knowing that Rex had already enslaved his future self. That made this moment all the more delightful. “I am Rex of Earth,” he said with some amusement, legs spread, hands on hips, displaying himself proudly. “Code name: Power Teen. Aside from super-strength and my obvious physical prowess, I have the ability to give and take mass and strength away from someone. If I were battling Teen Superion, for example, I could take sap him of his strength -- or, if he were my ally, I could ADD to his strength, if such a thing were ever necessary.” “Fascinating,” said Smartiak 6, obviously contemplating Rex’s potential like Rex was a chess-piece. “Can you give us a demonstration?” asked Teen Superion, hopping down off the platform, a confident smirk on his face. Although the same height, Rex outweighed Teen Superion by at least fifty muscular pounds. Still, the super-teen held his stance, defiant -- Rex couldn’t help but remember Teen Superion’s adult self kneeling at Rex’s feet and sucking Rex’s mighty cock. Now it looked like Rex was going to get to seduce Superion all over again. The thought turned him on, regardless of the temporal chaos it would cause. “Gladly,” said Rex, lifting his arms in a grappling stance, as if he were about to begin a wrestling match. Moving so quickly he was little more than a blur, Teen Superion zipped behind Rex and put him in a Full Nelson -- it was like being in an iron vice, immovable and solid. Rex seemed helpless. “Well, I guess that ends that pretty quickly,” Teen Superion said smugly -- Rex enjoyed the feeling of Teen Superion pressing against him. “Not quite yet,” said Rex, bending his arm and gently touching Teen Superion. Almost immediately, Teen Superion’s hold weakened. “What’s happening?” he asked, suddenly breathless. Left with less strength than a normal human, Teen Superion’s Full Nelson was easily broken by Rex, as he effortlessly flipped the young hero onto his back on the Pavilion before them. He held Teen Superion against the ground with just his flat hand. “Now what do you think?” he quietly asked the helpless hero. Teen Superion smiled weakly. “I propose Full Horde Membership!” he said. [CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2 -- COMING SOON!] *********** From the Fanzine Column ABSMAN BLABS, MAN: A “LASS”, A “LAD”, ALAS AND ALACK A word about the HORDE OF FUTURE-HEROES. Debuting in 1958 in PASSIVE COMICS #247, the original eight-page HORDE story was largely a throwaway idea -- Teen Superion, visited by three Super Teens from the future, is invited to join their superhero club. After initially failing in some rigged initiation tests, there are knowing laughs, and that’s the end of that. All in all, a very simple and childlike adventure, reminiscent of most PASSIVE COMICS from the Silver Era. The Horde caught on though, and readers demanded more. The Horde’s adventures began appearing regularly in TEEN SUPERION comics as a backup, but became so popular that the book’s name changed to TEEN SUPERION AND THE HORDE OF FUTURE-HEROES and eventually, with issue #259 took over the title completely, renamed simply THE HORDE. Most of the Horde Members are identified to be in their mid-to-late teens during this era -- but it wasn’t until the 1970’s that the Horde had aged enough to include “Space Opera” elements into the storyline -- romance, intrigue and betrayal. Hot artist Matt Grail launched himself to fame bringing sweeping changes to the Horde’s costumes and modernizing the design of the 30th century -- making it look strangely like a sci-fi disco-fest -- lots of skin and lots of hair (on the girls and the boys! [Magnetic Boy’s black corset got this writer through puberty!]) Horde members married, had children, yet still kept the Lad/ Lass, Boy/ Girl honorifics in their code names. (With the exception of the infamous “Adult Horde” story that appeared way back in PASSIVE COMICS #354-355) Horde fans did the math -- there had been 14 Horde Leaders with a leader’s term lasting roughly one year. So by that measure, many of the Horde were in their mid-to-late 20’s still calling themselves “Boy” and “Girl” to “honor their inspiration”, Teen Superion. A time may come in the future when the Horde Members update their names to match their adulthood, but there are many who believe an Adult Horde may not have the same magic and innocence -- perhaps that’s true. It certainly wouldn’t have the same impact to see the Adult Horde dealing with the horrors of middle-age, chronic pain and male-pattern baldness -- but maybe a little more adult tone would be okay. Let them have SOME sex -- especially Smartiak 6, doesn’t a computer deserve a little love?
