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About musclegin30

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    10+ Posts


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  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
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  • What are your interests?
    Stories, muscle growth, cooking
  • What are your stats?
    6' 3", 190 lbs ( profile pic is not me)
  • What are you seeking?
    my ideal physique
  • What are your dream stats?
    6' 3'', 230 lbs
  • Favorite Stories
    Anything with muscle growth and well written characters
  • Favorite Bodybuilders
    Uzoma Obilor, Aleksei Lesukov, Robin Strand, Morgan Aste, Bob Paris, Big Ramy, and many others
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    muscle worship, muscle growth, roid guts, domination, size differences, overeating for size

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  1. Thank you dredlifter. "Sex" was very enjoyable to write. Glad you liked it. I'm trying to write more.
  2. Domination It was the day of the master’s treat… Wayne pulled his car into the driveway of his orange-brick ranch style home. He grabbed the three bags of groceries from the trunk into his thin arms and walked to the door, but before he could get his keys out, the door swung open. Connor, the man who shared Wayne’s bed, filled the doorway with his considerable bulk. Connor was 6 ft 3 in, a full 8 inches taller than Wayne, and weighed an impressive 330 pounds of roided beef. He wasn’t competition lean, but you could still make out the shape of his abs beneath his furry midsection. Wayne liked the little fat Connor had on him. It only served to make him look more masculine and powerful, along with his dark beard and carpet of dense body hair. Wayne moved to enter he house, but Connor held up a wide hand, halting him. Everything on him was wide from his thick jaw and bull neck to his quads that made him waddle on his big size-14 feet. “You need to be cleaned before coming in,” Connor said. His voice was deep and commanding. “Seriously?” Wayne said, surprised. “Seriously, what?” “Seriously, master?” Wayne smiled. He must remember to show due respect. “Yes, I’m serious,” Connor said, “With the coronavirus all over out there, I’m not taking any chances. You will be sterilized. Honestly, you shouldn’t have even gone out.” “You needed food master,” Wayne said. “I have to keep you well fed so you can keep growing.” “True,” Conner replied, looking down at his bulging physique, pushing the fabric of his white tee to its limits, He flexed his triceps and squeezed his pecs. “I must keep growing.” When Wayne first met Connor 3 years ago, he had only weighed 180 pounds. But with Wayne’s support, Connor had grown consistently, turning into a paragon of masculinity, a beautiful muscle bull, whose life was devoted to the endless pursuit of more and more size. “Put the food down,” Connor commanded. “And strip down to your underwear.” Wayne looked around the neighborhood. “Right here, master, on the front lawn?” “Did I stutter, little man?” Wayne sat the groceries down and began taking off his plaid button-down shirt and brown chinos. When he was down to his tighty whities, Connor tossed him a laundry bag to put his clothes in. Wayne began to undo the oversized black leather collar he wore around his neck, a sign of submission, and of ownership. “No!” Conner boomed, wagging his meaty finger. “That stays on boy. Now take this disinfectant soap and go lather up in front of the garage.” Connor handed him a bottle of Hebiclens. Wayne did as he had been bid, while Connor watched from a distance of 15 feet, holding the garden hose in his meaty hands. When he was covered in the disinfectant, Connor hit him with a torrent of cold water. “Rub down good!” Connor yelled. Wayne rubbed his pale, thin body all over, until Connor told him he was satisfied and turned the hose off. Wayne stood, dripping, in the driveway waiting for permission to go inside. “I have a towel laid out in the foyer,” Connor said. “Go in, dry yourself, and then fix me a meal. It’s been two hours since my last feeding.” “Yes master. Right away master.” Wayne walked across the grass and when he was half way to the door Connor called out. “Speed it up tiny! I’m fucking starving!” Then the big man laughed as Wayne nearly tripped running inside. Connor went into the living room to watch TV. Wayne went directly to the kitchen, not bothering to go upstairs and put on new clothes. He couldn’t keep Connor waiting long, and besides his damp underwear would be dry in no time from the heat of the stove. Wayne already had brown rice prepared. He removed two chicken breasts from the fridge and a head of broccoli. He split the chicken breasts so they would could faster and seasoned them with Connor’s favorite Cajun spice mix. The broccoli, he steamed, and covered in a copious amount of melted cheese. Connor took all his vegetables with cheese, as much for the extra calories as for the taste. When he was finished cooking, and Connor’s immense meal was spread across two plates on the kitchen table, Wayne went into the living room. He found Connor shirtless with his thick arms spread across the back of the couch. His bare feet were up on the coffee table, and a lit cigar was hanging from the side of his mouth sending a halo of smoke up and around his head. “Your mid-morning meal is ready master.” “About time. I was just about to go in there.” Connor sat the cigar into an ash tray and rose from his seat. His arms were pushed out at 45-degree angles by his lats. Wayne watched him swagger and sway as he walked into the kitchen, wondering how much more muscle he could possibly squeeze on that frame and still be able to move at all. Connor had long ago lost the ability to scratch his own back. What was next? Would he lose the ability to wipe his own ass? The thought made Wayne’s cock spring to attention. Despite the fact that Wayne hadn’t been blessed with a large physique. He was blessed with an above average cock. Connor took notice. “Thinking about something sexy?” Connor asked, as his sat down to the table and picked up his fork, which looked comically small in his hand. “I’m thinking about you growing, master.” “Ah yes,” Connor said with a mouth full of chicken. “A thought that could make any cock hard.” He flexed his left bicep, squeezing it hard, making the peak rise higher than his deltoid. “23 Fucking inches and growing. How big are yours, tiny?” “13 inches master.” “Next year I’ll have mine twice that, 26 fucking inches. Would you like that?” “Very much so, master.” “Yeah, of course you would.” Connor reached out and grabbed Wayne by the waist band of his underwear and pulled him close. He spit in his calloused hand and began stroking Wayne’s cock, while he ate with the other hand. “You’re so lucky to be living with a muscle god,” Connor said. “Isn’t that right?” “Yes, master,” Wayne said, a tremble of pleasure in his voice. “You can’t get enough of these muscles, can you?” Connor asked, with a mouth full of rice. He was stroking faster now. “No, master. I can’t” An ecstasy was rising in him. Wayne was close to orgasming. “You want to come all over this hot body, don’t you? Watch your jizz drip down the deep crevice between my pecs? You want release?” “Yes, Master!” his balls churned, ready to explode. “Well you can’t.” Connor stopped suddenly. “Not while I’m eating you little perve.” He grinned. “But you will cum soon.” How cruel, to bring him to the edge like that, only to let him down. Wayne didn’t let his disappointment show, however. Cruel games were the prerogative of any god, muscle gods included. He watched in silence as Connor finished his meal, then took the dishes away and washed them. Connor sat at the table, leaning back in the chair, stroking his distended stomach. He let out a belch like the rumble of thunder. “I’ll be in the garage, lifting,” Connor said, finally. “There’s laundry for you to do, and make sure my mass gainer shake is ready in an hour. Also, don’t get dressed. I like you in your underwear. Seeing you without clothes reminds me how much of a superior specimen I am.” He laughed, cockily. “Yes master. Whatever pleases you.” Wayne listened to Connors guttural grunts and the sounds of metal plates clanking as he did the laundry. A sweet music. He had just gotten the clothes into the dryer when it was time to make Connor’s shake. He darted from the laundry room to the kitchen and began mixing the concoction: 2 frozen bananas, 3 cups of milk, a scoop of weigh protein, a scoop of ON Serious Mass, and a cup of ground oatmeal. When he turned around, Connor stood in the door frame, pumped and sweaty. He had clearly worked upper body. His chest, arms and shoulders looked twice their usual size with bluish veins visible through the skin. The hair on his chest was matted down and curly from the perspiration. Wayne handed him the blender and Connor chugged the thick liquid, his Adam’s apple bouncing quickly with each gulp. He didn’t stop to take a breath, until the entire shake was in him, clearly in a hurry to get even more nourishment to his ballooning physique. Connor let out a satisfied sigh as he handed the blender back to Wayne. “Nothing like a good pump and a full belly,” he said. “Am I wrong?” “You’re never wrong, master.” Wayne smiled. “You know what else is feels good,” Connor said. “Dominating a weaker man.” Wayne had only just put the blender in the sink when he felt his body being pulled away from the sink. Connor had lifted him from the ground and held him up by the waste. His feet dangled 2-feet from the ground. “I’m going to dominate you ‘til you jizz yourself,” Connor said. He carried Wayne to the living room as if his 135-lb bodyweight was nothing at all, and tossed him on the couch.” “Get up little man and punch me. These muscles need a massage.” Wayne wasn’t sure what to do. He looked up in shock. Hit him? He wasn’t expecting that. “Hit me!” Connor boomed. Wayne struck him in the chest. “Again!” Wayne struck him in the stomach. “Harder, you fucking weakling!” Connor was tensing his whole body. Wayne punch him with all his strength in the stomach and recoiled, clutching his fist in pain. “Wow, is that the best you can do?” Connor said. “Here, let me show you how to hit.” He made a fist and drew it back. Wayne’s life flashed before his eyes as the huge fist came barreling toward him. He winced, but it stopped just shy of striking him. Connor was laughing. “Aww, don’t worry little guy,” He said in a baby voice. “I wouldn’t really hit. I might kill you and then who would take care of me?” Suddenly Connor grabbed Wayne’s neck with one hand, and grabbed his crotch with the other, then lifted Wayne off the ground. He lifted mostly from the crotch (which by now had grown hard), and used the neck to steady him. In a second Wayne was completely upside down. Connor had spun him in midair, and then let him fall on his side onto the couch. “Holy shit.” Wayne mumbled. That was a new move. Without wasting a second, Connor was on top of him, all 330 pounds of beefy muscle man were weighing him down, constricting him. Wayne’s cock grew harder and harder, pushing against Connor’s skin, poking him like a dagger. “How easy it would be to crush you right now,” Connor said, giving an evil grin. “like crushing a little bug. Isn’t that right?” Wayne could hardly breath. He forced out a “Yes, master.” “I can hardly hear you. Are you having trouble breathing, little man? Wayne nodded. Connor got up. “Let me give you some air. Sometimes I forget how much I weigh.” Wayne stood up. “Did I tell you to stand up?” “Sorry, master.” He sat back down. “Too late! You need punishing.” Connor grabbled Wayne and bought the little man to his feet then wrapped his burly arms around him in a bear hug. He liflted Wayne from the ground and began to squeeze. Feeling Connors muscles pressing into his body like that, feeling so helpless and at his complete mercy sent his cock to new heights of hardness. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t breathe. Wayne could feel Connor’s own rod bulging through his sweatpants and pressing into his ass cheeks. “Should I break you in two?” “No, please don’t master.” Connor released him from the bear hug, but immediately wrapped his harm around Wayne’s neck and put him in a head lock. He bought Wayne down to his knees and flexed his bicep. The peak dug into Wayne’s neck. “Well, should I snap your neck then?” Connor asked. “No master, but please don’t let go.” “Don’t let go? Ah, I see. You’re about to cum, aren’t you?” Wayne nodded. He had one hand on Connors thigh and another on the horseshoe of his tricep. He could feel the wet spot of precum spreading in his underwear and his cock begin to spasm. The head was sore, the shaft throbbing. Connor pressed his muscular body against wayne and flexed. Wayne felt the crushing might of Connor’s body and it was the final push his orgasm needed. He exploded in his underwear, filling them with torrent after torrent of warm sticky jizz. “I love it when my muscles make you cum,” Connor whispered into Wayne’s ear. “Now it’s my turn.” Wayne pulled his wet underwear down to his knees and leaned forward on the living room carpet. He had his ass up, presented, ready and waiting for penetration. Connor was on his knees as well. He pulled down his sweats and unleashed the thick monster he was packing. If Wayne was just above average, Connor’s 9-inch hose made average look diminutive. Connor spread Wayne’s cheeks and spit into his hole. He grabbed Wayne’s hair and pulled his head pack before plunging into his ass with all 9-inches of his hard cock. It was thick and stretched Wayne to the limits, as he plowed into him, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, faster and faster. Wayne’s body quaked with each forceful thrust. His eyes watered. He was riding that fine line between pleasure and pain. Then he felt Connor’s warm jizz fill him. The muscle man let out a loud moan as he came again and again inside Wayne. When he was finished, he pulled out, and Wayne slumped to the floor, exhausted, but in ecstasy, Connor’s warm spunk leaking from his ass. “I like your tight ass little man,” Connor said. He was standing now, looking down at Wayne. He seemed like a giant. “And I like everything about you, master.” “It’s time to make your master grow.” Connor grabbed Wayne’s by the collar and raised him up. “Go get my roids. I’m ready for an injection.” Wayne did so. When he returned Connor was leaning of the edge of the couch. His huge glutes were on full display. Wayne got to work quickly preparing the dose and sterilizing the injection site. Then he plunged the needle into Connor’s ass. “Connor pulled his sweats up and turned around. “I’m going up to take a nap. I’ll be really hungry when I wake up so have a big dinner ready.” “Of course, master.” “Good boy.” Connor slapped him hard on the ass and squeezed. Wayne took the clothes out of the dryer, folded them, and then set about preparing Connor’s dinner. He would prepare a large t-bone steak, two twice backed potatoes, and some string beans with parmesan cheese. While Connor’s food was cooking, he ate his own modest dinner of tuna salad on rye. Just as he sat the food on the table, he heard Connor’s heavy footfalls coming down the stairs. Connor entered the kitchen with a case of bed hair, and yawned. He surveyed his meal, enough to feed two people, and nodded in satisfaction. He was finished eating in 10 minutes flat. “When you’re done washing the dishes you can join in me in the living room for some TV. You’ve earned an hour’s rest.” “Thank you master.” Wayne joined Connor on the couch for an episode of Law and Order SVU. He rested his head on Connors hairy chest the whole time. When the show was over Connor pushed his head aside. “Make me another shake, little man.” Wayne crossed his arms. He didn’t move. “Did you hear me?” Connor said, frowning. “I need my evening shake.” “Make it yourself,” Wayne said, glancing across the room at the clock on the wall. It was 9:00 pm. “Oh!” Connor exclaimed and stood. “Sorry, master. I hadn’t realized.” “That’s alright,” Wayne said. “You really got into it. I like that.” “I was good, master?” Connor said, “You enjoyed today?” “You were very good and I did enjoy it.” Wayne took the collar off of his neck and handed it to Connor. The big man put it on, adjusting it to fit his considerably larger neck. Wayne smiled, looking up at his muscle slave. Everything was back to normal now. Wayne loved his yearly treat, the day when Connor got to play master and he got to play slave for 12 hours. The day when he got to be at the mercy of Connor’s muscles and on the receiving end of his cock. It served as a release for Connor as well, allowing the big guy to play the alpha and live out any pent-up fantasies he might have. Once a year was often enough, however. It made the experience of the reversal more enjoyable and gave them both something to look forward too. Also, he knew if he did it too often, Connor might get too used to it and that was a no no. Wayne was master here. It was his house, his money that Connor relied on to grow, and his rules. “Tomorrow, I’ll expect my breakfast at 9:15 am sharp, understood?” Wayne said. “Yes master.” “Lift me.” Wayne commanded. Connor took him in his arms, like a husband would lift his bride. “Now take me to the bathroom and wash me.” “Yes master.” “And later, a foot rub, before bed.” “Of course, master.” Connor gave the best foot rubs. Such strong hands, after all. Wayne rode up the stairs in his slave’s arms, thinking about how big he’d be by the time of next year’s treat day. 400 lbs perhaps. And he knew just how Connor was going to get there. He had heard about a knew supplement he wanted to try. His cousin Scott called it Superpump. He said it worked like magic.
  3. Strength I was staring at the weight bench and dumbbells my father had bought me for Christmas and was immediately reminded of Ronnie Coleman’s famous quote: “Everybody wants to be a bodybuilder, but nobody wants to lift no heavy ass weights.” That was me. I had practically begged my parents for a weight set, but then I got it and used it once in three months. I wanted to be big and strong. No. I needed it. I was the frailest kid in my senior class, but I was just too lazy. After that first and only workout with the weights I was sore for days. I felt like my arms might fall off. Honestly, the shit kind of scared me. The weights were adjustable from 20 to 80 pounds. I had them set to 25 and even that was a struggle. I was just glad I was home alone and not at school. Other guys at my high school could lift 50s and I was getting killed by 25s. Everybody starts somewhere, right? Well it sucks when you feel like you’re starting 20 yards behind everybody else. And then there’s the eating. How does anyone find the time to eat as much as it takes to grow? I’m hard pressed to get two good meals a day. I wish I could dedicate myself to working out and eating, like I can dedicate myself to playing video games. Games, with characters who have the type of muscular body I want. I wish. I wish. I wish. I’m always wishing. Dad says I need to be a man of action and stop making excuses. I know that, but knowing and doing are two different things. “Nathan!” My little 8-year old sister, Alexis, called my name. “What!” I shouted back. Me and my sister were home from school. All schools were closed because of the Covid-19 pandemic gripping the world. I had hardly seen my parents once in two days because of it. They were both nurses, pulling double shifts at St. Michael’s Hospital. It was up to me to keep an eye on Alexis. She appeared in front of the door wearing pink pony pajamas, her hair in two golden pig tails. “You ate all the oreos!” “So,” I said. “There was only like six left.” “Oreos are my favorite. You could have left some.” I let out a low grumble. “You ate all the chips ahoy yesterday, and they’re my favorite, so call it pay back.” She put her hands on her hips. “I want something sweet and there’s nothing sweet in the house.” “Well then you shouldn’t have eaten all the chips ahoy yesterday.” She stomped her foot at that, and stormed off. Several minutes later I heard the door to our apartment slam. Shit! I ran out the apartment, past the elevator that said ‘Out of Order’, to the stairwell and called down to her. “Where do you think you’re going?” “To the deli!” Around here ‘the deli’ was Rosa’s Mercado. Alexis was safe to go there by herself. It was always open and Rosa knew me and Alexis. Also, I could see it from our balcony. “I’ll be watching you.” I said. No reply, as she continued hopping down the stairs, still in her pajamas, but with a jacket and sneakers on, as well. I walked to the balcony and leaned on the railing. Alexis ran out onto the sidewalk and looked both ways before crossing the street. Good girl. I followed her with my gaze until something more interesting across the street, caught my eye. Two huge shirtless dudes were standing in Sal’s Junk Lot. It wasn’t really a junk lot. It was Sal’s backyard, but he kept it like a junk lot. Metal scrap everywhere, no grass that wasn’t dead, and the obligatory ‘Beware of Dog’ sign, though he definitely didn’t have a dog. I glanced over at Alexis and saw her skip into Rosa’s, then I turned back toward Sal and his two friends. They were absolute monsters who must have weighed over 300 lbs. One was black and bald. The other was white with shoulder length brown hair tied back in a pony tail. Both were a good foot taller than Sal and carried some fat on their thick muscular frames. The black guy had a roid-gut with a little definition. The white guy more fat on his substantial gut and more hair as well. He was like a bear. Sal waved at me when he noticed me looking. I waved back. He was a friend of my father’s so he knew me well. Sal was a decently build guy, bigger than my old man, but the two men standing beside him made him look tiny. The black guy’s delts were as big as Sal’s head! “Let me introduce you,” Sal said. The street and sidewalk were pretty narrow and our apartment was only on the second floor so talking to them wasn’t a problem. “This is my cousin Vincent.” Sal pointed to the white guy. “And his friend Andre. Guys, this is Nathan.” We said our hellos and for some reason I blurted out, “You guys are freakin’ huge!” I just couldn’t control it. Vincent and Andre shared a look and laughed. “Are you guys pro bodybuilders?” I asked. “Nah,” Vincent said. “We’re just two guys that like growing big.” “There gym is closed ‘cus a the Corona,” Sal said, “So I told ‘em they could come by here and lift some things.” “Oh,” I nodded. Alexis came skipping down the street with an ice cream bar in her mouth and a pack of Oreos under her arm. She must have spent all her allowance for the week. She stopped and looked up at me and then looked through the chain-link fence that surrounded Sal’s property. She walked up to the fence and stared at Sal and the guys. Sal came up to the fence and crouched down. They started talking and Alexis pointed back at me, then waved Vincent and Andre over. They all looked at me briefly and smiled before going back to talking. I tried to hear what they were saying but they were talking in low voices, that didn’t carry across the street. Finally, Alexis stepped away from them and walked back to the apartment building. When she got upstairs, I darted into the living room and asked her what she said to them. Her mouth was covered in chocolate and she licked around it before she spoke. “I just said, my brother wants muscles like them but he’s too lazy to work for them. Then I told them about your weight set and how you never use it and maybe they should have it because then it wouldn’t be going to waste.” “What did you say all that for?” “Because it’s the truth,” she said, in her petulant tone. “You are too lazy to build muscles like that and your weight set should go to someone that’s not lazy so it can get some use!” She stuck out her tongue. “Get over here.” I reached out to grab her but she dodged me. “You couldn’t hurt me with those skinny arms.” “You’re skinnier,” I reminded her. “I’m an eight-year old girl, so I should be.” Touché. I turned around. I hardly wanted to go back on the porch after my sister embarrassed me, but I had to. Those two guys were so impressive I just had to see them again. When I got back on the porch, they had a series of weights spread out on the hard, brown earth in the clearing of Sal’s lot. Barbells and dumbbells that Sal must have had buries in some pile for years, because I had never seen them before. The metal was rusty in spots, where the black paint had chipped away, but I could still make out the number painted on the sides in white. I watched as they put three 45-lb plates on each side of a bar. It appeared to be a standard Olympic bar weighing 45 pounds. With the six plates that was a total of 315. I had seen guys on the football team bench that, but Sal didn’t have a bench out there so I figured they were going to deadlift it. I was wrong. Vincent bent over, bought it up like a deadlift, then, as fast as I’ve ever seen anyone move a weight, bought all 315 pounds overhead and began pressing it. Rep after rep after rep. I was too shocked to count how many he did. I just couldn’t believe he was shoulder pressing 315 pounds and making it look easy. Vincent dropped the weight to the ground and the plates sunk into the earth several inches on both ends. My mouth was agape when I heard Vincent shout “light weight!” Andre picked up the bar as easily as Vincent did and began pumping out an endless stream of reps. With less fat and hair on his body, I could see Andre’s muscle fibers bulging and tensing as he worked. God, it was impressive. Just then Alexis came onto the porch. She grabbed onto the railing and pressed her face against the bars like she was a prisoner in the county jail. “Whattyah looking at?” She asked. “Those guys just shoulder pressed 315 pounds for reps!” “Is that a lot?” She looked up at me. “When you went to the doctor, how much did you weigh?” She put a finger on her chin and looked at the sky. “Uuum, 52 pounds.” “Then they just lifted 6 of you.” “Wow. How many of you is that?” “I weigh 124, so that’s like 2 and a half of me.” “I’m not surprised they can lift that much. Look at them. They probably have more muscle in one of their arms than you have in your whole body.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand. That’s not normal. Even for big guys. That’s freak status.” “Impressive, right?” Sal called up to me. “Yeah!” I said. “And they’re just getting warmed up.” I watched Vincent put two more plates on the bar. I leaned forward. No way was he about to press 405. Vincent stood at the middle of the bar looked down at the weight. He tilted his head from side to side and shook his body to loosen up. Then he bent over and bought the weight up as he did before. Impossible. He began cranking out rep after rep as easily as he had before. This time I counted. 1. 2. 3…15! 15 reps! “No way!” I shouted. I had seen guys on YouTube do that for one or two reps with spotters and lifting belts. And none of them lifted it from the ground. Vincent and Andre were laughing at my exclamation. “I think the kid is impressed, Sal,” Andre said. “Impressed? I’m amazed.” Andre then took his turn and cranked out 15 reps as well. “How did you two get so strong?” I asked “Hard work,” Vincent said. “And lots of it.” After performing that many reps with all that weight, both Vincent and Andre’s upper bodies were looking pumped. I had to admit they looked really good. “What’s going on in your pants?” Alexis was looking to her left and was eye level with my crotch. I quickly adjusted it. “It’s nothing,” I said, slightly embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time I had gotten an erection from a muscular man, but it was the first time I had gotten one in front of my sister. “You’re weird,” Alexis said. “What’s all this racket out here?” I looked over at the balcony to our right and saw old Mrs. Gilmore and her husband stepping outside. “We’re watching the muscle men lift weights,” Alexis said “And Nathan’s peepee is acting weird.” I shot my sister a mean look. Too bad Covid-19 doesn’t’ kill healthy kids. I’ll have to do it myself. Luckily, it didn’t seem like the Gilmores paid much attention to her comment. They were both leaning on the balcony watching Vincent and Andre. “Good lord,” Mrs. Gilmore adjusted her glasses and squinted. “Those men are humongous. Like the Schwarzenegger fellow.” “Remember when I had muscles like that dear?” said Mr. Gilmore. “You only dreamed you had muscles like that, Fred.” “What are you talking about?” Mr. Gilmore raised his arms and flexed. “In my army days I was strong as a bull.” “And full of it, too.” I stifled a laugh. Mrs. Gilmore could be hilarious when she wanted to be. “Excuse me young man,” Mrs. Gilmore called down, pointing at Vincent. “Are you a professional strong man?” I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t 1922, but I kept my mouth shut. “We’re strong men,” Vincent. “Not professional.” “Do you bend iron bars and such,” Mrs. Gilmore asked. “When I was a little girl my father used to take us to the circus and I always loved watching the strong men bend things.” “Yeah, we can bend stuff,” Vincent said. “Sal, you got some stuff we can bend?” “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” Sal was looking around. Then he ran off behind a pile of junk. He returned with a handful of metal rods and a couple of frying pans. They weren’t the cheap, thin frying pans either. They were the high-quality stainless-steel kind. And the metal bars looked to be ¾ of an inch thick. “Watch this.” Vincent said. He took an iron bar and handed one to Andre. “Let’s do two,” Andre said. “Were getting a real audience.” When he said that, I look around and noticed more people had stepped out on their balconies. Ms. Derne was on the balcony immediately to my left, lighting a cigarette. “What a couple of hunks,” she said, then whistled. “You can say that again!” Rodney upstairs said. I leaned over the balcony and looked up. Rodney and his husband were wearing matching sweaters and sunglasses and had their eyes trained on the muscle show across the street. Vincent and Andre began to bend their bars. The veins and tendons in their necks popped out and their massive bodies trembled as they struggled against the steel. I almost thought they wouldn’t do it, but the rods began to bend. They gritted their teeth and growled, bending the steel more and more. “Oh wow, look at their chests.” Mrs. Gilmore said. “Their muscles look like they’re going to explode,” Alexis said. They had both bent the rods into U’s. That was impressive enough, considering the thickness of them, but they persevered, bending them further and further until they had created a loop. They each held their rods overhead and smiled as they were showered with cheers and claps. Mrs. Gilmore was clapping loudest of all. “There like super heroes,” Someone on a lower balcony said. I bent over and saw some of the middle schoolers who hung out together in the building, watching the show as well. “Do the frying pans!” Alexis shouted. “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Gilmore said, turning toward Alexis and smiling. “I want to see that too.” Each of the strong men took a frying pan and looked it over. “These things are really solid,” Andre said, tapping his pan against one of the 45s on the ground. “Piece of cake,” Vincent said, flexing his arms, and grinning. They each pressed their pan into their thighs for leverage and began squeezing and pushing against the metal until the edge bent inward. Then they continued pushing and twisting the metal. Their forearms looked as big as my thigh and every tendon was rippling across them in waves like a series of steel cords beneath their skin. I had to adjust my crotch again. Within minutes they had rolled the pans into narrow cylinders. “Let me see that,” Sal said. He took Vincent’s pan and whistled. “Whoa, cus. I knew you two were strong but I wasn’t expecting this.” Vincent laughed, his muscle gut bouncing. “We just keep getting stronger.” “Damn right!” Andre said, going into a most muscular pose. There were whistles, clapping, and more cheering from the audience on the balconies. Now it looked like everyone who was stuck at home had come out to watch the two super men. “What’s the most you guys can lift overhead with one arm?” One of the middle schoolers asked. Vincent looked at Sal. “What’s the heaviest dumbbells you got around here?” Sal scratched his head. “I got some big suckers under that tarp over there. They were from an old strongman gym. Haven’t been moved since the day they were put there, cus no one can lift ‘em. I remember it took a couple of guys and a dolly to get in here.” Vincent swaggered over to the tarp and tossed it aside. He squatted down and squinted at the rusty dumbbells. They were absolutely colossal. I didn’t realize they made dumbbells that big. “Says they’re 250s,” Vincent said. “You sure that’s the heaviest you have?” “Well damn man,” Sal said. “Aint it heavy enough?” Vincent and Andre shared a look and laughed. “To answer your question kid,” Vincent said. “The most we can lift with one arm over head is more than 250 pounds, but 250 pounds is all we’ve got.” Vincent bent down, lifted the weight with both arms, bought it to his chest, then let his left arm fall to his side. With his right arm he hoisted the weight into the air and locked his arm into position. “Everyone count,” Andre said. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…” Everyone joined in and the sound of counting filled the street. By twenty Mississippi Vincent’s entire body was trembling. He dropped he weight to the ground, and waved his arms for the crowd to cheer. “That was good,” Andre patted Vincent on the shoulder. “But you cheated. You used two hands to get it off the ground.” Vincent rolled his eyes. “Here’s how it’s done.” Andre grabbed the 250-pound dumbbell with one hand and lifted it from the ground. Then using the force of his legs as much as his arms, he thrust the weight upward and locked his arm out above his head. But he could only hold it for 12 seconds. They had both just lifted more than twice my weight overhead, with one arm. I wondered what it must feel like to be than strong, that amazingly powerful. They probably have to be careful when shaking hands or they’ll crush them. “Man, I’m working up quite an appetite,” Andre said, patting his distended roid gut. “Yeah, but before we get some grub, let’s give our audience a grand finale,” Vincent said. I wondered what they could have possibly had in store. What could have been more impressive than the feats of strength they had already done? Vincent walked over to an old junk car and pointed at it. “Hey Sal, how much you think this weighs?” “About 2 tons.” “4000 pounds,” Vincent said. “Let’s go Andre. We’ll lift it from the middle. You get on that side.” 4000 pounds! I had my hands on my head, not believing what I was about to see. Vincent and Andre took their positions. They bent down and grabbed under the edge of the car, taking some time to find the best spots to hold on to. Everyone watching was silent. Even the air seemed to go still, in anticipation. The two men began to lift. Every muscle in their bodies was bulging and flexing. They grimaced in pain as they pushed themselves to the limit. The Gilmore’s had their hands over their mouths. Ms. Derne was leaning so far over the railing, I thought she might fall to her death. My little sister was gripping the bars of the railing so tight she squeezed the blood out of her hands until they were bone white. I just stood there, mouth agape, but not breathing. The car rose, and rose, and rose. They lifted it waist high. Unbe-fucking-lievable! The crowd went wild. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, they had to take it to the next level. They began to walk with the car. Slow, measured steps. After they had gone several feet, they sat the car down, backed away from it, and took a bow. “Your pants are doing that thing again,” Alexis said. I quickly adjusted myself. “Will you stop looking, sis!” “Well, that’s all folks!” Sal said, in his best Porky Pig voice, which was a terrible Porky Pig voice. “Hope you all enjoyed that!” Vincent said. The two strong men waved as the onlookers cheered and clapped louder than they had at any time before. I looked around at all those different people, men and women, young and old, gay and straight, who had gathered to watch Vincent and Andre, and I was amazed at how the mutual admiration of muscle and strength bought them together. It seemed to bring so much joy to their lives and they seemed genuinely impressed. I wanted that. I wanted people to look at me like that. And I knew just what I had to do. I darted inside the apartment, headed toward my room and my weight set. Finally, I had the inspiration I needed. Alexis followed after me. “Where are you going?” She said. “I’m going to do some hard work. Lots of it.” I lifted weights for the next two hours and didn’t care how sore I got.