  5. Yup. That’s all there is. SAUL BENNETT and TWINK are mine. PRIAPUS is tattcub’s contribution to this universe! Enjoy!
  6. 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.
  7. I only ask that there be no resolution to the mick/ Tino plotline. I’m working on that chapter myself. Thanks!
  8. How I'm loving the development of this story, a wonderful new vein from my "WHY YOU SHOULDN'T TRUST SAUL BENNETT". I want to thank you for being so respectful of my work in your approach to this piece. I'm anxious to see where it goes!
  9. WHY YOU SHOULDN’T TRUST SAUL BENNETT By absman420 “I’m home!!!!” “Tino!’ called the bigger man, opening his arms and smiling wide. The little bodybuilder jumped into his embrace.. “Daddy!” he called his husband, lovingly. They kissed -- and the bigger man could already feel the little bodybuilder’s erection pressing into him. “I’ve missed you so much!” “You’ve only been gone a week, boy.” They kissed anyway. “I know,” little Tino said. “I wanna fuck so bad.” The bigger man smiled coyly. “Horny little Tino,” he said, rubbing the back of his husband’s head while he squeezed his ass. “You wanna fuck first, or get settled?” Tino pulled away from the kissing, looking his man in the face. “Fuck,” he said, smiling. “I want to fuck. But I want to give you your present first.” The bigger man flicked his eyebrows. “Something kinky, I hope?” he asked. “You got another hot boy stashed in your bag?” “Ha!” the little bodybuilder said. “I’m sharing you with no one today. I need that big porn-star cock all to myself!” He broke their hug after a quick peck on the lips and turned to his bags. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” For New York, for the Upper West Side, it was a spacious apartment, but Tino missed LA -- he missed the weather and his friends -- and he secretly wondered how long his hubby would keep them secluded here? They hadn’t had to move to the other side of the country because his husband didn’t want to be a porn star anymore. No matter where they went, his man was always gonna be Big Mick Masterman, whose dick was legend. Nearly eleven inches when completely hard -- Big Mick would joke about feeling light-headed when it was at its max -- his dick was so large, it would’ve looked out-of-proportion if Mick hadn’t been so big himself. Not a bodybuilder like Tino -- all cuts and aesthetics and shiny hardness -- Mick was a beast of a man, thick and strong and exuding the cocky power of the well-hung Alpha. Was he past his prime? Probably by just a hair, depending on what you considered “prime”. He’d done hundreds of movies, thousands of scenes, countless guest appearances, but no matter how good it’s been, biology is biology -- once your dick stops working, you don’t work in porn. Nobody wants a limp-dicked daddy. And Big Mick Masterman was no bottom. Since turning 50, his dick stopped behaving for him the way it did twenty years ago, when even testosterone on the breeze would get him hard. In truth, it wasn’t just his dick, his whole body was betraying him, turning into an old man right in front of him -- sagging, softening -- but for a man who’d built a whole career out of his amazing dong, Big Mick’s focus was always his cock. Once Tino dug out the little box he’d buried in his suitcase, he found Big Mick prepping the Tri-Mix vial he’d gotten out of the fridge. Tino smiled -- he’d be glad when Mick got rid of that shit. Injecting your cock to get hard….? Tino thought. Yuck! “So tell me about LA,” Mick said, pulling an insulin syringe from the drawer, using it to point to Tino’s box. “Is that my present?” “Hold your horses,” Tino said, putting the small cardboard box on the opposite counter. “I have a story.” Mick smiled slightly. “Of course you do.” Tino pursed his lips at the bigger man. He took a big breath and said, as if confessing, “So… while I was out there, I ran into Saul Bennett...” “Oh, Jesus,” Mick groaned, dropping the insulin syringe on the counter. “You wanna kill ANY chance of me getting hard, right?” “Stop it,” Tino chided. “It was a nice conversation. It wasn’t an easy decision for him…” But Big Mick was already annoyed. “Oh, come on, Tino!” he said, a touch of anger. “He cancelled my contract. I was one of the biggest