  4. Theft It started, like so many days in his life started, with exercise. Nick jogged down Neville St., past the same Victorian era manors and old-growth sycamores he’d seen many mornings. His baby-blue under armor shirt clung to his sweaty pecs and tightly chiseled mid-section. He was heading to his parent’s house for a workout. Since the public gyms were all closed because of the pandemic, his father’s garage gym was his next best option. He felt extra inspired to workout today, after passing Sal’s junk yard on his run. Nick had seen two of the biggest men he’d ever laid eyes on talking with Sal. He thought about how amazing it would feel to be as big as them. “Young man!” He heard a woman’s voice. Nick stopped, placed his hands on his hips and looked around. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and panted heavily. He didn’t see anyone at first and was ready to call out. Then he saw her, through the branches of overgrown rhododendrons, standing on a porch. The house was far from the sidewalk, a towering, old thing on a large corner lot. How many times had he passed this house and never paid it any mind? The house could have been elegant once, but it had seen better days. Now it was a cracked and faded structure straight from an old horror movie that stood in stark contrast to the beauty on the porch. “You talking to me?” Nick moved closer to the rhododendrons. There was a low fence and a gate in front of them. He slung his beefy arms over it, leaning in, waiting for a response. “Yes. Can you come here?” He thought about it. People were supposed to be social distancing, especially with strangers, but… What the hell? He lifted the latch on the gate and walked in, stepping across an uneven cobblestone path. The woman stood, still as a porcelain figurine. Only her sheer yellow sun dress moved, billowing in the spring breeze. She was in her forties by the look of her. Her walnut brown hair was streaked with a single line of gray. The neck of her dress was cut low revealing a tease of cleavage. Nick was only 21, but he found this woman hot as hell. A real MILF. The closer he came to her, the more apparent her beauty became. Elegance and grace with just enough makeup to accent, without making it look like she was trying too hard. “Yes, Mam?” “Please, honey, call me Grace.” He eyed the mailbox by the door. It read Arbour. The name was familiar, but he didn’t know why. Nick couldn’t think straight. His mind was filled with the fantasies of what he would like to do with Grace, as the growing python in his shorts could attest to. “I’m Nick.” She extended her hand and Nick shook it. “You look like a strong young man,” Grace said. “I’ve watched you pass by many mornings from the window up there.” She pointed to an oval window high above the porch than looked like some reptilian eye wreathed in moss and vines. Nick smiled, blushing. He shrugged. “Well, I keep myself fit.” He unconsciously bounced his pecs. “You bench press a lot?” Grace smiled. A beautiful smile. “275.” Nick said. “And how big are those arms?” Nick flexed. “Oh, these? About 20 inches, I guess.” He knew exactly. They were 19.5 in, but you have to round up. “May I?” Grace reached out and Nick ascended the stairs, stopping just a couple of feet from her. She squeezed his arm and beamed. “It’s so big! I can’t even reach around it!” She giggled. “You’re perfect.” “Perfect for what, or are we talking in general?” Nick laughed. Grace ran a hand through his blonde hair and let it slide down his cheek. She took his chin in her hand and turned his head from side to side. “Perfect,” she mumbled. Her face was serious. “Do you need something Grace?” Please say sex. Please say sex. Please say sex. “I need a strong young man like you to help me move a few heavy things.” “Ok.” Nick grinned. He knew that was just a ploy to get him inside. The cougar definitely wanted to fuck. He’d move a few things. She’d offer him a drink afterward, and then say in a sultry voice ‘Is there something else I can do to thank you?’ as she ran her hand slowly down his torso to his eager crotch. Nick followed Grace inside. The house looked much better on the interior. It had a modern, open floor plan, with chic furniture in earth tones. “Through here,” Grace said. She showed Nick a room filled with solid oak furniture, antiques by the look of them. There were also huge pots filled with soil, Iron stands with solid marble tops, and stone busts of famous dead people. ‘A few heavy things’ was an understatement. It was a lot of heavy things, but Nick made short work of it. He moved everything she asked him to. Some things into the living room, some things outside, some things to the basement. A lot of the stuff was dusty and she told him to take his shirt off if he didn’t want to get it dirty. He obliged, and she seemed quite pleased with what she saw. Her eyes followed him everywhere. It would have been creepy, if she hadn’t been so hot. When he was finished, Nick plopped down on her black leather sofa, still shirtless, his tanned skin glistening with sweat. “Would you like a drink?” She asked. “I have cold beers. You’re old enough for that right?” She smiled. “Sure, that would be great.” Nick stared into her eyes, sensing the desire. She wanted him bad. His father’s gym would have to wait. He was getting a different kind of workout today. She returned in short order with two cold Coronas on a silver platter, already open and with limes sticking out of them. Nick laughed at the irony. She held up hers. “In honor of the men and women, fighting the virus. May the world overcome!” Nick lifted his and they tapped rims. He squeezed the lime in, and drank. When he was finished Grace walked over to him and stepped behind the couch. He twisted his head around, following her and felt her hand on his shoulder. “See, anything you like, hun?” “I do.” Nick replied, drawing out the ‘o’. “There’s a bathroom upstairs, second door on the right. Go wash yourself up.” Nick rose, a little unsteady on his feet. Moving all that stuff had been quite the workout. He climbed the stairs, but before reaching the bathroom, he stopped and peered through a cracked door on the left. He could see a hospital bed with someone in it, and his curiosity got the better of him. He walked to the door and gently pushed it open. The hinge whined. The thinnest man he had ever seen laid on the bed, hooked up to tubes and sensors. He appeared to be as young as Nick by his complexion, but was devoid of flesh. Skin shrink-wrapped over bone. Joe felt nauseous. He clutched his stomach and winced. “My son.” Grace said. “Frankie.” Nick flinched. Grace was so close behind him, he could feel her hot breath on the nape of his neck. He hadn’t heard her come up the stairs. Then there was a moment of recollection. Arbour. That name. Frankie Arbour. Yes, Nick remembered it now. Skinny Frankie Arbour. The kid who always seemed to get skinnier every year. He and the other boys on the football team used to make fun of him. Every day, they made his life a living hell in high school. They would force him into playing games of strength he had no chance of winning. They would shove him for no reason, steal his lunches, and taunt him with names like ‘stick-man’ and ‘twiggy’. Nick had been the ringleader, as captain of the football team. He knew he had been an asshole back then and truly regretted it. In college he had matured and changed his ways, probably because he was no longer the biggest or most athletic guy around. He had been humbled. If he had seen his former victim again, he would have apologized, but Frankie had disappeared early Senior year and no one had seen him since. “What’s wrong with him?” Nick asked. “He has Richoltz Syndrome. It causes his muscles to slowly waste away. I tried to give him as normal a life as I could for as long as I could. Sadly, I couldn’t make it a happy one. In school, he was bullied constantly for how weak and small he was.” Nick glanced back at her, the pain inside of him grew. Grace’s eyes were beginning to water. I’m sorry, he thought, but didn’t dare to say. “I eventually had to take him out of school,” Grace continued. “He was too weak to carry his books. Then too week to stand or walk. Now he can only blink. One blink for no. Two blinks for yes.” She pushed past him. Nick remained in the doorway and watch her lean over her son’s bed. She appeared soft around the edges. Was it the dim light in the room? “I found him, sweetie,” She said, staring down at her son. “Are you ready?” Two blinks. Now everything in his field of vision softened, growing blurry like he was seeing it through a haze. His legs became cooked noodles and collapsed beneath his weight. He caught himself and fumbled on his knees, trying to get up, but couldn’t. What was in that beer? He looked up and saw Grace’s blurry figure peering down at him, all her beautiful features washed away. As darkness took hold of him, he felt fear. Then he felt the cold hard floor press against his cheek. Nick awoke seated in a heavily built chair beside the hospital bed. Thick leather straps held his arms and legs in place and one around his neck kept his head from moving forward, but he could turn it from side to side. He felt something on his head like a crown and then when he noticed a mirror on the other side of the room, he saw that the thing he was wearing was a metal ring with three circular pads pressed against his head. Frankie had on a something similar, and wires attached the two devices. Nick tensed and shook violently trying to free himself from the bonds. “Don’t waste your time, Nick,” Grace said. She was standing by a machine that looked like a disc jockey’s turn table, turning dials and pressing buttons. “What the fuck are you doing to me!?” “I’m giving my son your body.” She said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, Nick was caught off guard. She didn’t even lok him in the eye. Was she serious? What kind of fantasy world was this crazy bitch living in? “You’re what?” Nick asked, incredulous. “You heard me.” Nick felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. This couldn’t be happening. This was impossible. It was a joke. It had to be. “Very funny, Grace. Hahaha. Joke’s over. Now let me go.” “It took me so long to figure out how to do it,” Grace intoned, in a trance. “I was running out of time. My little Frankie doesn’t have much time left. Richoltz Symdrome is fatal. But he hung on, my little trooper, long enough for me to build my device.” “Look, Mrs. Arbour, please just let me go. this isn’t funny.” Nick was trembling trying to break free, every muscle in his body was tensed. “It will be quick,” she said, still working with her dials and checking charts and meters. “You should be honored, Nick. Frankie requested you, special. He always wanted a big, strong, muscular body like the athletes who tormented him day after day. All he ever wanted was to be like you, but he couldn’t because he was a prisoner in a failing body. When I told him I could free him, it was just before he lost the ability to speak. I remember the conversation like it was yesterday.” Tears were streaming down her face. “Mom, you could give me any body I want? “Yes, honey.” “What happens to them?” “They go into your body” “I want Nicholas Natelli’s body.” “Was he a classmate of yours?” “Yes. A bully. A monster.” “Why do you want him?” “Because he deserves this frail body. He never used his muscles for good.” Grace was scowling at Nick, now. “He called you a monster!” Her words, like acid. “Frankie, I’m sorry man!” Nick screamed. Tears streamed down his face. “I’m not that same person. I’m good. I help people. I’m not a bully anymore. Believe me! I’m sorry about the swirlies, the names, pushing you around, all of it!” “Too little, too late,” Grace said. “He needed kind words and a friend back then. Now he needs a new body.” “You don’t want to ruin my life, Grace, please!” Nick pleaded. “I have a life, parents, a girlfriend!” “My son has a life too! And his means more to me than yours ever will.” She flipped a lever on her device and Nick felt a strong current flow through him. He gritted his teeth and trembled violently, digging his nails into the arm of the chair. Then, suddenly, it stopped. He was motionless, staring at the ceiling, unable to speak or move his arms and legs. But he could hear. “How does it feel?” Grace asked. “Great!” He heard his voice respond. No. No. No. Nononononoooo! He turned his eyes as far as they would go and saw his old body standing beside the bed, looking down at him. Frankie was flexing it, feeling his knew muscular body. His stolen body! “Fuck, dude you’ve been taking real good care of this body. It’s twice the size it was in high school and ripped, too.” He was poking his new biceps and pecs, then he ran his hands along his cobblestone abs. Nick wanted to say ‘fuck you to hell’ but he could only watch in horror. “I’ve never kissed a girl,” Frankie said. “Never had sex. Never went to a party. Was never popular, or respected. But now, with this body I can have it all and more.” He hugged his mother, lifting her of the ground. She yelped in surprise. “Thank you, mom. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” “You’re welcome honey. Anything for you.” Then she wagged a finger at him. “But you’ll need to hold off on having fun for a little while, there’s a pandemic going on out there and I didn’t give you this body so you could turn around and get sick.” “Wait, seriously?” Frankie asked. “Yeah, I know, bad timing,” Grace said. The mother and son, duo continued their banter as they walked to the door. Nick followed them with his eyes. Grace stopped in the doorway and turned around. “You know, Nick, I understand that you’re going to hate being trapped in that body, but if it’s any consolation, you won’t be in it much longer. If Frankie’s doctors are to be believed, that is.” She giggled, then smiled, the same smile she had shown on the porch. Why didn’t Nick see it before? That wasn’t a beautiful smile. It was a wicked one.
  5. Sex Seamus could hear the clank of weights coming from the basement gym. Jamie was down their lifting as he had been nearly every day since the Coronavirus quarantine began a week prior. That man was workout obsessed and it showed. Seamus had known him 8 years and, in that time, Jamie had grown consistently from mildly athletic to pro-bodybuilder in looks. Still, it seemed he was always chasing more, ever hungry for more size and strength. The stairs to the basement creaked under the weight of heavy footfalls and Seamus knew Jamie was finished with his two-hour workout. The door swung open and his hulking housemate appeared, crowding the doorway with his mass. His sweat soaked muscles were pumped to the max, threatening to burst out of his paper-thin skin. “The beast rises from his lair,” Seamus said, flippant. In his mind a series of scenarios was playing out between him and Jamie. Scenarios that involved a bed and copious amounts of lube. “Ha ha,” Jamie said. “You really should join this beast sometime in his lair. Put some meat on those skinny arms of yours.” Jamie reached out and grabbed Seamus’ arms enveloping his upper arm with his manly paw. “In all the time I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lift a weight.” It was true. Seamus wasn’t much of a fan of weightlifting. He did his running and that was exercise enough for him. Sometimes he’d run with his old college buddy, Nick Natelli, and other times he’d go alone. Running had given him a lean, svelte figure that complimented his small frame. Jamie on the other hand was destined for size. He would look downright unnatural without a hundred pounds of extra muscle on his towering, wide body. “I get my exercise,” Seamus said. “Whatever man, but honestly we need to work out together sometime.” Seamus would have loved to, honestly. But he couldn’t be in the same room with Jamie while he was working out. Jamie was a rugged looking man, not traditionally handsome, but with the look Seamus adored, messy dark hair the color of rich earth and a trim beard framing an angular face. With that head on the body of Adonis (if Adonis was on hearty dose of roids), Jamie was a thirst trap. If Seamus had to watch him lift weights, listen to his grunting as he pumped his muscles bigger and bigger, he would blow his load right then and there. He wouldn’t be able to help it. He had cum hands-free before, just watching a flexing video on YouTube. “Is Carmen back?” Jamie asked. “No. The lines at the store are probably around the block.” Carmen was Jamie’s girlfriend. She shared the house with them. Seamus envied her. How lucky she was to get to sleep with the ideal man. She had left two hours ago to get some groceries. Seamus had thought they had enough food to last two weeks, but Jamie had eaten through it like a mad man, but a growing boy has to eat so he couldn’t be too man at him. Maybe it was asking too much to expect a man accustom to 8-egg omelets to have 6-egg omelets instead. “Man, I hope she comes back soon. I’m horny as fuck!” “I can see.” Seamus eyed the boner in Jamie’s nylon shorts. “If she doesn’t come back soon, I might just have to take care of it myself, if you know what I mean.” Jamie tapped Seamus gently on the shoulder with a clenched fist and grinned. Seamus laughed. He wanted to say he could take care of it for him, but he didn’t. There was nothing about Jamie that would imply he would ever like a man. In all the time Seamus had known him, he was always with a woman, not single even once. It was as if there was a queue of women waiting their turn to be with him whenever one of his relationships ended. Seamus had accepted that he would only be Jamie’s friend, his little gay friend, whose fantasies could only play out in his mind. Jamie stepped past him and entered the kitchen. Seamus followed, wondering what it would be like to run his hands across that wide back, with so many ridges and valleys I was like a topographical map. Seamus watched as Jamie took a ready-made protein shake from the fridge, that Carmen had prepared for him before she left, and chugged it in one go. When the shaker cup hit the counter, they heard the front door open and shut and both men turned their heads toward the kitchen door. Carmen entered wearing an N95 mask on her face and blue latex gloves on her hands, carrying four large grocery bags in her arms. She was a strong woman, with an athletic build that curved in all the right places, caramel skin and blonde highlights in her black hair. “Oh babe!” Jamie said. “Am I glad to see you.” “Hungry?” She asked, putting the bags on the island. “I’m hungry alright.” Jamie darted across the kitchen and pulled her close, cupping her round ass and raising her off the ground. He kissed her neck and said. “I’m hungry and you’re looking like a snack.” Carmen giggled. “You’re all sweaty!” “You like that.” She giggled again, nodding her head. “Mhhhm.” “Let’s save the groceries for later,” Jamie said. He pressed his erection into her. “You feel that.” “You’re an animal,” Carmen said, before kissing him on the lips. Jamie carried her from the room as she rubbed her small hands over his massive body. Seamus stood, leaning against the counter and shaking his head in jealousy. “Lucky bitch.” He proceeded to put the groceries away. Unexpectedly, Jamie returned less than 5 minutes later. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen with a serious expression on his face, staring at Seamus. His erection was still prominent. Seamus couldn’t help but wonder: what gives? After Jamie stared for an inordinate amount of time Seamus could sense a rising tension. To cut it, he joked. “That was fast. Never knew you to be a minute-man.” “We had a discussion,” Jamie said, stepping further into the kitchen. “Uh, OK,” Seamus said. “About what?” “Carmen wants a threesome.” Jamie bowed his head and stared at the floor, then turned only his eyes upward, like a child who did something bad and didn’t want to make direct eye contact. Seamus’ eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped open. He didn’t know what to say. “Like, Now.” Jamie continued. “I told her sure I’d find a girl after the quarantine. She said she wanted two guys. I said OK I’ll ask around. She said we got someone right here. And I said you probably wouldn’t be interested in having a threesome with a woman in the mix, and that we were friends and it would be awkward…” And suddenly Seamus stopped listening. This big, sexy, meathead of a friend was rambling on and on and he couldn’t hear any of it. He was already in the bedroom. The threesome was already happening in his mind. Oh, fuck yes, he’d do it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole room was full of women as long as Jamie was there naked! “Yeah, OK. I’ll do it.” And Jamie was rambling on. “I’ll fucking do it man!” Jamie stopped his chattering. “You will?” Seamus nodded “You and I have never done anything like this before?” “The world might literally be ending,” Seamus smirked. “Now is as good a time as any to try something new.” Jamie smiled. “Well, come the fuck on little man.” When they entered Jamie’s bedroom, Carmen was dead center on the king-sized bed, reclined across a navy-blue comforter. She was topless, her perky tits on full display, and smiling widely. “He agreed,” She said, rolling to the edge of the bed and coming to her feet. “Yeah. He seems eager, too.” Jamie said. Eager? Jamie didn’t know the half of it. Carmen sauntered over to them, across the dimly lit room, and placed a gentle hand on Seamus’ shoulder. She wore tight blue jeans and black stilettos. “Jamie is big into having his muscles worshipped,” She said. “I enjoy worshipping them. Do you like muscular men?” “Yes.” Seamus said. “Good, we’ll worship him together.” She looked Jamie in the eyes and ran a red fingernail gently down his thick chest. “And see where it goes from there.” Seamus stripped naked. Carmen followed suit, kicking her heels to the side which dropped her down several inches. She’s rose only to Jamie’s nipple. Seamus came just to his shoulders. His average sized cock was painfully erect as he thought about the thick member ready to be freed from Jamie’s shorts. Seamus took the left side and Carmen the right. In no time the two were in synch, guiding each other with just a look. Both their hands reached for Jamie’s shorts, pulling them down right along with the underwear, freeing the beast within. Jamie’s cock flopped out and bobbed, heavily. Seamus had never seen it so close. Its veiny shaft was arched upward slightly. Amazingly thick throughout, but thicker at the base, tapering to a bulbous swollen head, pink and tender. He reached for that beautiful massive cock and squeezed it gently. Hard as an iron bar. Seamus licked his lips. He was ready to taste it, but Carmen touched his hand. He looked at her and followed her gaze upward to the towering muscleman between them. Jamie was in a double bicep pose, flexing hard. His muscles, still pumped from his workout, looked twice as big as normal. And he was so wide. Every muscle on him exuded power and sex appeal. Pure, testosterone pumped masculinity. The cock would have to wait, Seamus knew. That course was yet to come. First the appetizer. He rose, plunging his head into Jamie’s hairy pits. The pungent odor filled his nostrils, intoxicating him with lust. He squeezed and clawed, rubbed and licked Jamie’s muscles. Carmen did the same. At times their hands would touch from across Jamie’s wide frame, as one would enter the others territory. Seamus reaching for the right side. Carmen for the left. Jamie let out moans of pleasure interspersed with the occasional utterance. “Fuck.” “Yes.” “Feel that.” “Worship me.” “yeah, like that.” Jamie tried a dozen or more poses as his two worshippers ran their hands along his body, from his diamond calves and teardrop quads to his capped deltoids and step-like traps. Seamus could tell from the look in Jamie’s eyes that he was reveling in it, his ego feeding on the worship. Jamie’s cock seemed to grow larger from it. It was impossibly swollen and leaking pre-cum like a faucet. The muscleman’s eyes rolled back briefly and when they returned, there was a different look in them. Jamie’s mouth twisted into a crooked, toothy grin that betrayed more than pleasure. A hunger. Jamie leaned forward and roared as he performed a most muscular pose. Tendons and veins popped out everywhere across his upper body. So many striations. So much size. So…much…power! “We’ve awakened the beast,” Carmen said, seductively. “Are you ready?” “For what?” Seamus said. Carmen smiled. “Flex!” Jamie shouted. Seamus was caught off-guard at first. Did Jamie just ask him to flex? Then he repeated it. “Flex!” And Seamus did so. Jamie pulled him close “Look at that.” Jamie said. “My arms are three times as big as his. Do you see that?” “I see it.” Carmen said. She was rubbing her clit now. “Do you like that, babe?” “Yes!” Carmen shouted, rubbing herself faster and faster. “I love how big you are compared to him. It’s so hot, seeing his puny, pathetic, body next to yours.” Under any other circumstance Seamus might have been insulted, but here in the presence of his muscular friend, that denigration was hot. So hot. Now he was leaking pre-cum as well. “Lift him.” Carmen commanded. Jamie put one hand between Seamus’ legs and the other on the nape of his neck and, with frightening ease, lifted Seamus overhead. He had never been lifted before. It was amazing to be at the mercy of one so strong. “Throw him.” Carmen said. And Seamus flew, landing on the bed. Carmen laughed. “My Hercules!” She was still rubbing her clit. “Let me help you with that.” Jamies grabbed he like a rag doll and lifted her up. She slung her legs over his shoulders as he buried his head in her wet pussy. He was performing oral while supporting her full weight like it was nothing! “Take is cock!” Carmen said. “Now!” She didn’t need to ask him twice. Seamus dove for Jamie’s throbbing fuck stick and took it all into his mouth, sucking and using his hands to toy with Jamie’s huge ball sack. The sounds of slurps intermingled with moans of pleasure. Seamus could feel the cum churning within Jamie’s member. It was ready to spasm and erupt, but Jamie pulled away. Seamus was left with his mouth agape, a string of saliva hanging between his lower lip and the head of Jamie’s cock. Jamie pulled away from Carmen’s pussy and sat her down. “I’m saving my seed for your ass, not your mouth,” Jamie said. Seamus had edged him to the brink of ejaculation, but had to stop. He could only imagine the fountain of cum that was about to pour into him. “She’s wet. I’m wet. Let’s fuck!” Jamie said. “Have you ever fucked a woman?” Carmen asked. Seamus shook his head no. “And I’ve never fucked a man.” Jamie said. Carmen extended her hand. Seamus took it. She led him to the bed, twisting her ass seductively. She fell back on the bed and pulled him toward her. Seamus fell atop her, his head between her tits. He touched them. Her nipples were hard, in stark contrast to the soft fatty flesh around them. She guided his cock into her. All the while Seamus could feel Jamie’s eyes on him. Did he enjoy seeing another man fuck his girl? Seamus began to thrust, pushing into her, harder and faster. He remembered he wasn’t wearing a condom. Should he ejaculate inside of her? What if she got pregnant? Then he remembered she was on the pill. “Don’t lose your rhythm,” Carmen said, between moans. “Why would I lose my rhythm,” Seamus asked, breathless. He was panting heavy. Then he felt it. He was enveloped by Jamie’s massive frame. Two arms, thick as logs came down on either side of him and Jamie entered him from behind. His massive cock stretched Seamus hole like he had never been stretched before. There as a wet squishiness. Ah, thank goodness Jamie used lube. “Fuuuuck!” Seamus screamed. Jamie’s began to fuck him as he fucked Carmen. Amazingly, he kept time with Seamus’ fast thrusts. There was friction. There was heat. They all began sweat and scream and moan until…release. Seamus came first. Followed quickly by Jamie, whose copious load began to leak out of seamus’ ass and dribble onto the bed. They collapsed into a sweaty pile, content. “Wanna do this again tomorrow?” Carmen asked. “Hell, do you want to do it again after dinner?” Jamie asked. “Guys, we can do it again right fucking now.” Seamus said. They laughed. Quarantine had just gotten better.