names in the fucking business and he cancelled my contract because I had ED. I mean, what the fuck? He fuckin’ ruined my career, Tino!” Tino was still calm. “He feels really bad, Mick.” “Yeah, I bet! Do you know how much money he fucking lost when he cut me? Let me tell you something: Saul doesn’t feel bad because of what he did to my self-esteem, or my reputation, or my fucking life! He feels bad because he lost revenue. Saul Bennett gives a shit about nothing but money, Tino. I thought you knew that.” Tino sighed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I should’ve just given this to you without explanation.” He handed the small, cardboard box to Big Mick, who took it humorlessly. “This is from Saul?” Mick asked. “He feels really bad, Mick.” There was a moment when Tino was unsure if Mick would throw it, crush it, or open it -- frankly, there was a moment when Mick was unsure, too -- ultimately, Mick tore the little sticker keeping the lid closed and opened it up. Two little vials held by styrofoam cushioning, one contained pink liquid, the other blue. “What is it?” Mick asked. Tino had a devious smile. “It’s a little something-something so you won’t need THAT,” he said, pointing to the Tri-Mix and the syringe. “Mixed by one of Saul’s little… alchemist friends. Apparently, it’s the latest thing to keep porn-stars on the working roster.” Mick looked at him suspiciously. “Really?” he asked, softening. Tino shrugged. “No harm in trying.” Mick looked at the box and considered it for all of five seconds -- even his anger at Saul paled next to his desire for a good erection. “So what do I do?” Smiling, Tino stepped over to him and pulled the vials from the box. He handed the blue one to Mick. “One for you,” he said, keeping the pink one, “and one for me.” “Really?” Mick chuckled. “Blue and pink?” Tino smiled, pursing his lips at Mick. “Wanna trade?” he asked. “Why? Will the pink one turn me into a girl?” “Haha,” Tino said. “No, the pink one is gonna make me able to take what the blue one is gonna do to you!” He unscrewed the cap and quickly drank his down, making a face at the taste. “He said it takes about twenty minutes to hit -- i’m gonna clean up real quick. Cum join me when you’re ready.” And with that, Tino slunk to the bathroom. Big Mick couldn’t help but look at Tino’s muscular ass as the boy exited, He was lucky Tino’d stayed with him through the whole ED thing -- a hot number like him could have anybody. The least Mick could do was indulge a trial solution -- no matter that it had been provided by fucking Saul Bennett. With that, he unscrewed the cap and drank the contents of the vial -- no taste, maybe it was a placebo. Following Tino to the bedroom, he kept the Tri-Mix handy, He was already horny -- Tino had been gone a whole week, after all, and Big Mick wasn’t a big masturbator. It took a lot of work to get an eleven-inch cock hard -- it took even more lately -- he didn’t like to waste it on nothing. Stripping his shirt off, he could hear Tino in the shower, so he knew he had enough time to get his cockring and jockstrap on. Looking at his bulky self in the mirror, he flexed a most-muscular and pinched the barbells in his pierced nipples. Whoa! -- okay, THAT was electric -- a freaking WAVE of horny washing over him. Damn, even his dick was coming to life. He stripped off his jeans and his boxer briefs and stretched a hard rubber cockring around his juicy balls -- it was difficult enough to get his huge dick through the ring when it was soft, but it was thickening up fast, further delighting Mick, though he clumsily succeeded. His dick hung there at a slight angle, looking untroubled and confident. Maybe he wasn’t in the best shape anymore, but damn if his dick didn’t make up for it. He slipped on his NASTY PIG quilted leather jock, which made him look even bigger. Flopping in the big leather recliner across from the bed, he continued playing with his nipples as he waited for Tino. It wasn’t long before he heard the shower turn off. Just in time, as far as Mick was concerned -- he was getting damn horny -- frankly, he was starting not to care if the boy was clean at all. Mick was ready for some action. And he was starting to feel confident that his dick was