  6. Like many of you, I'm social distancing, and had a little time to write. This Coronavirus pandemic inspired me to write a series of short stories, each with muscle-obsessed characters having a little fun (or maybe not, in the case of one), while the pandemic rages in the larger world around them. There are 5 stories that all take place in the same un-named New York neighborhood. Growth: Scott and James are two friends, bored out of their minds while in isolation. When they decide to workout to pass the time, James reveals a new supplement that promises miraculous results. Sex: Seamus is Gay and obsessed with his huge alpha-male friend, Jamie. The only problem: Jamie is straight. But luckily for Seamus, Jamie's girlfriend, Carmen, has a surprise request for both of them. Theft: Nick is young, buff, and hot. His life couldn't get any better. But it could get worst. Does the sexy MILF, Grace, want to fuck him or does she want something else. Strength: Nathan is a skinny, lazy teen, stuck at home with his annoying kid sister. Suddenly, life get's interesting when he sees the size of his neighbor's two friends, and the things they can do. Domination: Little Wayne is a slave to his demanding 330-lb boyfriend, Connor, whom he calls master. Master wants to have some fun! Read all the stories or only the one that piques your interest the choice is yours. These are: "Corona Tales" Growth “What the fuck are we gonna do, Scott?” James said. “Nothing’s open except the grocery store and they’re pretty much empty.” “We have Netflix,” I said. James let out a grunt of disapproval. “This is a boredom not even Netflix can solve. I can’t believe we have 2 weeks of this shit. No movie theaters. No clubs. No parades, concerts, restaurants!” He grabbed his hair and pulled dramatically, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion. I shook my head and smiled sympathetically. The governor had shut down the state due to a viral pandemic that was sweeping the globe. With 20,000 reported cases and 1500 deaths in New York alone it was too little too late, but oh well. Honestly, I didn’t mind being shut in. I was a homebody anyway. My roommate, James, however had to be out doing something. He liked to be around people. I just liked being around him. To put it plainly: James was hot, a total package. While my looks were average, he was an 11 out of 10. It was really no wonder that he enjoyed being around people. Wherever he went he was the center of attention, like a great celestial body pulling everything around him into his gravitational field. James had dark hair, ‘styled’ messy and olive skin that belied his Mediterranean roots. His jaw was square and peppered with a five-o clock shadow and his eyes were honey brown. And don’t get me started on his body, a sight I was blessed to see on several occasions. He liked to work out. and it showed in how he filled out a shirt, bulging in all the right places. I worked out as well so I looked fit, but James had the genetics of a top-level physique competitor. He’d rival any pro if only he were bigger. Now that was a thought. If only he were bigger. My eyes wondered over his body as he sat their staring blankly at the TV. If only he were bigger… Let me stop and tell you I’m not gay. You may think I am, with the way I’m obsessing over James right now, but trust me I’m bisexual. I actually lean towards woman more often than not, but James could make even a straight man question himself. “Hello. Earth to Scott. What are you staring at?” James asked. I blinked. I was imagining you growing, every muscle on you swelling with size and power until your clothes couldn’t take it anymore and they burst at the seams. Your swelling form set free from the prison of those confining threads to expand ever outward with lean, hard, striated, veiny muscle. Your body growing so large it would never ever again be contained by clothes, not only because no clothes would fit you, but because it would be a disservice to mankind to cover you god-like magnificence with clothing ever again. “Nothing dude. I just spaced out for a minute,” I said. Then I had an idea. The apartment had a gym in the basement. It was pretty well stocked, for an apartment gym, and always empty. Maybe I could get him to develop a pump and that would satisfy my desire to see him grow. My cock grew stiff at the thought. “I know what we can do.” I said, smiling. “Let’s go down to the gym and do a full body workout.” James stared at me, tilting his beautiful head, obviously considering it deeply. He shrugged his shoulders and said “Fuck it. It’s better than sitting around doing nothing.” “Great!” “There’s a new supplement I just got that I’ve been meaning to try anyway,” James said. “New supplement?” I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah,” He pushed himself up and darted into his room. He returned with a small grey container in hand, and passed it to me. “Superpump,” I read aloud. The rest of it was in a foreign language. “What language is this.” “Not really sure. Maybe Russian or some other language in that family. I think it’s Russian, though, because it was that huge ass Russian guy at our gym that told me about it one day. You know who I’m talking about?” I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the container. There was a picture of a grotesquely sexy muscle man on the label, who had to be photoshopped because h looked bigger than Greg Golias. “The dude said this stuff works like magic. One scoop in a shake before working out and you’ll be amazed. Those were his exact words. You’ll be amazed. I whipped my phone out and ordered right on the spot.” “Cool.” I nodded. “Let’s see if it works.” The Russian guy James was talking about was the largest man I had ever seen outside of the Olympia. His arms had to be over 25 inches. And the dude seemed to grow consistently all year without ever putting on fat. We changed into out workout clothes: tanks, sweatpants, and sneakers. James mixed up a protein shake and added one heaping scoop of the Superpump. He poured a little into a glass for me, but he drank the lion’s share of it straight from the blender. The stuff didn’t taste bad. “Ready to get pumped!” I exclaimed, psyching him up. “Fuck yeah!” He slapped his hands down on my shoulders. “Let’s go!” We grabbed a couple of water bottles and James did a most muscular pose before we headed out the door. The second he turned around I adjusted my swelling cock. This was going to be an awkward workout. It’s so difficult to hide a hardon in sweats. We found the gym empty, as expected. After a quick stretch and a warmup with light weights, we got straight to work. James grabbed two 60 lb. dumb-bells, sat on a weight bench and began pumping out rep after rep of shoulder presses. I was doing standing curls with 40 lbs. in each hand, while stealing glances at James. The cords of muscle in his arms rippled beneath the skin, contracting with each rep. His arms were a thing of beauty. Each muscle group was clearly defined, from the upside-down teardrops that formed his delts, to the croissant-like triceps. He let out guttural grunts on his final reps as he strained to finish his set. I always loved how hard he pushed himself when working out. “Yah!” He called out in pain and satisfaction as his arms fell to his sides and he dropped the weights to the mat. He leaned forward, shoulders pumped and glistening with sebum and sweat. I put my dumb-bells back on the rack, and felt the telltale tightness of a pump in my own arms. “Feels good doesn’t it?” James asked, between breaths. “What?” “Getting a pump.” “Yeah, man. It does.” I flexed my biceps, knowing that he would do the same. James bought his arms up into a double bicep pose, forming two perfect peaks wrapped in a near symmetrical network of blue veins. He was so symmetrical it was like an artist had painted half of him and while the paint was still wet, folded the paper in two, to form the other half. “I don’t know why you don’t compete,” I said. “I’m not big enough for that.” I impulsively reached out and squeezed his bicep. A quick, playful squeeze between bros. Just long enough to feel it hardness in my hand. “You’re big enough for a local show,” I said. Though I agree, you should be bigger. “I’ll think about it.” He grinned. “Who knows, if this Superpump works as good as the Russian says I might just do it.” We continued our workout, moving from exercise to exercising with no real order, just having fun and passing time. Throughout the workout James’ pump went from the normal to the insane. Every muscle was swollen. I had developed a pump as well, but nothing like what I was witnessing on James. I was doing lateral raises while James was laying on the bench doing dumb-bell presses with 100 lbs. in each hand. As I watched the mounds of meat that were his pecs contract It seemed the cleavage between them was growing deeper with each rep. The slabs of muscle widened as well, right before my eyes, pushing his nipples out from behind the straps of his tank. Impossible. This was no ordinary pump. Looking down at my own body, I could see changes as well. I looked a little bigger here and there, but James was flat out inflating. He seemed oblivious to it. It had to be the Superpump. James had taken more of it than I did, so he was getting a greater effect. Combine that with his superior muscle building genetics and… James let the weight fall and sat up on the bench. “God! This fucking pump is unbelievable! And I feel like I could lift all night!” My cock sprung to attention. It was the fasted boner I had ever had, going from flaccid to turgid in the time it took James to utter his sentence. I quickly adjusted it, hoping he hadn’t seen the pitched tent in my sweats. “You know, I’m not sure that’s a normal pump.” “What do you mean?” James looked at me expectantly. “I think that Superpump is making you physically grow.” “Get the fuck outta here.” He laughed. “You can’t physically grow more mass by a noticeable amount in less than an hour. There’s laws of physics and shit.” “Didn’t the Russian say it worked like magic?” “Figure of speech,” James said, dismissively. “How much did you weigh this morning?” “190.” He said. “There’s a scale over there. Weigh yourself.” He stared blankly at me, then shook his head. “Ok, just to prove you wrong.” He rose, and I could see his cobra back was pushing his arms away from his side. He stepped on the scale and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “210!” “210!” I repeated. “A full 20 pounds more.” “No way!” He hopped off the scale and began looking himself over in the mirror, flexing, poking, and rubbing. Then he peeled off his sweat soaked tank, revealing the divine sight of his brick-like abs. “Fuuck!” I said aloud. My hardon was painful, stretched to its limits, rising above my waistband onto my stomach. “Fuck is right, dude. The Russian said that stuff was like magic and he wasn’t lying. This is incredible.” James was clearly infatuated with his own body. He nipples had swollen, looking like hard little pacifiers, pushed downward by the bulk of his pecs. A bulge was growing in his sweats, snaking down his left thigh, thick as a toilet paper tube. God! Everything about him was perfect! Then a though struck me. “James, It’s obviously the working out that’s activating the Superpump. So how about we keep going and see just how big you can get?” “I like the way you think, man.” And so, James continued lifting, more and more reps with more and more weights, until he had maxed out every machine and lifted the heaviest dumb-bells. Several times I caught myself absentmindedly stroking my raging hardon through my sweats, but James was so focused on his own growth that he never seemed to notice. After an hour of intense pumping James’ body was nearly unrecognizable. Just mounds upon mounds of striated veiny muscle fighting for space on his frame. His legs had grown so large his sweats now looked like legging stretched tight across his shelf-like glutes and quads like loafs of bread pressed together. The growth had stopped and I suggested he weigh himself. He was all too eager. He swaggered over to the scale and stepped on it. 260 lbs. of solid beef. I nearly fainted. James began flexing, smiling widely as I looked him over. The finest specimen of a man I had ever laid eyes upon. “Well come on dude and have a feel,” James said. “And not like you grabbed my bicep before. Really feel me up. I know you want to.” “Whaa?” I temporarily lost the ability to speak. “I’ve got two working eyes you know. You’ve been eyeing my muscles, practically salivating, for the longest time, even before we got down here. And that hardon! Dude, you know if they last this long your supposed to call a doctor.” He laughed. I blushed. “Are you asking me to worship your muscles?” “It’s what you want isn’t it?” Jason grabbed his sweats and with one quick yank pulled them off revealing his stunning legs. He tossed the torn fabric aside. “It’s alright.” I placed a hand on each pec. He bounced them. The vibration of those thick slabs of meat was enough to send waves of pleasure through me. The size. The power. It was all so much and it was all in my grasp. My fantasy had come to life by way of some magic. As the world outside descended into chaos my world in here was perfect. My hands wandered to the mounds of his shoulders and squeezed the hard muscle. “I’m so fucking horny,” James said. “Suck my nipples.” I did, taking his tender nipples into my mouth, tasting his salty skin, caressing his pecs with my tongue. He moaned in pleasure. His strong arms enveloped me. “We’ve got two weeks of quarantine,” James said. “Just you and me and the rest of that container of Superpump. I think I finally know what we’re gonna be doing.”