ready, too. Tino slipped into the room, shiny and smooth, a tiny towel wrapped around his tiny hips. Usually short bodybuilders had thick waists, but Tino’s was so small and lean that it made his ass look gigantic by comparison -- when he was in a playful mood, he joked that he should become an underwear model or a professional stripper. Slyly smiling, he stood before Big Mick’s chair and posed for him, flexing his beautiful body. “Daddy want a lap dance?” he asked, hips swaying. Tino stepped up into the leather recliner, feet on either side of Mick’s hips -- the chair was sturdy enough, they’d proved it before -- the little towel he wore around his waist fell away, revealing the soft white thong he wore beneath, his cute little balls bouncing with each thrust. “Very nice, boy,” Big Mick mumbled, stroking the boy’s rock hard quads. “Lemme see that ass.” The boy turned to imaginary music, dancing like his hips were doing the seduction. For such massive legs, his ass was still round and tight, like he was still the college wrestler he’d been when the two had met, so many years ago. Tino squatted slightly and twerked in Mick’s face, shaking his muscular glutes, the strap of his thong visible as it ran down the crack of his ass. It was beautiful. Mick reached between Tino’s legs and grabbed the boy’s package, like his hand was a cockring -- he shoved his face between the halves of Tino’s ass, immediately tasting the boy’s hot hole -- clean, but with a slight hint of soap. Tino moaned immediately. “Yeah, big daddy,” he growled as Mick shoved his tongue in. God damn that man loved ass. His rough facial hair teased Tino’s hole. Mick didn’t realize how horny he was. Fuck, he wanted this boy -- wanted to dominate him and own him. He felt like a fucking teenager who’d never tasted a man before. The strap from the thong was getting in his way, but he could feel Tino’s cock getting hard in the pouch -- why couldn’t the boy like jockstraps, like normal people? So much easier to eat his ass. He looked good in anything -- or out of anything. Big Mick’s big dick thickened in his own pouch. He took his free hand off his nipple and reached down to help himself along. His cock filled his hand and was growing fast. He would’ve commented about it if his mouth hadn’t been full -- and if he hadn’t been so damn horny. “Fuck, boy,” he said, licking Tino’s hole, “suck my cock. I need your hot mouth.” “Oh yeah, Daddy,” he moaned, stepping down from the chair, kneeling his big bod between Mick’s outstretched legs. When the little bodybuilder saw Mick’s half-hard cock, growing there in Mick’s grip, he happily replaced Mick’s hand with his, and smiled slyly as he took the bigger man’s cock in his mouth. Warm and wet -- what a mouth -- Mick could feel himself hardening. He rolled his head back and shut his eyes, enjoying the sensation of his growing erection -- his hard-on was delighting him almost as much as the blow job. Was this the effects of Saul Bennett’s little potion? He couldn’t even get mad at Saul, the mother-fucker, that’s how good he felt -- like a man. Like a fucking man. Like a fucking man who hadn’t shot his fucking load in a week. His balls felt as full as his cock. He felt Tino’s hands holding them and tickling the back of his sac -- even his balls felt bigger. Huge fucking load. Suddenly, he realized his cock was rock hard -- a teen-aged erection -- a throbbing, needful, helpless kind of erection. Familiar and nearly forgotten -- an old friend found alive -- and with it came confidence, a confidence Mick had almost forgotten, as if it were even bigger -- if that were possible for a nearly-eleven-inch cock -- or had it been that long that it had BEEN this hard? He had to fuck. God damn, he had to fuck. He had to take this rock-hard cock and fuck with it. So fucking horny. He stood then, causing Tino to lose his balance and fall back on his butt. Mick grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed the little bodybuilder toward the bed. Tino allowed himself to be taken, loving the confidence his husband exuded -- it was like the old days. On his back, his legs open, he could feel Mick’s cock press against his hole -- throbbing, alive, it wasn’t the product of injectable tri-mix, it was a