  7. And now, the conclusion... Thirty-Six: Aron The day of Edmund’s bodybuilding competition had arrived. Aron walked beside him into the show venue, carrying a bag of snacks, Gatorade, spray tan, posing trunks, and, oddly, nonstick cooking spray. Aron was surprised when Edmund had asked him to pack it. “Do you plan on cooking in the hotel?” Aron had asked “No.” Edmund laughed. “Cooking spray is bodybuilder’s trick. Make’s you glisten and shine on stage like a polished bronze statue.” Edmund carried a bag, as well. It contained two 25 pound weights and some resistance bands. He had told Aron, they often didn’t have enough weights back stage for all the competitors to pump up with so he liked to bring his own. “But you can curl way more than 25’s,” Aron had said. “Light weight, and high reps is best for pumping up. I’ll probably do 50 reps on each arm. Couldn’t do that with 55’s,” Edmund replied. Aron was learning so much about this experience that he never knew. He thought you lifted weight, ate a lot, got big, then ate less, got lean, threw on a coat of spray tan and stepped on stage. In the crunch time leading up to the big day, however, Aron saw how much planning and detail went into it and how important timing was. After the club’s erotic encounter with Steven, Edmund went into very strict no carb diet. He wouldn’t even touch fruit. Everything Aron gave him had to be sugar free. His diet consisted of nothing but meat and vegetables. It was very easy food for Aron to prepare. Nothing like the intricate dishes he prepared for the rest of the club. Steam this. Grill that. Repeat. The fat fell off him. Aron didn’t think there was much fat to go after seeing how impressive he looked standing naked in Steven’s apartment, but his weight dropped and dropped. Around this time, Edmund also began eating more sodium. He told Aron it was to help fill his muscles with water, before depleting water later on. “You think I’m lean now. Wait three weeks,” Edmund had gloated. “You’ll see lean”. And Aron did see lean. After two weeks on the final, super low carb phase of his diet Edmund was completely shredded. Veins were visible all over his body, in places Aron didn’t even know veins could show. His abs! His Glutes! Aron could see muscle striations all over when he flexed. But Aron worried he was getting too small. At the peak of his bulk he was just over 240 pounds. Now he was just 215. “Don’t worry. I’ll actually gain weight before the competition.” Edmund reassured him. Aron also worried about the toll this diet was taking on him. His energy levels were very low, and he had frequent headaches. “No pain. No gain. That saying is not about bulking season. It’s about cutting,” Edmund had said after a grueling set of burpees. He collapsed on the couch, fatigued, and breathing heavy. His body fat was low single digits and with no carbs in his diet he just didn’t have it in him. Aron ran to get him food. Edmund pushed it away and demanded water. He was drinking a lot of water. A week and a half prior to the competition he stopped doing aggressive cardio, and a week before he stopped all weight training. Around this time, Edmund had told Aron to reduce his sodium content and he also began drinking less water, while upping his creatine consumption so the little water he was drinking would be forced into his muscles. Three days before the show Edmund told Aron to start feeding him carb’s again. A little bit, he specified. The last time Aron made love to Edmund before they traveled down state to their hotel just outside of the show’s venue Edmund’s skin felt thin in his hands as he rubbed them over his rock-solid muscles. All his subcutaneous fat was gone and his muscles were a little fuller than they had been. The night before the competition Edmund had given Aron some money and told him to go to the nearest takeout place. He wanted carbs and more water. “Are you sure?” Aron asked. “I’m sure. Last year I didn’t carb up enough. Not this year. And make sure they don’t put any salt on it.” Aron came back with French fries and pasta, and a gallon jug of water. “Remember I said that I would gain weight before the show. Well…” Edmund grabbed a handful of French fries and shoved them into his mouth. He hadn’t had French fries in months. “I though the cheat meal came after the show.” Aron joked. “My cheat meal will make this look like a light snack,” Edmund said with his mouth full. After Edmund finished his late-night feast Aron applied the first coat of spray tan to him and let it dry. Edmund sipped on the water for the rest of the night. The next morning, he weighed 220 pounds, right where he wanted to be. “You know I’m glad to have you,” Edmund said. “Bianca helped me last year. She was good, but your great.” Aron blushed As he walked beside Edmund into the venue, he played those words over in his head: ‘You’re great’. He had never felt so useful to anyone in his life, nor as complete as when he was with Edmund. He looked up at him and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. That physique was partly his doing. After they signed in and Edmund handed in his posing routine music, A young man directed them to the back-stage area. Aron had managed to get a quick glimpse of the audience. They filled the auditorium, a mix a men and women of all ages. He wondered how many were the family and friends of the competitors and how many were just muscle-obsessed fanboys like himself, there to take in the beautiful physiques soon to grace the stage. Each competitor was allowed one assistant. Aron was Edmund’s. Some bought their trainers or girlfriends. They made their way to the men’s side of the backstage area. Large dividers separated the men from the women. Aron thought his cock might poke a hole in his pants. It went so hard so fast at the sight of the room filled with muscle men. The teens had their corner. Boys younger than 18, yet so developed. Edmund was with the juniors. They were bigger than the teens but all still very young looking. There was also a section with older men, who were the largest most developed competitors. All around him men pumped up with weights and pushups, flexed for their trainers, applied tan and bronzer. Aron almost forgot he was there for Edmund until he saw a bottle of tanner flash before his eyes. Edmund dangled it in front of him. He had changed into a throw-away pair of trunks he used when applying tan so he wouldn’t stain his posers. “Time for the second coat,” Edmund said. Aron began to dab small dots of the brown, thick, cream all over him, being careful to not use too much and to apply it evenly, just as Edmund had instructed him. After he was done rubbing him down Edmund stood and let the tan dry. He looked like pure perfection to Aron, like he had been cast by an artist. The tan bought out his definition and made his muscles pop. As Edmund dried, he chatted with some of the other competitors. They complimented each other. It was apparent Edmund knew some of them from his last competition and others he was meeting for the first time. Aron caught some competitors staring. He wondered if they were jealous, sizing him up, or if they had somehow heard about the club and recognized Edmund and him. He quickly dismissed that idea, though. They were over a hundred miles from campus. The women competed first. When they were done, they called the teens first in the men’s division. A short, dark haired 16-year-old won with ease. He was miles beyond the other competitors, and that was say a lot considering they all looked good. The Juniors were to go next. Edmund began to pump up as late as they would allow before moving the competitors into position. He wanted the pump to be as fresh as possible. Aron watched as the veins on his arms popped out, as his muscles filled with blood. He seemed to grow before his eyes. When he was done, Edmund did a most muscular pose for Aron and shouted “I love that feeling! Being pumped!” Aron sprayed a little cooking spray on him and rubbed it in. Then Edmund went off the line up with the other competitors. A woman pinned a number nine onto Edmund’s black posers. Looking at Edmund and the other 11 competitors from the side Aron couldn’t say for sure if he had the biggest muscles in the group (he was too muscle drunk from looking at half naked men all morning), but he was certainly the best conditioned and best proportioned. Edmund also had the biggest bulge of any competitor. Come to think of it, Aron thought, that’s probably what some of the guys had been staring at. Aron heard the announcer speak and darted to take a seat in the audience. He wanted to see each competitor’s posing routine from the front. Each competitor was introduced, they did a posing routine and then exited the stage opposite the side they entered on. They were all smiles, waving at the crowd, and just exuded confidence all around. When Edmund’s name was called, he swaggered on to the stage. His held his arms slightly raised to accentuate his lats at all times. He bent down on one knee and lowered his head dramatically. Then the music he had selected began to play: Now We Are Free, from Gladiator. It was both epic and beautiful, and set his routine apart from his competitors. He moved with such flow and rythmn, holding each pose for a moment before moving on to the next. Many of the competitors made the mistake of moving too fast like they were rushing to get off stage. Their faster paced music reflected this. Not Edmund, though. He seemed at home on the stage, under the bright lights, a natural born showman, perhaps too much so. Aron noticed his bulge was growing. He was getting a full-blown erection on stage! Aron knew he often got sexually exited when he flexed, but didn’t think it would happen on stage. Aron slid down in his seat feeling embarrassed for Edmund, though the muscle god didn’t look embarrassed at all. How can those little posers contain that thing? Please get off the stage before that monster reaches its full size. And as if Edmund had heard Aron’s thought’s his posing routine was over. He waved at the crowd and walked off the stage. Aron rose in his seat again. Three more competitors performed their routines and then came the pose down. All the competitors came on stage and performed the mandatory posed when prompted by the judges. Now was the time to really compare their physiques. Edmund’s arms, and shoulder’s were clearly the best. Number 2 had the most perfect set of abs Aron had ever seen. Number 11 had the biggest legs. Number 5 had the most defined back. Number 7 had amazing pecs. Aron realized how hard it would be for the judges to pick a winner. To him they were all amazing. The judges then let the competitors have a little fun. They could all walk the stage, move in front of each other and flex however they liked. The audience started called out names and Aron joined in calling “Edmund! Go Edmund! Wooo!” as loud as his lungs would allow him. He wished The whole club could be here to root for Edmund, but Daniel was at his weightlifting meet 150 miles away. Brendon was his support, and Thomas was Brendon’s. Aron decided to scream loud enough for all of them. He watched as Edmund moved in front of number 11, blocking the audience’s view of him. Then number 7 did the same to Edmund. Edmund stepped from between them and looked at number 7’s pecs. He then did a side chest pose. Number 7 mirrored him. Then 1 and 8 stepped in front of them both and did a front double bicep and most muscular respectively. Edmund squeezed between them and did a rear lat spread. It was a flexing free for all. The announcer asked all of the competitors to line up in number order 1 to 6 on the left side of the stage,7 to 12 on the right. Between them a stand was moved into place with three level areas for the three top competitors. Three scantily clad women bounced on to stage each carrying a trophy for first, second and third place. The announcer walked on to the stage. His hair was gray, but be was clearly built like a brick house under his suit. The wonders of TRT. He appeared to be a retired bodybuilder. He thanked the audience and the competitors and asked for a round of applause for them. The announcer read from a card in his hand. “Third place goes to number 2, Jason Benoist!” A woman handed him his trophy. He took a bow, shook the announcer’s hand and stood on the lowest part of the platform. “Second place goes to number 7, Ezra Tyler!” Ezra jumped up and pumped his fist. He took his trophy and leaned in to the announcer’s microphone. “Thank you!” he shouted. The announcer seemed surprised by this, and pointed him in the direction of the winner’s stand with a smile. Ezra ran to it and took his spot on the second level. “And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for. First place goes to…” He paused for dramatic effect. Aron leaned forward with anticipation. Edmund looked at the announcer, expectantly. “Number 9, Edmund Moreno!” Steven jumped up at the sound of his lover’s name. Edmund closed his eyes and opened his mouth. He stepped forward and took his trophy, the biggest one, and did a most muscular pose for the crowd. They cheered. He looked like he was smiling so hard his face would spit open. He shook the announcer’s hand and slowly ascended the stand to the highest position. He held the trophy above his head and the other competitors followed suit. Aron clapped so hard his hands began to hurt. He felt like a proud father. Suddenly a little man ran on stage and whispered in the announcer’s ear. The old bodybuilder’s eyes grew wide and he hit his forehead with his palm. The little man glanced briefly at the crowd before darting off stage. What’s going on? Aron wondered as the announcer raised his hands and asked the cheering crowd to be silent. “Please, please,” he said “I’m so sorry. I still may have the body of a young man, but these old eyes aren’t what they used to be.” The audience laughed. “I’ve made a mistake with score card,” He continued. Edmund’s smile disappeared. “It seems second place actually goes to number 9, Edmund Moreno. First place goes number seven, Ezra Tyler!” He motioned to the competitors as the show women guided Edmund and Tyler to trade places and exchange trophies. Aron’s heart sank. He had never seen Ed look so disappointed, but he quickly put on a fake smile for the crowd as he held up his second-place trophy. When Aron ran back stage he grabbed Edmund around the torso and squeezed. “You’re still the best!” Aron shouted. Edmund leaned down and kissed him square on the lips. “To bad you aren’t one of the judges,” Edmund said. “Here.” He handed the trophy to Aron. It was heavy. “They must have been blind.” Aron looked at the trophy in his hands. It had a silver colored bodybuilder doing a double biceps pose on top. “Nah,” Edmund said, “Ezra had a killer physique and I still beat out 9 other competitors. That’s still something to celebrate. Last year I came in third so I’m headed in the right direction. He performed a double biceps pose, emulating the trophy. “How do you want to celebrate?” Aron asked. “We’ll celebrate with the club when we get back, but right now…” Edmund leaned in to Aron’s ear. “A blowjob would be nice.” Aron looked down at Edmund’s posers and smiled. He could see his cock was still semi-hard. “With pleasure,” Aron said. As they walked toward the restroom, a middle-aged blonde man in grey slacks and a white shirt, called out to them, “Mr. Moreno.” Aron and Ed turned. The gentleman jogged up to them and introduced himself as Darren Beaumont, one of the judges. “I just want to say you were spectacular out there. You won in every judges’ eyes.” Edmund raised an eyebrow at that. “Then why didn’t he get first place?” Aron asked, in an irritated tone. “You’re name.” Darren said. “What about it?” Edmund looked at him confused. Aron, too, had a confused look on his face. “One of the judges has a daughter that goes to your University. He heard about your, uh, club, on parent’s day and recognized your name the second you were called out. He didn’t agree with it. He said such a person would be a bad ambassador for the sport and would get no high score from him. Most of the judges rated you first and Ezra second but his low score bought your average down just enough that Ezra won.” “I haven’t seen the official score card yet,” Edmund said. “How far behind was I?” “One point behind,” Said the judge. “I’m telling you just so you don’t lose faith. Your loss had nothing to do with your physique, which is exceptional. Bodybuilding is a subjective sport and sometimes a competitor fails because of someone’s poor opinion. Not all judges are like that. Most of us, like myself, believe it should be all about the physique. You do have a future in this sport young man and I know you’ll go on to win many competitions. Don’t give up.” Edmund smiled. “I’m not. My goal is to be the biggest and the best bodybuilder in the world and I’m going to do it.” Darren nodded his head. “Lofty goal. I like it.” He and Edmund shook hands and parted ways. Aron had thought the club was done with the consequences of Steven’s actions, but some people make waves that keep on going long after they, themselves, have stopped. Thirty-Seven: Brendon He put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder and squeezed. “You got this,” he said. “I got this.” Daniel repeated the words, slowly, in a low tone. Brendon wasn’t sure his friend believed them. Daniel held his head low. His eyes were closed. Was he praying or just mentally preparing himself? It was the day of the powerlifting meet. The day Brendon had prepared to walk into The Carson Weightlifting Center a competitor, side by side with Daniel. Instead he entered as Daniel’s trainer and moral support. Brendon had missed two months of training after his back injury. When he started to feel better, he had hopes of putting his name back in the lineup and going on an aggressive training regimen to make up for lost time. He realized that was a pipe-dream however. He was too far behind in his training and the signup deadline had passed. He had lost so much strength during his recovery that he was sure Daniel was nearly as strong as him. He decided it wasn’t worth competing if he couldn’t bring his A-game. Thomas had voiced his disapproval of the idea as well, saying Brendon should take it easy and come back next year to ‘obliterate the competition.’ Brendon had decided if he couldn’t win, then it was Daniel’s job to win for the both of them, but he didn’t tell Daniel this directly for fear of putting too much pressure on his shoulders. Instead he pushed his friend to the limits, every training session. When Daniel said he couldn’t lift any more weight Brendon added ten pounds. When he said, he couldn’t do another rep he told him to go for two. Daniel kept up his eating as well and grew to an impressive 250 powerful pounds. In the weeks leading up to the meet Brendon was Daniel’s coach, physical therapist, dietician, and cheerleader. All the work he had put into himself he began to throw at Daniel. He made him test his one rep maxes with regularity and decided they needed to stop their old practice of doing it all in one day. That was skewing the results. Each day was devoted to a different lift. One week out from the meet put Daniel on a deload to insure his muscles were fully recovered before the competition. During that weak they did foam rolling, mobility work, core exercises, and bodyweight exercises. Daniel’s squat went up to 520. His bench was 475. His deadlift was 650, and his clean and jerk was 325. Was it enough? Brendon hoped so, but he knew Daniel would be competing against some of the best college-aged lifters in the state. He hoped Daniel would find some hidden strength deep inside of him when the time came. Daniel entered the Carson center first, followed by Brendon and Thomas. They each carried a bag. Daniel’s was the largest since it contained his clothing and equipment. All three carried an assortment of snacks, sandwiches, and beverages. The meet would take all day and no one wanted to leave the center to get a meal. Danel signed in at a table setup in the main lobby. He was competing in the Junior Men’s, age 20-23, 264 lb (120 Kg) weight class, raw division (raw meaning no use of a squat suit or bench shirt). Brendon had voiced some concern about his weight class early on. Since Daniel was between the 231 and 264 weight classes Brendon suggested that he try to shed as much water weight and fat as possible before the weigh in so he might make it into the 231 pound weight class. “What if I fall just short of 231?” Daniel had asked. “If I’m just one pound over 231 they’ll put me in the 264-weight class anyway, then I would have put myself through the stress of cutting weight for nothing.” “I’m sure I can get you down,” Brendon replied. But Daniel was adamant. He didn’t want to risk it. “I feel stronger when I weigh more, anyway,” he had said, and that was the end of that. After signing in Daniel went to the men’s room and changed into his lifting clothes: Black Converse All Stars with high socks to protect his shins, and a black singlet, or as Brendon liked to call them, a wedgie suit. They were uncomfortable, but required for all competitors. Daniel kept his gear (a weightlifting belt, wrist straps, and knee sleeves} in his bag. He would put those on when needed. Thomas pointed to the list of events. “I don’t see clean and jerk up there.” “That’s ’cus it’s not one of the events,” Brendon replied. “Only squat, bench, and deadlift.” “Then why do you two practice it?” “It’s a full body workout, and it’s hella fun.” Brendon laughed. “Besides it’s an impressive lift to do so I don’t feel right ignoring it.” “I’m going to eat a little something them start warming up. First event’s in 1 hour and 15 minutes,” Daniel said. Brendon and Thomas joined him, eating one of their sandwiches, while Daniel ate a power bar with a Gatorade. Then it was off to the warm up section. The event planners had setup a large open area with stations for stretching, squatting, bench press, and deadlifting. Despite the size of the room it still felt cramped with all of the big, burly men and their teams jostling for space at the different stations. Some of the men in the highest weigh classes, must have weighed over 300 pounds. They made even Brendon feel small. It wasn’t often that Brendon got to be around so many men on his level or greater. Brendon looked at Thomas and could see his eyes had grown wide at the sight of this many powerlifters in one spot. The clanking of massive weight interspersed with the sound of aggressive grunting. The thick, wide bodies, with their muscle guts and hairy chests. Thomas must be in heaven. Brendon saw his lover adjust his cock and immediately knew he was. The first event was going to be the Squat, so that is what Daniel warmed up with. After putting on his knee sleeves, he stretched and, starting with a very low 200 pounds, performed 12 reps. When the blood was flowing Brendon helped him up the weight to 400. Daniel performed 5 reps at that weight. “Want to make it 450?” Brendon asked. “Yeah,” Daniel replied. He performed three reps at that weight. “Ok, that’s it,” Brendon said. “Now you rest until they call you.” A half an hour after warm-up the Squat event was called. Competitors and their teams filed into gymnasium one. There were six gymnasiums and two auditoriums in the center, as well as 4 stations setup outside to accommodate every weight class, age group, sex, and division competing that day. Brendon and Daniel got their first good look at the competition as they all gathered around the squat rack. There were seven competitors in Daniel’s weight. A few were his height, but most were shorter. Brendon worried the shorter competitors might have an advantage over Dan with their thicker bodies and shorter limbs. One by one competitors made their first squat attempts. The crowd cheered after each attempt. “So how does this work?” Thomas asked, clearly confused. “It doesn’t seem like their struggling.” “This is just the first try,” Brendon said. “They have two more. Everybody starts out low and works their way up.” “And those lights.” Thomas pointed to an array of lights on the other side of the room. “Those represent the judges scores for each lift,” Brendon replied. “Red means it was a bad lift. White means a good lift. There are three judges so you need at least two white lights for the lift to pass. I though you heard them explain all this.” “I guess I was too busy ogling the competitors.” Thomas snickered. When Daniel’s name was called sixth, Brendon whispered in his ear, “40 lbs less than your last max.” Then he patted him on the back. “Go Dan!” Daniel performed one squat with 480 pounds. “That was easy,” He said as he walked back. It was easy as well as on the lighter side. Most of the competitors first attempts were closer to 500. After 20 minutes, it was time for the second attempts. Most competitors added 20 to 30 pounds for this lift, but Daniel added 40 bringing his second attempt to 520 pounds. That number put him in the middle of the pack. Another 20 minutes passed and the third attempts were called. “This is where you really push yourself,” Brendon said. “How high do you think I should go?” Daniel asked “Depends on how you’re feeling.” “I’m feeling strong.” “Then aim high,” Brendon said. “but remember don’t get hurt.” Daniel went for 550. He crouched down under the bar and rested it on his shoulders. He rose and walked forward with slow steady steps. His body swayed slightly. Brendon looked him dead in the eyes and nodded. Then Daniel lowered himself and the weight down with perfect form. As he rose, however, Brendon could see his knees quake. Oh God, don’t fall. Daniel seemed to pause half way up. Brendon glanced at the judges. Their faces were stern, their stares were intense. It looked as if Daniel might tip to one side but with a quick jerk he locked out the lift and re-racked the weight. His face was red from exertion. “Yeah!” Brendon shouted. “Go Dan!” Thomas exclaimed. After the third attempts were completed it and the final competitor failed to squat an impressive weight it was clear which competitors were going to be Daniels main competition. There was an Asian guy with huge legs who squatted 585, the highest number. Brendon took to calling him ‘Tree Trunks’. There was a tall red head who managed 560. Brendon called him ‘Red’. Then there was black guy with a huge gut, but ripped arms who managed 575. Brendon called him ‘Tubs’. There was one and half hours before the next event, bench press, so the three club members ate again. This time it was Daniel who had a sandwich (he had worked up an appetite), While Thomas and Brendon ate a power bar. As they ate, they discussed the competition, and the next event. “I think the Asian guy is your hardest competition,” Thomas said “Definitely on the squat,” Brendon said. “Possibly on the deadlift due to how short he is, but not on the bench. His upper body is not that impressive. He looks like he carries most of his weight in his legs. For the bench it’s Red you gotta worry about. His chest is very developed. I can tell he benches a lot.” “What about the black guy?” Daniel said. “Did you see his arms. Benching is almost as much about arms as it is chest.” “Tubs is definitely second after Red,” Brendon said. When they finished eating Daniel warmed up and then they heard the announcement for the Bench press. The competitors filed into gymnasium three and took their seats off to the side. Brendon had been right about Tree Trunks. He was all lower body and only managed 460 on the bench press, making for one of the less impressive weights. He walked away from the bench shaking his head, clearly embarrassed that he had performed so poorly after such an impressive squat. Red managed an impressive 490, and Tubs pushed 485. On Dan’s first attempt he pushed 440. On his second attempt, he did 475, and for his final attempt he managed 495. Daniel had managed the highest Bench! Brendon grabbed him and shook him with excitement. If he didn’t win the overall, then at least he would walk away with the award for benching. “I think I could have got 500,” Daniel said. “Maybe, but 495 is 20 more than you’ve ever done,” Brendon said, reassuringly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” The final event was the deadlift and that was the event where most lifters carried their most weight. It was still anybody’s game to win. Brendon took out his phone and did some quick calculations, adding the highest bench and squat for each competitor. Dan was tied with Tree Trunks at 1045. Red had 1050, and Tubs had 1060. Brandon was impressed how close the top four competitors were. After another 1 and a half hours, a third snack, and the final warmup it was time for the last event. The most Daniel had ever Dead lifted was 650 pounds. That would get him the top prize if the other competitors all did 20 pounds less than that, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Daniel was going to have to go much higher than 650 to win this. The Deadlift was held in Gymnasium Four. The competitors gathered around the deadlifting platform. Brendon caught Tree Trunks staring at Daniel. He must know they are tied. Most competitors pulled 600 or less on their first attempts, except for Tree Trunks, who managed 630. For the second attempts, they began to show their true strength. Tubs pulled 630. Red managed 640, and Tree Trunks pulled 670. Daniel pulled 650. “I told you the Asian guy was going to be your toughest competition,” Thomas said. “Yeah,” Brendon said. “What he lacks on the bench he makes up for with his deadlift. I was expecting you to top out at 680, but now that won’t be enough. If his second attempt was 670 he should be able to pull 690 on his third attempt.” “690. Damn!” Daniel exclaimed. Daniel paused and shook his head, then he looked Brendon dead in the eyes. “Whatever he pulls, I’m pulling more, that’s it.” “That’s the spirit,” Brendon said. On his third attempt Tree Trunks pulled 695. That was a full 45 pounds more than Daniel had ever done. Tubs did 660 and Red pulled 685. “695,” Brendon said. “Five more than I thought.” “I’m putting 700,” Daniel said as he walked to the bar. Brendon and Thomas looked at each other. Thomas mouthed out: 700 pounds. Brendon nodded slowly. 700 pounds. Daniel stood behind the bar. He stared down at it with a look of pure determination. He clapped his hands together and a cloud of chalk formed in front of him. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He took several deep breaths which Brendon felt like he was sharing with him. Daniel bent down and grasped the bar in the standard reverse grip, one hand over the bar and the other under the bar. His back was level. His legs shoulder width. His arms straight. Perfect form. Daniel pulled the weight up, but it was no good. He was struggling to pull himself straight and lockout to finish the movement. Thomas erroneously began to celebrate, thinking Daniel had succeeded, because he lifted the weight. “No!” Brendon shouted. “He has to do the complete movement and he has to do it right.” Thomas immediately stopped clapping. “Come on Dan!” Brendon said. “You can do this!” Daniel’s entire body shook, veins and tendon’s in his neck popped out. His skin was beet red. Then his legs began to straighten and he pulled his back up into a completely upright position. Daniel had locked it out! “Yes!” Brendon jumped up. He felt like he was out there on the mat. Now don’t drop it. Lower it. Daniel lowered the weigh back down to the mat keeping his hands on the bar until it was completely down. “That’s it!” Brendon shouted. He grabbed Thomas and kissed him. Daniel collapsed to his knees and threw his hands up victoriously. The crowd erupted into cheers. Tree Trunks had a frown on his face but the other competitors looked impressed. That lift gave Daniel an overall number of 1745 pounds, to Tree Trunks’ 1740. Daniel ran to Brendon and Thomas. They embraced him. There was one more lifter to go but he didn’t matter. Daniel had won overall in his weight class by 5 pounds. He received two trophies at the Awards ceremony, one for bench press, and one for highest total. As they left the Carson Center all of their phones vibrated at the same time. “It’s a text from Edmund,” Daniel said. “He came in second out of 11.” “Not bad,” Thomas said, looking at his phone. “He was third last year. That’s a win for him as far as I’m concerned.” “The Muscle Gut Club is unstoppable,” Brendon said with pride. He threw one arm around Daniel and the other around Thomas. Together, they walked to the train station, excited, and ready to celebrate with Edmund and Aron. Thirty-Eight: Aron He sat in his dorm room, phone in hand. His father was on the other end. “Can you put mom on.” “I’m sorry son, she’s still upset. She still can’t get over what she saw online.” Aron felt like he should be crying. He could. He was absolutely alone in his dorm room. If he wanted to burst into tears no one would see, but he didn’t. Aron wasn’t sad enough to cry. He was angry. The last time he spoke to his mother was that windy April day when she visited for Parent’s Day. He couldn’t believe a mother would reject her son the way she did, though he had heard the coming out horror stories of others. His father, while unapproving, was nice enough to at least try to have a normal relationship with his son. “Did you try talking to her,” Aron asked. “I did. You know I did. I told her we could go to family counseling,” Mr. Ocampo said. “She said no amount of counseling would-” Aron heard silence. “Would what, dad?” “Would take the devil out of her son.” Aron heard his father’s voice crack. Was he about to cry? Aron wanted to throw his phone to the ground right then and there. She thinks I’m the devil. “And there’s one more thing son. She doesn’t want you living here anymore. But don’t worry. I put my foot down to that. I told her at the end of the school year I was going to pick you up, alone, and drive you home-” “No!” Aron said. “I’m not living with her if she doesn’t want me there.” “But this is your home.” Mr. Ocampo pleaded “Home is with people who love you. I have a home here at school.” Aron hoped he had a home at school. He wasn’t sure what would happen to the club house when the school year ended, but hoped he could live in it over the summer. He would ask the club at that evening’s celebration cheat meal. “Son-” “Goodbye. Please don’t come to pick me up. I love you, and if you want to, tell her that I love her too.” He put his phone down. After he said the words, he wasn’t sure if he loved her or not, but it felt good to say them. Aron arrived at the club house at 5:30pm that evening. The sun high on the horizon and though it was still spring, summer was in the air. It was 85 degrees F and not expected to dip below 70 that night. He opened the door with his key and entered the living room. He found the club seated, having a casual chat. They were dressed nicely in their standard going out fair, Dark jeans, and tight shirts. Their hair was perfectly combed and groomed. They looked good. Very good. Aron couldn’t help but notice how much bigger they all were compared to the first day he met them. It seemed like years ago. They had been through so much together, but it had only been 10 months! “Are we walking?” Aron asked. “Nah,” Said Brendon. “We called a cab. We’re going all the way across town.” “What place did you guys decide on?” “Miss Ling’s, that new Chinese buffet,” Edmund said. “It’s supposed to be amazing, and the selection, well Brendon could eat 12 plates and not try everything.” “Then I’ll just have to go for 13.” Brendon laughed, but he clasped his hands together in such a way that Aron knew he was 100% serious. “We got something for you,” Edmund said. “You’ll need it tonight.” He held out his hand. In it was a card. Aron took it and looked it over. It was a fake id. “We going to a bar?” Aron asked. “Hell, yeah, I haven’t had alcohol in four months,” Edmund replied. The club laughed. The cab came and picked them up and in 20 minutes they were being seated at Miss Ling’s. They requested a spacious private booth in the back and were readily accommodated. Miss Ling’s was like no Chinese buffet Aron had ever been in. It was fancy enough in décor to rival a five-star restaurant and the food selection could rival a Las Vegas casino. Thomas raised his shirt revealing his chiseled six-pack. “Hey Ed let’s say good bye to them right now,” He said with a grin. Edmund raised his shirt as well and they ran their hands up and down their washboards. “Good bye guys.” The club wasted no time filling their plates at the buffet. Aron worried their shirt’s might be too tight. He imagined them hulking out of their clothes at the table as they ate more and more. Then his cock became hard at the thought of how sexy that would be. The club used their usual method of getting two plates at a time. Aron found he was eating more now than the first time he went to a buffet with the club. He was no longer a skeletal 100 pounds, and his new 120-pound body could take in more calories. The club made little time for talking as they ate. The only sounds coming from the booth were the sounds of chewing, forks and knives on ceramic, mm mms, and the occasional seat creaking. Finally, when they were done feasting and they sat, rubbing their distended bellies it was time for conversation. Aron was first to speak. “Guys. I have an announcement.” All club member eyes were on him. “I won’t be going home at the end of the semester.” The club members looked at each other. “Oh,” Edmund said, adjusting himself straight in the booth. It looked like he wanted to speak, but he rested his hand on his belly instead and groaned. “Looks like someone’s stomach shrunk during their cut,” Brendon said. “Where will you be staying?” said Daniel. “Well, that’s why I’m bringing it up,” Aron said. “I was wondering what do you guys do with the club house. Do you stop paying rent and move out-”? “Let me stop you there,” Brendon said. “If you want to stay at the club house over the summer that will be fine. You can keep me company.” “You stay there over the summer?” Aron said, surprised. “Yeah, and the rest of the club comes by and visits from time to time.” “Is this about your parents?” Edmund forced out. Aron nodded in reply. Edmund nodded back. “In a way, you’re part of the club,” Brendon said. “Our house is your house.” The club member’s all patted Aron on the shoulder and shook him, playfully. He felt like he had a new family. “Well!” Edmund exclaimed. “Sitting here is no good. I’ll fall asleep. Let’s go for a walk before heading to the bar and let this food settle. They left Miss Ling’s at 8 and walked into the crisp night air. After walking through the downtown area for two hours, talking, and horsing around they decided it was time to drink. Aron hadn’t done much drinking this past school year, but he imagined he’d be getting drunk that night. Brendon suggested The Phoenix Nightclub, citing their extensive bar, and the rest of the club agreed. They lined up at the door, were carded by a fat, bald man in leather who hardly looked at the IDs. Inside the music was blasting. “Bar’s upstairs. It’s a little quieter up there,” Brendon said in a raised voice. As the club reached the stairs a black woman appeared from behind the curtain. She embraced Brendon in a hug. “Guys this is Jada,” Brendon said. “And Jada, this is-” “They need no introduction honey!” Jada exclaimed. “This is the rest of The Muscle Gut Club.” She offered her hand to each of the club members and Aron. “I have