genuine, sexually-stimulated erection, and it was eager to make up for lost time. The cock may have even felt bigger as it entered Tino’s ass, or maybe it had been so long that Tino had forgotten the full extent of Big Mick Masterman -- he was glad for the reminder. Mick didn’t waste any time. Standing beside the bed, he sank balls-deep in Tino’s hole, putting the entirety of his eleven-inch cock into the little bodybuilder in a single thrust.. Tino gasped. “Holy shit, a little warm up…” But Mick ignored him. He was muttering, “Need this so bad, fuck,” as he slowly withdrew his meat, then slammed it home again. “Fuck…” “Damn, honey....” But if Mick was listening, Tino couldn’t tell -- his eyes were kind of far-away, his mouth slightly open, a corner turned up in pleasure. Mick was lost in that pleasure, the resurgence of his alpha station. It was like the old days, back in his twenties, when the world was one big hole and Mick ached to fuck it hard -- not like it had been for the last year when life was fucking him. He fucked Tino like he’d suddenly remembered how to -- he was a battering ram. He was a porn star again. It didn’t surprise either of them that he’d orgasmed as quickly as he did -- not that that really slowed him down. He barely missed a beat and kept on pounding toward number two, using his cum as lube -- it leaked out of Tino’s hole. Tino would pass out around the fifth, so he wasn’t sure where it ended -- all he knew was that hours later when he lost consciousness (from exhaustion), Big Mick was still fucking him. What the hell had Saul Bennett given him? ******************************************************* Tino woke to the light of dawn, a beam of sunshine across his face. He was on his side, spooned by Mick -- and the first thing he realized was that Mick was still inside him, that huge cock still hard, filling him past the point of comfort. Even in his sleep, Mick gently thrust in and out, like he was dreaming of a fuck. Tino was afraid to wake him. The relentless, non-stop pounding Mick had given his ass last night was enough -- he couldn’t imagine it starting again. Slowly, gently, Tino slid off Mick’s cock, his hole so defeated that there wasn’t even a “pop” when the gargantuan head came out. Mick’s cock had felt huge inside him -- bigger than Tino had remembered it, even when last it had been fully hard, years ago before last night. As Tino quietly sat up on the edge of the bed, the movement seemed to disturb Mick -- his breathing changed slightly. They’d been together long enough that Tino knew even the most subtle change in Mick when asleep. He waited a moment until he heard Mick sink back deeply, then he stood, waiting to see if that changed anything, then he took a step and turned around, just enough to glance at his man. The first thing to catch his eye was Mick’s cock -- how could it not? -- it was gigantic! Truly gigantic, as the head of it slapped the very bottom of his abs with every dreamy thrust Mick took, leaving a little trail of cum between the slit and his core. Mick’s cock had never been THIS big -- not even in his prime! Mick’s cock measured out at just over 11-inches when fully hard, formidable on its own -- the cock he had now was well over a foot long, possibly as long as fourteen inches… and substantially thicker. How on earth could Tino have taken that? It wasn’t just the cock, though the cock held his attention -- that cock would hold ANY man’s attention, gay or straight -- it was beyond possible. The stuff of fantasy. But it wasn’t just his cock -- no, it was his balls, too. Tino had never seen balls so big on any man, except maybe those guys who have injections, or implants or whatever. Because of his heavy steroid cycles, Mick’s gonads had all but atrophied, shrunken well smaller than average -- he joked that it made his cock look bigger by comparison. The balls he had now were easily in proportion with his over-sized cock, easily as big as lemons, maybe avocados. The weight of them gently pulled on the base of that big dick, causing it to pulse even more. And then Tino widened his focus and saw Mick in his entirety. It wasn’t just his cock and his balls -- it was all of him! Mick was… Mick was… Mick was massive. Diesel. Tino had been the bodybuilder -- Tino had been the competitor -- Mick was the proud daddy who watched from the side, proud of his boy, but not looking for the attention himself. He had his own audience, and he didn’t think the two should mix. Mick had loved being a porn-star -- and he joked that he had a better build for that, anyway. (Imagine Mick’s dick in posers!) Mick had always had a bulky, muscular thing going on, big and thick, but not ripped -- no perfect abs for Big Mick Masterman. No need. Though to Tino’s disappointment, Mick had been going soft lately. THIS Mick, the Mick in their bed, was a very different man. This Mick was a bodybuilder -- this Mick could’ve just stepped off the competition stage -- this Mick was muscular and ripped, heavily-veined and pumped. The only thing ruining the illusion was the body hair -- Mick had always been hirsute (his back alone kept his waxer employed full-time) -- but this morning, Mick was covered with a layer of rough, short hair -- his shoulders, his arms, everything. The stubble on his face was heavy, like he could grow a beard in a day. Was his brow a little thicker, as well? He looked like he’d overdosed on testosterone, like he was tripping on some crazy hormone sauce… Saul! THAT SHIT SAUL HAD GIVEN THEM! Is that what had done this? It HAD to have been! Horrified, Tino quickly waddled his way to the bathroom, grabbing his phone off the dresser on the way past. The first thing he did was examine himself in the mirror -- if Saul’s formula had done that to Mick, what had the stuff he’d taken done to HIM? And the answer was… nothing that he could see. What had Saul said? He’d said the pink vial would make Tino able to take what the blue vial would do to Mick. The horror of that sunk in, which caused him to relax just enough that the cum that had been inside him started to leak down his muscular thigh. Fuck... Sitting on the toilet, easily a gallon of Mick’s cum rushed out of him, wetly filling the bowl with its salty scent. Why wasn’t he sore? Exhausted, yes, but not sore. What had that shit done? He said, “Call Saul Bennett” into his phone, quietly, though he was pretty sure Mick couldn’t hear him with the bathroom door closed. It took the phone a few seconds to connect -- longer for Saul to pick up. “It’s five o’clock in the morning, Tino,” Bennett mumbled from his end. “Why the fuck you calling me at five o’clock in the fucking morning?” “What was in that stuff, Saul?” Tino said, angrily. “What the fuck did you give him?” A sleepy laugh over the line, an evil chuckle. “I guess you guys used my gift,” he said. “What’d you think, Tino? Bet you haven’t got nailed like that in a while.” “Fuck you, Saul.” Saul laughed. “I think you got all the fucking, Tino. How’d you get away from him long enough to call me? He’s not fucking anybody else right now, is he?” “No!” Tino said in a whisper louder than he’d wanted. “He passed out sometime during the night and I’m sitting here in the bathroom emptying myself out! What the fuck, Saul?” “Okay. You definitely don’t want him fucking anybody else.” “Yeah, I’ll try to stop him. You should see him, Saul! He’s fucking HUGE! Did you know that would happen, Saul? Did you know? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” “I’m telling you now, don’t let him fuck anybody else.” Tino sighed (and the final bit of cum dripped out of him). “Why don’t you want him fucking anybody else? Why do you keep saying that, Saul? What aren’t you telling me?” There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone that Tino was about ready to interrupt when Saul spoke. “Let’s just say… the stuff I gave him? Well… it’s communicable.” “What?” “It means other people can catch it…” “I know what ‘communicable’ means, Saul,” Tino sighed again, his patience nearly gone. “What did you fucking give him?” Saul chuckled again -- the bastard. He said, “I’m giving him his career back, Tino.” A beat of silence where Tino didn’t respond, so Saul continued. “Tino, what the fuck good is a total top who can’t get hard -- can’t even get hard with an injectable, you know? I mean, he totally fucked his own head! I had to give him some time off.” “‘Time off’,” Tino mocked. “You know that ‘time off’ fucking destroyed him, right? You act like