seen some of your videos and they are smokin’.” She fanned herself with her hand in an exaggerated manner. “And might I say you all are as fine in clothes as out of them. Even you, cutie.” She poked Aron on the nose. “I like this chick,” Edmund said. Jada did a slight curtsy. “So, what brings you celebrities to my establishment?” “Celebrating.” “Alright, now. I have ecstasy, weed, women, men.” “That sounds great but we’re here to drink-” Edmund began. “What kind of women?” Daniel asked. “Oh yeah, you’re the straight one. I’ll hook you up later, but first let’s go up and get some drinks.” Jada sat the club at the end of the bar and told the bar tender to start pouring. She placed a full shot glass in front of each club member. “So what are we celebrating?” Jada asked. “Weight lifting victory,” Said Daniel. “Bodybuilding win, kind of.” Edmund flexed his arms. “My back is finally back to normal,” Brendon said. “A sponsorship,” Thomas said. “Coming out and finding a place I belong,” Said Aron. They all raised their glasses and clanked them together before downing them in one gulp. Aron didn’t know what he was drinking, but it burned. For the next hour or so the club drank and chatted with Jada. They went into detail about Steven. How he revealed them to the campus and then how they got him to admit his homosexuality. Jada seemed to really enjoy that part. They each discussed their personal struggles and accomplishments as well, in bodybuilding, weightlifting, coming out and more. Jada was a great listener, and master conversationalist. By midnight the club was quite tipsy, but not drunk. Jada had moved on to schmoozing with her other clients, but not before sending up two girls to make-out with Daniel and give him a hand job. Jada did it free of charge, because Daniel was Brendon’s friend and she felt sorry for him losing his girlfriend the way he had. Edmund even got in on the action as well, making out with one of the girls. Aron didn’t care. He accepted his lover’s bisexuality, and besides, after his competition he deserved a little extra-curricular fun. After Daniel and Edmund had their fun the club left The Phoenix. Aron was light headed, and thought they were heading home, but Brendon said “The night’s still young, where to now boys?” Then Aron had an idea. Something he had always wanted to do, but never had the nerve to. He figured with the club as company, now would be as good a time as any. Might as well make this night one I’ll never forget. “Are there any Gay clubs around?” Aron asked. “I know a good one,” Thomas said, looking around at the other club members. “Hell, I’m game,” Brendon said. “Me too,” Edmund chimed in. “I’ve never been to a gay club before.” Daniel looked at the other club members, nervously. Brendon placed his arm around Daniel and said “Well, buddy, there’s a first time for everything.” Thomas lead them to an inconspicuous looking club not far from The Phoenix. A sign on the front said “The Peacock”. The only clue to the club’s true nature was a double Mars symbol on the bottom left corner of the sign. Inside, there was nothing inconspicuous about the place. It was colorful, it was bright. It was loud, and it was packed. Men in cages wearing nothing but boots and briefs danced in cages. Men in costumes lined the catwalks overhead sipping colorful drinks and chatting. Shirtless men with beautiful physiques and flawless skin served drinks behind the bar. The dance floor was filled with men fully clothed or half-naked of all shapes, sizes, and ages. They gyrated. The kissed. They seemed to be having a ball. “Well, what do you think?” Thomas said. “I think I’m in heaven,” Aron replied. The club laughed. They made their way to the bar and ordered a round of drinks. “Do I know you?” The bartender, a short well-proportioned Latino, asked Edmund. “I don’t think so.” “You all look familiar.” The bartender continued. “You come here often?” Edmund smiled. “Maybe you’ve seen our videos, online.” “Videos?” “Yeah, we’re The Muscle Gut Club,” Edmund said proudly. The bartender’s mouth dropped and his eyes grew wide. He turned around and tapped his co-worker firmly on his bare back. The co-worker spun around. “Whaaaat?”. Then he caught site of the club. He paused for a moment then blurted out “Holy shit! I masturbated to you guys last night.” “My name’s Juan,” Said the first bartender, as he extended a hand. “And I’m Sammy,” Said the second, also offering his hand. “Aren’t you guys hot in those shirts,” Juan said. The club members looked at each other and immediately took off their shirts, revealing their thick muscular bodies. Their bellies were bloated from a night of eating and drinking, but it only served to accentuate their powerful frames. The club drank and schmoozed with revelers who came by to meet them. They were invited to dance, but were very popular, and hardly got to dance with one guy for a minute before being pulled in the direction of another. Even Aron found himself the center of much attention when four burly daddy types began dancing around him all at once. Then Aron heard Edmund say “Holy shit!” He turned to face him. Edmund pulled Aron close and pointed to the other side of the bar. “Look who it is!” “Aron peered through the crowd of sweaty, pulsating bodies and saw Steven on the other side of the room. He was shirtless, kissing a muscular guy with dark features, much like his own, on a couch. He seemed oblivious to the world around him. They called Brendon, Daniel, and Thomas over to watch. “Well, someone’s certainly enjoying himself,” Brendon said. “Let’s go surprise him.” “Nah, he looks like he’s got his hands full,” Edmund said. “And mouth full,” Daniel japed. “You guys know Steven?” Juan seemed to appear out of nowhere. “We’ve hung out,” Edmund said, sharing a knowing look with the club. “He’s been a regular here for a few weeks. Hey, Steven!” Juan darted over to him, and pulled him over to the club. “You never told me you were friends with The Muscle Gut Club.” Steven smiled and averted his eyes from the club. “I don’t like to brag, Juan.” “How’s it going, buddy?” Brendon said, with a sly grin. “Great.” Steven said, and Aron believed him. He looked genuinely satisfied with life. The muscular guy he had been kissing stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are these the guys you told me about, babe?” He said. “Yes,” Steven said. “Guys this is my boyfriend, Jesse.” “Boyfriend, Good for you?” Edmund said. “You look happy.” “I am,” Steven said. “We are,” Jesse said, “and I hear we have you to thank for that, all of you.” “He told you what went on between us?” Brendon questioned, apprehensively. “Well he didn’t go into much detail,” Jesse looked at Steven, lovingly, “and I didn’t press him, but he did say that the Muscle Gut Club bought him out of his shell, and made him confront who he really was. If he never accepted who he was I wouldn’t have him now.” “Aww, how sweet,” Juan said. “Why don’t you all come over to the bar. Rounds on me.” Steven and his boyfriend sat and drank with the club. Then they all danced into the night. Before they left Aron offered up a final toast for the evening. “To new and old friends, to love and being true to yourself, to continued growth, both of body and spirit, and most of all to The Muscle Gut Club!” They clanked their glasses and drank. The End (Or maybe not. I have an idea for a sequel, but I have some ideas for fantasy stories I want to work on first)
  8. Thirty-Five: Steven He had watched the club give their talk to the Gay Student Union through a small window in the back of the room. They laughed, they joked, they flexed, of course. They didn’t seem bothered by what had happened at all, but how could that be? The muscle gut club were never showy or flamboyant. They kept to themselves and never seemed to want their activities known. They were happy to go through college as normal, inconspicuous students, so it seemed. Now they seemed to be enjoying the attention they were getting, both the good and the bad. How did I miscalculate so badly? Steven thought. They should be hating life right now. They should be ready to pack their bags and run! Then a thought crept into Steven’s mind as he sat down to eat his lunch, a baloney and cheese sandwich. No one posts videos of themselves online unless they like attention. The club had been satisfied with the distant, impersonal, online attention they received until I gave them a new source of attention: the campus. The idea made Steven sick. He hadn’t thought it through. Giving them more attention wouldn’t scare them away it would only feed their massive egos. Steven had helped to make the club more popular. Whatever hate they did receive as a result of his plan, they brushed off. Steven hit the dining table with his fist. A woman, who sat across the diner, looked at him, startled. He lowered his eyes and stared at his sandwich. He had only taken one bite of it, now he pushed it away. You’re so stupid, faggot. The voice filled his head. You thought you could defeat the club. “You told me to do it,” Steven whispered to himself. What kind of crazy person listens to strange voices in their head? Steven bolted up from his seat and left the Diner, leaving his sandwich behind. He needed to clear his head and thought a walk was in order. It was a beautiful sunny day. The weather was warm and people were coming out of their long sleeves and jackets. Steven caught sight of a tall lean man in a tank top. He had the look of someone who worked out and a body that Steven envied. The man turned to him and Steven quickly averted his eyes. It seemed everywhere he went Steven noticed good looking guys with bodies he desired. He was finding it harder to resist his urges. He caught himself staring and fantasizing, their bodies grew larger, bulkier, and more striated in his mind and their faces morphed into those of the club. They stared at him with sexy piercing eyes. Dammit, I need to get home. Steven speed-walked to his knew apartment on the outskirts of town. As he approached his front door, he saw a short person with a hoodie on, obscuring his face. Steven darted up to the entrance. The person stood in front of the door. “Excuse me,” Steven said. “You’re excused,” said a familiar voice. The figure removed their hood. It was Aron! He smiled. Steven frowned. If Aron was there that could only mean one thing: the club had found him. “What are you doing here?” Steven said after a brief moment of silence. “I’m here with a message from the club.” “What message?” Steven scoffed. “Thank you.” Steven was confused for a moment. ‘Thank you’. “Thank you for what?” “Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything you put them through. Thank you for making them stronger and more successful as a club,” Aron said. “Oh please. If they wanted to thank me, they could do it in person. Now go away.” “You don’t have to hate yourself,” Aron said. “You can be who you truly are.” “I am…who I am. I don’t hate myself.” Steven’s voice quivered as he tried to push out the lie. “Now go away!” “The club wants to give you a gift.” “I don’t want their gift!” Steven shot back. I want them. Steven opened the door, stepped inside and slammed it in Aron’s face. He stormed up the flight of stairs and ran into his apartment. When he turned on the lights, Steven couldn’t believe his eyes. There, sitting on his sofa, was Edmund, Brendon, Daniel, and Thomas. “Did you know there are videos online that teach you how to pick locks,” Edmund said with a smile. “You’ve really gotta start picking places with better security.” Daniel laughed. The last time Steven saw Edmund and Daniel they had threatened him, but sitting there, relaxed, they didn’t seem threatening at all, even with the rest of their club. They sat in his place like old friends come to visit. “The fuck!?” was all Steven managed to say. Edmund leaned forward and raised a notebook that had been resting beside him, Steven’s notebook. He opened it and began to read: “I wish I could have the club, any one of them. I wish one of them could be mine to hold, to worship, to pleasure. I wish I didn’t have to fight them, to fight my desires…so forth and so on.” Edmund shut the book. “We’re here to give you your wish,” Edmund said. “That’s your ‘Thank you’” “I’m good,” Steven said. The club members rose. Daniel opened the apartment door, letting Aron in. Thomas went into the kitchenette and returned with a chair, which he placed right next to Steven. “Have a seat.” Thomas demanded. Steven stood still, not sure what to do. Brendon forced him into the seat with ease. Then he felt Thomas grab his hands as Brendon pushed down on his shoulders. Daniel grabbed his feet. Aron produced a coil of rope from within his hoodie and before Steven could fully realize what was happening, he was tied to the chair. “What are you going to do to me?” Steven asked. “Just enjoy the show,” Aron said as he stripped down to his underwear. What the…, Steven thought. Then he saw the club members follow suit, but instead of stopping at their underwear they went all the way, completely butt naked. Steven let out a slightly audible moan at the sight of their thick meaty cocks hanging between their muscular thighs. He turned his head away, but quickly looked back. There was no resisting this. They were too close. He could smell their masculinity, their raw sexuality, and if his hands weren’t bound, he could literally reach out and touch them. Oh, how he wanted to touch them, to put his hands on their perfection. Yes. Yes. Look at them faggot. Take it in. The voice in his head taunted him. Steven licked his lips as he eye-fucked the muscle gods standing before him. He had never been so close to a naked man before, outside of his dreams, and now he was this close to four of them. “Let’s pump up!” Edmund said. He darted into Steven’s room and returned with Steven’s pair of 30lb dumbbells which he hadn’t used in months. He handed one to Daniel and they began to curl. Steven watched as their biceps stretched and contracted. The veins on Edmund’s arms popped like the veins coiled around his massive manhood. Brendon grabbed the twink, Aron, and began to press him overhead with deep, manly grunts. Thomas performed pushups on the floor. He must have done 50 in one minute. When they were done, they looked at each other, admiring each other’s size. Steven’s cock grew hard in his pants. It pressed painfully against his jeans. He wished he could adjust it but he didn’t have use of his hands. He wiggled in his seat trying to find comfort. Aron picked up a bottle of baby oil. He began to rub each of the club member’s down, caressing each and every muscle with his small hands as they flexed. The club’s cocks grew stiff and erect. Steven wished it was him in Aron’s place, then immediately hated himself for it. No! I’m not a little faggot like the Twink…but…why am I so hard. Why am I enjoying this so much? “Are you enjoying yourself?” Edmund asked as he did a most muscular pose. His pecs glistened. Steven could see every striation in his chest. Then he turned his gaze to Brendon, the beefy, hulking stud, so thick and powerful, and hairy. His arms looked like they could be the size of Steven’s head. Then he stared at Daniel, the perfect cross between Edmund and Brendon. Last, he examined Thomas, incredibly proportioned and symmetrical. He was like a carved statue, a paragon of male beauty. Steven could feel his underwear grow wet as his manhood leaked precum. His erection was painfully throbbing. He had to relieve it. If only he could. The club began to masturbate. They rubbed their cocks using the baby oil as lubrication. Aron continued to worship their bodies as they did so, moving from one muscle god to the next. Sometimes he would kiss them, sometimes he would take over stroking their cocks while they flexed. “I can’t take it anymore,” Steven said. “Please undo my hands so I can relieve myself. Please!” Edmund motioned to Steven with his head. Aron ran over and undid the ropes on his hands. Steven quickly undid the zipper on his pants, releasing his rock-hard member. He spat on his hand and began to furiously masturbate. As he stroked the club moved closer to him. All, except Edmund, continued to pleasure themselves with faster and faster strokes. Then the cum began to flow. Thomas was the first to release his load. It hit Steven’s shirt. Daniel and Brendon were next, and both of their massive cum shots hit Steven in the face. Warm cum trickled down his face, thick and sticky, salty and strong. Steven blew his load. It landed just shy of Edmund’s bare feet. The muscle god stepped over it and stood before Steven. Steven was eye level with Edmund’s massive 9-inch cock. It made him feel inadequate about his own modestly sized member, which he stuffed back into his jeans. “What is it you want?” Edmund said, as his cock bobbed up and down before Steven’s eyes like a serpent ready to strike. Steven looked up to his face. He could feel cum ooze down his chin. Edmund raised Steven’s notebook into the air and repeated himself. “What is it you want?” Edmund dropped the book. It landed in Seven’s own cum with a splat. Steven could feel tears forming in his eyes. What kind of tears they were, he wasn’t sure. Sadness? Humiliation? Joy? All three? “You know what I want,” he said. “Say it!” Edmund demanded. Go ahead, say it. The voice in his head spoke. He was too close now, too close to deny himself. Edmund’s cock was so close he could almost taste the skin. “I want you.” Edmund flexed his arms and bent down. Steven reached out to squeeze them. They were like hard melons in his hands. He was lustful. Then he looked at the other club members beside him and it was as if his hands had a mind of their own. He grabbed at Daniel’s pecs as he bounced them. He squeezed Brendon’s colossal thighs. He ran his fingers up and down Thomas’ chiseled abs. They were like a stone wall. Edmund smiled and began to tease Steven with his cock. He rubbed it around Stevens lips, before grabbing Steven by the hair. Steven opened his mouth and began to suck. It was his first time giving a blowjob, but he hoped he was doing well. He wanted nothing more than to pleasure the muscle god before him, to finally live out the fantasies he had written down. Edmund threw his head back in pleasure. Steven sucked until he felt Edmund was about to blow his load, then he began to pull away. “Oh, no.” Edmund said and pushed his cock deeper into Steven’s mouth, filling his mouth with his creamy seed. Steven didn’t think he would like it, but he did. He squeezed the base of Edmund’s cock sucking down every last drop of muscle god seed. Then Edmund let him go. Aron bent down and untied Steven’s feet. Steven didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe what had happened. It was as if the pages of his notebook jumped to life. In that moment, his life took a 180 degree turn. He felt all his self-loathing washed away in a baptism in cum. For the first time in his life he accepted who he was. “Why?” Steven asked. “You were our enemy,” Brendon said shaking his head. “God knows you were, and we thought about all kinds of things we could do to you, but then we thought about your notebook.” “Yep,” Edmund chimed in. “We realized you tortured yourself worse than we ever could so instead we decided to help you. To give you what you wanted, what you really wanted. It wasn’t to get rid of us. It was to be as free as us. Tonight, we gave you a taste of The Muscle Gut Club.” Steven lowered his head and thought for a moment before speaking. “Thank you.” The club members simply nodded their heads. They turned their hulking frames around and went back to their clothes. After they dressed and left, Steven sat in silence for a moment before picking up his notebook. He tossed it into the garbage. I don’t need that anymore. I experienced it.