it was some kind of sabbatical and you were going to welcome him back! He was done -- except for a few guest appearances, his career was all but over! Once word got out that he was given some ‘time off’ because of ED, nobody would even ‘like’ his social-media posts!” Saul Bennett sighed. “Look… I’m sorry for that. It took my guys at the lab longer to come up with a solution that I thought. But here we are, Tino! And if I understand you correctly, the problem’s solved, right? Big Mick Masterman gets a triumphant return AND a major series! It’s gonna be awesome! I got HUGE plans for Mick, Tino -- we’re gonna make a fucking fortune!” Tino sighed again, more impatiently than before. “What did you fucking do to him, Saul?” “Turned him back into a top,” Saul said, matter-of-factly. “Cranked up the hormones and turned him into a hyper-masculine super-stud. How big is he, Tino? I bet he’s fucking huge!” “This is crazy,” Tino said to himself. As he stood, he realized he hadn’t cleaned himself up completely -- Big Mick’s cum still ran down his leg. He grabbed a hand-towel and started wiping himself. He wanted to hop in the shower, but he didn’t dare wake Mick -- not until he knew what was going on. “And what did you mean when you said he was communicable?” There was a pause, again long enough that Tino almost repeated himself, when Saul confessed, “So there’s a… side effect of the compound. If he fucks somebody who hasn’t had the antidote, they… also transform into a hyper-masculine super-top, just like him. Think of it, Tino,” Saul continued, and Tino swore he was drooling, “It’s a series. Big Mick fucks some fem little twink and transforms him into another out-of-control, unstoppable muscle-top -- then we follow the fun as they transform all the major bottom boys from all the other major studios. I’m calling it ‘Fuck Zombies -- The Series!’ It’s gonna be huge, Tino -- HUGE!” Tino was nearly speechless. “But he fucked ME,” he whispered. “Why didn’t that happen to me?” A small snort. “Cause you took the antidote, Tino. I told you, the pink vial made you able to take anything the blue vial did to your husband. It’s not just that you can’t catch the virus,” Saul explained, “but physically, it made you able to take the pounding one of these guys can give you and not get your ass torn apart. You’re my Ace in the Hole, Tino -- so to speak.” “You’re crazy…” Saul Bennett’s chuckle was nothing short of evil -- super-villain evil -- he was fucking PROUD of what he’d done! “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Tino,” he said, in a patronizing tone he hadn’t had before, “I need you to get him to me here in LA -- that’s your job. Well, your job is REALLY to get him here without him fucking anybody along the way. We wouldn’t want a pandemic to start, would we? You get him to me, we film this series -- ten films, twelve on the outside -- and then I’ll release him to you, good as new!” Tino was horrified. He stood, shouting, “You monster!” into the phone. “You fucking MONSTER!” And then he heard a sound from the bedroom -- fuck, he’d been too loud! He’d woken Mick. “Oh, fuck!” he whispered. “What’s going on, Tino?” “I woke him up.” A sound then, from the bedroom. “Fu-u-u-u-uck…” -- a moan -- “Fuck YEAH!” “Oh, fuck,” Tino said, panicking. “What do I do? What do I do?” Saul said, “Turn the camera on, for fuck’s sake. I wanna see this!” Tino could hear Mick in the bedroom, trudging around, his breathing heavy, his voice rough. “Fuck yes! Oh… oh, fuck… Fuck YEAH!!!!” And then the unmistakable sounds of Mick having an orgasm -- it went on and on, as Tino’s panic-level rose. And then he was pounding on the bathroom door, a dull, repetitive thud. Tino got the camera on just as Mick broke the door down, so he and Saul saw the same thing. Big Mick stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the morning light behind him, his new mass making him even bigger than Tino expected -- he was truly a monster, a diesel freak. Muscular, hairy, radiating power -- and then the unbelievable cock that stood there, rock hard, dripping freely, throbbing along with Mick’s heartbeat. A muscle-morph made real. Tino’s first thought upon seeing Mick’s cock? “I’m able to TAKE that?” Saul’s first thought upon seeing Mick’s cock? Very different -- he saw dollar signs. He began to record the call. Mick made eye-contact with Tino and growled -- he grabbed his dick -- slowly, a predator, he advanced. “Fuck,” he muttered, crazed, incapable of rational thought. “Gotta fuck…” Tino held his hands in front of him (giving Saul a front row seat). “Mick,” Tino pleaded. “Mick, please... listen to me…” And then Mick charged, causing Tino to drop the phone as he protected himself. The phone clattered to the floor and flipped -- and Saul ended up with an up-shot of the action, seeing the whole scene from below. It wasn’t the worst porn-angle in the world. Mick threw Tino over the counter and just started fucking him -- using his own cum as lube, he somehow managed to push his freakish thing into Tino’s over-worked hole. Flexing for himself in the mirror above the sink while he fucked, turned-on by his own incredible physique, he drooled like an animal. Tino had little choice but to take it -- even with Tino’s impressive size, he was no match for the monster his husband had become. All he could do was take it -- fortunately, Saul Bennett had made him able to take it. Mick’s cock was SO big… he hated that he liked it so much. “Saul?” Tino called as Mick ravaged him, between Mick’s powerful thrusts. “Saul, are you still there?” Mick suddenly fucked him harder, angrily. “Fuck Saul…” the beast muttered. From the floor, he could hear Saul’s voice. “I’m here, Tino -- he’s spectacular! You gotta get him to me, Tino. That’s’ all you gotta do. Get him to me. Now, lift your leg a little, you’re blocking my view of his cock.” How the fuck was Tino supposed to get Mick all the way across country to LA? It was impossible. Mick began long-dicking his hole, pulling his fourteen-inch shaft nearly all the way out before slamming it all the way back in to the root. Over and over again -- Tino was nearly delirious, ecstacy and horror mixed together. Fuck. Fuck you, Saul Bennett, he thought, while being fucked. How the fuck am I gonna do this? Between orgasms, Tino started to plot. AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD: Hey, all -- absman420 here again! Feels like a cliff-hanger, doesn’t it? I mean, there’s easily a chapter (maybe two) in Tino getting Big Mick to LA -- plane? Train? Auto? -- and then, there’s as many chapters as one could imagine as Mick turns industry twink bottoms to Fuck Zombie Super-Tops before Tino does (or doesn’t) get Saul to keep his deal and release Mick from his “contract” (haha) Could be quite a series. One I don’t want to write. That said, if anybody DOES want to contribute a chapter, please feel free to add one on! I’m very cool with the IDEA of this being a series, I just don’t have the time to do it justice myself. I only ask that you reference this story -- and me -- when you submit something. Otherwise, go to town! Tattcub has already written a story thread and posted it on this forum ("Priapus Pictures") and he inspired me to write a chapter myself (the upcoming "Twink Number Twelve").
  10. I imagined KING REX as a comic book while writing it. I think one chapter opens as a comic book plot.
  11. As an absman myself, I gotta say, I loved this story. Well done!
  12. I can't help but love this! It brings such a smile to my face. The adaptation of my original story is brilliant and works nicely in comic book form. As a big comic-book geek myself -- witness my "KING REX" and "NEW SUPERMEN" -- who spent most of his early teenage years getting off to hyper-muscular men in spandex, this work of art is a real work of art!
  13. Both of your comments support my point: the scarcity of that kind of imagery in our growing up. Now — thank you, internet — there’s tons of sites and artists and domains, but back in the day it was all few and far between. I wonder how different it would be to grow up today? How would my sexual personality be different?
  14. Thanks for commenting — glad you liked it. I have no further plans to continue this story. I’m curious HOW I’d continue it? All that’s left is endless sex between the hottest hypermasculine men in the art world. That’s better left to the imagination. Hoe would you suggest it continues?
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