  9. Chapter Thirty-Three: Brendon He stood in the living room of the club house. Thomas leaned against the wall beside him. Edmund and Daniel sat on the couch while Aron watched from the kitchen doorway. Edmund held a letter in his hand. It had appeared that evening at the Club’s door long after the mail had already been delivered. A letter from Steven. Edmund began to read: “You know who this is. I held up my end of the bargain. I left you alone. Sadly, you could not. I guess it’s a side effect of the steroid use shrinking your brains along with your nuts. You drugged me. Stripped me. Tied me to a lamp post. Humiliated me. Well now it’s your turn to be humiliated.” “By now you have probably seen the flyers around campus exposing your Website and debaucherous acts. You may not know, though, that I also sent links to most of the professors. Everyone knows about you. They know what you look like. They know what you do. Have a wonderful rest of the semester. I know I will. Oh! And by the way. I’m still upholding my end of the bargain. I won’t bother you. The rest of the campus will do that. Sincerely, Your better.” Edmund balled up the letter when he was done. Brendon couldn’t help but think this was all his fault. Perhaps he should have just left well enough alone. He didn’t need to get revenge. But still! What happened to Thomas. That was Steven’s fault! “Fuck him.” Brendon said. “So, the campus knows about us. What’s the worst that can happen?” “Being treated like pariahs.” Thomas said. “We all have personal lives outside of the club. People we interact with, have fun with, work with. They may know our orientations but the club activities are hard to swallow, you have to admit.” “We’re just four friends that like to work out, that’s all.” Brendon said. “And as far as the videos go. Everyone tries some kinky stuff in college. They say it’s a time of experimentation.” Brendon tried to make the situation sound better than it was, but he was having trouble sounding convincing, even to himself. “Some of those videos were filmed on campus property,” Edmund said. “What if someone recognizes something? I’m pretty sure using campus property for softcore porn breaks a few rules in the student handbook.” “We could take those videos down.” Brendon suggested. “We could take down all the videos. Hell, the whole site. At least until summer starts and people forget all about it.” Daniel said. “That’s exactly what that asshole wants.” Brendon crossed his arms, and frowned. He couldn’t believe they were thinking of giving in. “I agree with Brendon,” Edmund said. “Huh.” Brendon was surprised. “That is what Steven wants. We can’t give it to him,” Edmund continued. “But we do need to make a few changes.” “Like…?” Thomas asked. The rest of the club members leaned in. “Removing nudity from the site and anything linked to this campus,” Edmund said. “And no drawing attention to ourselves. We don’t want the administration to find any reason to expel us. We’re just ordinary college-age bodybuilders who sell flexing videos on the side.” “But you’re not normal. And you shouldn’t want to be.” Aron, who had remained completely silent finally spoke. “You’re The Muscle Gut Club. You’re muscle gods and last I checked gods don’t hide.” “We’re not hiding.” Daniel said. “Yeah.” Said Edmund. “We’re playing it safe. The club was well known in the gay muscle worship community online but those are people we never have to see. The people on this campus we see every day. This is new ground for the club.” “On parent’s day, I came out to my parents. The flyers pushed me to do it earlier, but I was going to do it anyway.” The club smiled and congratulated Aron. “How did they take it?” Brendon asked. “Not well, but that’s not the point,” Aron said. “The point is I feel free now. A weight has been lifted off of me. You all are free now too. You can talk to anyone on campus knowing that they already know your darkest secret. Steven has nothing left to use against you. He thinks he’s won by outing you, but he’s just made you more powerful.” In that moment Brendon remembered the Aron who chased after him at the start of the school year and asked to meet the club. This wasn’t the same Aron. That Aron was nervous and unsure. This Aron was confident and certain. Now the club was nervous and unsure. How things change. “That’s why I always liked you” Brendon said. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you.” Brendon turned to the other club members. “This little slave is smarter than all of us. What are we worried about? What do we care? Aron came here to serve Alphas and yet we’re acting like betas. Ed you’re a top level junior bodybuilder with Adonis looks. Thomas you’re a fitness model with a massive social media following. Dan, you and I are top tier weightlifters. We got it. Let’s flaunt it.” “What are you suggesting?” Daniel asked. “Whatever gets thrown our way we roll with it. Let it bounce of our muscles like its nothing. We’re strong enough to take it.” Edmund stood up, slowly nodding his head. “Yeah, let’s show out. Let’s show this campus what the muscle gut club is. 15,000 people know about us now who didn’t 2 days ago. Let’s use that.” “Alright.” Thomas said. “I’m not so sure, but… I’m in,” said Daniel “Usually slaves keep their mouths shut” Brendon said to Aron. “But you never did. I think you for that. Your words are what it took to knock some sense into us.” “I only want to be a good slave to my muscle masters. I’m glad I pleased you.” “You’re a great slave,” Brendon said. “And we are glad you’re ours.” The other club members joined in agreement, patting their slave on the back. “There’s something I want to do for you all,” Aron said. “With all this Steven stuff going on There hasn’t really been time for me to truly worship you like I should, like gods deserved to be worshipped.” “Before you all show out on campus I want you to remember what being Alpha muscle gods feels like. Dominate me, talk down to me, throw me around. I want to feel what I felt the first time I met you, and I think you need to feel it to.” “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Edmund stood up. “Me neither.” Brendon said. “I have to ask. Why now?” Thomas said “Because this is the rebirth of The Muscle Gut Club, and this will be a renewal of our vows.” Aron stripped down to his tight white briefs. The club followed suit, removing everything but their underwear. Aron worshipped their bulging muscles as they flexed and flaunted. Brendon couldn’t remember the last time the whole club partook in such an erotic display together. Aron licked Thomas’ cobblestone abs. He massaged Daniel’s thick quads. He squeezed Edmunds cannonball biceps, and sucked on Brendon’s shelf-like pecs. The club members lifted Aron. They passed him around, taking turns overpowering the weak slave. Brendon pushed Aron into the wall with his muscle gut. “You like that boy!” Brendon said. “Yes master.” Aron replied, struggling to breath. Edmund grabbed Aron and put him in a headlock. His biceps bulged as he squeezed Aron’s neck. “Careful you don’t snap him in two,” Daniel said. “He’s so puny and frail.” Daniel grabbed the little slave and lifted him over his head with ease then threw him onto the couch. Aron bounced into the air then landed on the floor where Thomas quickly took hold of him. He wrestled Aron into submission then wrapped his lean strong legs around Aron’s body. Aron struggled to get free but he couldn’t. “You’re no match for me,” Thomas said. “Look at how easily I got you in this hold. I could hold you here all night.” “And it would be heaven master,” Aron said. Thomas released Aron. Edmund immediately grabbed him with one arm and pushed the slave to his knees with ease. He whipped out his hard cock 9 inch and slapped Aron across the face with it. “You want it. You want it.” Edmund teased Aron with his pole, rubbing it around his mouth and poking. Him with the tip. Drops of sticky pre-cum glistened on Aron’s face. “Yes, Yes, I want it master,” Aron begged. “And you’ll have it,” Edmund said. “All 9 stiff inches, but we’re going to save the best for last. First you’ll take care of my friends starting with the smallest cock. Then you’ll work your way up to me.” Brendon was amused by Edmund’s ‘save the best for last’ comment. Edmund’s may have been the longest, but Brendon’s was the thickest. He watched as Aron blew Thomas and Daniel eagerly waiting his turn. It had been over a month since he had one of Aron’s blowjobs. Edmund had been hogging them. When his turn came, Brendon took full control. He grabbed Aron’s head and forced his cock into the slave’s mouth. Brendon face fucked the little twink until his cock was ready to spasm. He quickly removed his cock and came all over Aron’s face. He watched as cum dripped off Aron’s forehead, around his eyes, down his nose, and over his lips. Aron lapped it up with his tongue like it was the best tasting thing in the world. “My turn.” Edmund said. Aron sucked him off with Brendon’s cum still sticking to his face. Edmund moaned with pleasure as he filled the slave’s mouth with his semen. Brendon knew it must have been a massive load because he saw some of the white liquid squirt out the sides of the twink’s little mouth. Aron gulped it own, using his hands to squeeze the last drops of cum from Edmund’s cock. When Aron was done, he didn’t rise from his knees immediately. Instead he lowered himself closer to the ground. In one final act of submissiveness he kissed his masters’ feet like he did the first day he met the club. “I never forgot my place,” Aron said. “Neither should you. You all are gods amongst men on this campus. Act like it. Show Steven who you are. Show him what the muscle gut club is.” “Right on!” Brendon shouted. The club rested well that night. Chapter 34 Part One: Daniel Daniel took a seat in his anatomy and physiology class. When he entered, he received many strange looks, and stares from the other students. He was used to it now, though, and ignored them. The rest of the club got them too. Whenever he made eye contact his classmates turned away and pretended to be looking someplace else. He scanned the lecture hall for his girlfriend but she was nowhere in sight. He had texted Sarah several times, but got no response. Odd. She was usually quick to respond. Daniel was concerned about how she would handle the news about the club. Time and time again he ventured to tell her but failed to. He just couldn’t put it into words. What would make a straight guy do the things he does? If he did those things could he even call himself straight? She might not think so. That scared him. He wondered how Aron had broken the news of his sexuality to his parents. What thoughts flew through his mind in the moments before. He heard footprints behind him and turned to see Sarah entering the Hall. He tried to make eye contact, but she didn’t look at him. “Sarah.” He called in a hushed shout. She didn’t turn around, but he was sure she heard him. Professor Warwick entered the hall through a side door immediately following her. He walked with his usual hurried steps and wasted no time starting his lecture. “Last week we looked at the involuntary muscles, Smooth and cardiac. This week we’ll look at the voluntary muscle, the skeletal muscles.” Prof. Warwick seemed to look directly at Daniel when he said ‘skeletal muscle’. “There are over 650 named skeletal muscles.” Prof. Warwick continued. “Most of them are so obscure that even I don’t know them.” Some students snickered at that. “But I want you all to be able to name the major ones.” Prof. Warwick opened his laptop and an image of the human body showing the front and back musculature appeared on the projector screen. “I always like to get a live demonstration for this when I can as it helps the students remember.” Prof. Warwick grinned directly at Daniel. “Is there any student that would like to flex his muscles for the class.” The professor did a corny most muscular pose. Daniel looked at the professor and they shared a quick stare. He wants me to do it. He must have heard about the club. Daniel pondered it for a moment. He looked around the class at the students staring at him, even Sarah looked his way, though she quickly turned away when he returned her gaze. He looked at the professor, and then he remembered what Aron had said. They were muscle gods. They should act like it. Daniel rose confidently from his seat. “I volunteer.” “Excellent!” Professor Warwick beamed. Daniel swaggered down the stairs to the front of the hall. He kicked off his shoes, peeled of his tight black t-shirt. He glanced back at the professor and smirked before dropping his pants and kicking them aside. Some of the students gasped, other’s smiled widely, some giggled, and still others just sat in silent awe. Daniel looked like a bodybuilder during his offseason. He looked powerful, big and thick all over with just enough definition that you could see the outline of his abs when he tensed. He would give them a show. He wanted to make every guy jealous, and every pussy wet. Mr. Warwick pointed to the muscles on the projector and called out their name. As he did so, Daniel made a pose that flexed that particular muscle group. “Biceps Brachialis” Front Double bicep. “Pectoralis Major.” Side chest pose. “Trapezius.” Most muscular. “Deltoid.” Rear double bicep. It continued like that. Daniel had to hit several poses twice because they showed more than one muscle. Brendon could see every eye glued on him and he loved it. There were ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ as he showed off his hard work. He saw girls fan themselves and guys adjusting their crotches, no doubt growing hard. The class was enjoying themselves. He turned to see how the professor was liking it and noticed a bulge in his khakis that wasn’t there earlier. Yep, he was enjoying it. When class was over, Daniel saw Sarah rushing out of the hall. She didn’t smile once during his show. As he moved to follow her Prof. Warwick grabbed his arm. “Excuse me,” The Professor said. “I saw your videos. How much do you charge for a muscle worship session?” “I’ll email you about it, Professor, but I got to go.” Daniel darted up the stairs and saw Sarah just outside the lecture hall. He called her name and grabbed her arm. “What’s the matter?” Daniel said. “You’re not returning my texts.” “You know what’s the matter?” Sarah said. “I can explain the club.” He lied. “I can’t accept your explanation, no matter what it is. I might have if you had been honest with me from the start, but you lied to me.” Sarah looked at the ground. Daniel put a finger under his chin and raised her face up to look at him. She was frowning and a tear rolled down her cheek. “We can work past it-” Daniel said, though He knew they couldn’t. “No. I thought you could take a hint by me ignoring you, but I guess not. I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Don’t text me. Don’t talk to me. Go get you dick sucked by your twink friend.” She turned around and stormed off. Those words weren’t her. He knew that. She just wanted to hurt him, and It worked. If I’d only listened to Aron. He was right. But it was too late for those thoughts now. Part Two: Thomas He had been called many insulting things in the days and weeks following the exposure of the club, mostly by students who didn’t and never would look as good as him. He also knew they would never find a love as deep as the one he shared with Brendon. They were sad, pathetic losers whose words said more about them than him. In time he came to embrace the hate, even make light of it. “How much to suck my cock?” one guy shouted at him as he sunned himself shirtless on the quad. Thomas rose from the grass with a smile and walked toward the guy who was laughing with his idiot friends. “I don’t get paid to suck cock,” Thomas said, still smiling. “I get paid to have my cock sucked.” It was true. The club’s fan base had increased after their exposure. They had all started accepting muscle worship requests from on and off campus. Even Daniel had let one of his teachers worship him for $350 (and a guaranteed A in the class). “I’m single, and everybody knows what we do. No use avoiding it now. Might as well go full on muscle slut.” Daniel had said, while counting his money. Thomas and Brendon agreed. Edmund was happy to see everyone else getting in on the action. Steven’s plan had caused much hate for the club, but if he had known it would make them more money he probably would have thought twice. “Now then,” Thomas continued. “How much would you pay me for the honor of sucking my cock.” “I’m not gay,” said the guy, stepping away. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He most likely didn’t expect Thomas would approach him and hadn’t prepared for it. “Are you sure sweetie,” Thomas said. “You’re looking at my chest and abs kind of hard there. Yoohoo, my eyes are up here.” Thomas pointed to his face which was plastered with a cocky smirk. The guy was squirming. “Nah man. I wasn’t looking at your body.” The guy glanced at his friends for reassurance. “I got my own set of abs.” The guy lifted his shirt and flexed a pathetic 5 pack so flat it could have been drawn on. It sat beneath a pair of nonexistent pecs and visible ribs that the guy was probably stupid enough to believe were obliques. Thomas fought back laughter. “Oh wow!” Thomas said. “Sexy guy. I’ll suck your cock for free.” He reached out his hand and attempted to squeeze the guy’s stomach. He and his friends ran like the wind. Thomas was the one laughing then. He would have to remember to share this event at the meeting of the Gay Student Union he and the club were invited to that evening. As he snickered, he could see Brendon coming around the corner with a confused look on his face and half a sandwich in his hand. The two had been sunning together, but Brendon had stepped away to grab a snack in the food court. “What was that all about?” Brendon asked. “Just a game of scare the straight guys.” Thomas took the half of sandwich in his hand and bit into it with a crunch. “Where’s the other half of this sandwich?” “It’s with mine.” Brendon said. “Where’s yours?” Thomas asked, already knowing the answer. Brendon patted his muscle gut, with a smile. “You said you weren’t that hungry.” “I still expected a full sandwich.” Thomas punched Brendon playfully on his meaty shoulder. “Yet, how can I be mad at my growing man.” The two shared a laugh. Brendon was shirtless as well. The whole club often went around shirtless, now that the weather was improving. They got as many looks of lust and words of support as looks of disgust and words of hate. Thomas wished the club had gone public a year ago. “It’s not so bad,” Thomas said. “What?” Brendon asked. “Being out on the open.” “Yeah, I like the sun.” Brendon lay on his back, sunglasses on, and his hands behind his head. “I was talking about the club silly.” “Oh, yeah, definitely. We should really thank Steven.” Brendon laughed. Thomas rolled on his side and looked at the curves of Brendon’s powerful muscles padded with fat, The patch of hair on his chest that trailed down to his crotch, the fullness of his face outlined by a well-trimmed beard, and he thought about all the beauty of his man that you couldn’t see by looking at him. I am the luckiest man, He thought. Thomas snuggled up beside Brendon, who wrapped a large powerful arm around him. It was warm, but not too warm to snuggle. He lay there, topless, in the grass, in his lover’s embrace and didn’t care who was looking. Part Three: Edmund He stood outside the club’s house, hand on his chin, staring at the writing on the door. It read: ‘Faggots’ in red paint. Someone’s idea of a joke. Aron stepped up beside him. “I’ll get some paint and cover it up,” Aron said. “No,” said Edmund. “We are going to embrace this fully. Get me a red marker.” Aron ran inside and returned with a red marker in hand. Edmund took it and began to write in thick block letters above the defamatory word. Edmund stood back to admire his handy work. It now read: ‘Sexy Faggots.’ “We Own it,” Edmund said nodding his head. “We Own it,” Aron repeated. “Oh Edmund!” A voice shouted from the road. He and Aron turned in unison. “Speaking of sexy faggots,” Edmund said to Aron, “A client calls.” The cheerful Anthony Ruiz bounced down the path right up to Edmund. He was the vice-president of the Gay Student Union. His dark hair was meticulously styles with a touch too much gel. He smiled so widely gums showed. “I really want to thank you on behalf of Gay Student Union for coming out with your club and talking to us the other night. It was a truly enlightening evening,” Anthony said. “Anytime,” Edmund said, “and I thank you guys for inviting us. I’m sorry we didn’t get involved with the union sooner.” The club did enjoy hanging out with The Gay Student Union. They shared the complete story of The Muscle Gut Club, how they came to terms with their sexuality and discovered their shared fetish. There training and day to day lives. They even picked up a few more clients. “I’m sure you had your reasons,” Anthony said. “I know it must have been traumatizing for you all to have your business plastered all over campus like that.” “Nothing they can’t handle,” Aron said, with a smile. Edmund put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder and pulled him closer. They could handle it because of him. When Edmund thought how close the club came to caving, he couldn’t believe how weak he’d been, but Aron’s words had inspired them not to give up. Now business was better than ever. If all the club had to do was deal with the occasional asshole shouting rude remarks or random acts of vandalism it was well worth it. Still, though, he wished it could have been done on his own terms, not on Steven’s. “Still I have to say we were all moved by your story,” Thomas said. “You guys are living a dream that so many Gay guys probably wish they could, especially you Aron. You’ve got this handsome stud.” Anthony pointed at Edmund with both fingers. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “What’s that?” Edmund asked. “When you told the union about Steven we got really pissed off,” Anthony said. “I have nothing against closeted guys but for them to try to attack other’s in the community because of their own insecurity really rubs me the wrong way. Some others in the GSU felt the same way and we decided to help you.” Edmund raised his eyebrows and he and Aron shared a quick glance. “What kind of help?” Anthony held out his hand with the paper. Edmund took it and opened it. An address was written inside. “We all kept our eyes open,” Anthony continued. “We said one of us has to have a class with this Steven guy or cross paths with him somehow. And guess what. We did!” Anthony clasped his hands and jumped. “Several of our members were even able to find out where he lives.” He pointed to the note. “Thank you.” Edmund said. “Of course, what you choose to do with it is up to you.” “I have an idea.” Edmund smirked. “But I’ll have to discuss it with the whole club. What can we do to repay you?” “Oooh, well…” Anthony squeezed his hands together, twisted his body, and looked to the sky as if he was thinking very hard. “A private show would be great! You’re looking ripped.” Edmund laughed. “Yeah I’m almost ready for my show.” Edmund raised his shirt and flexed his tight midsection. The cuts between his abs were so deep they looked like you could lose a quarter in them. Aron opened the door. Edmund threw an arm around Anthony and led him inside. “Come on in buddy, a private show, on the house.”
  10. Thirty-one: Thomas This was the week Thomas expected a letter from the Alpha Aesthetic clothing line. The company had contacted him shortly after a recent photo-shoot taken in the pool and weight room of the local Iron Addicts Gym. They billed themselves as fashion forward active wear for the gym goer who wasn’t interested in growing huge, but instead wanted to build an aesthetic, athletic physique. At the time he spoke with them, they seemed like a perfect fit. His physique was the definition of the word aesthetic, but now he wasn’t so sure. They set size limits for their models. They didn’t want any of them to look like bodybuilders. In fact, at 170, Thomas was over the size limit set for his height by 5 pounds. They told him that wasn’t a problem since he could lose it easily. Thomas had no desire to lose weight, however. All his life he had been small, then he began to work out and build a chiseled muscular physique, but still remained the smallest member of the Muscle Gut Club. He had gained a little weight since the start of the school year and enjoyed it. Brendon did, too. “Ever wonder what you’d look like at 190 pounds,” Brendon had asked him. “God, I’d be a tank!” Thomas had replied. Thomas had thought about it, though. What would it feel like at my height to be that big? When Brendon was 190, he looked down right skinny, but he was so much taller than Thomas. 5’ 8’’ and 190. The thought made Thomas hard. He had grown envious of the other club members growing weekly, seeing their bodies transform into something more while he remained nearly unchanged in 8 months. Perhaps it was his turn to grow. But Alpha Aesthetics was a great new company with a proven history of sales and high popularity amongst gym goers ages 15 to 30. They offered a great sponsorship package with free clothing and supplements. Not to mention free travel to exotic locales for events with other models. If he didn’t like it, he could always use it as a stepping stone to something better. He racked his brain with the decision for several minutes before jumping out of his bed. Enough of that! “Aron!” Thomas called. The slave appeared immediately. Edmund had taken good care of him. He was the picture of health and ready to serve the club again. “Yes master.” Aron said. “Fix me a pre-workout please.” “Right away.” Thomas went downstairs and saw Edmund jumping rope in front of the television. He had ramped up his cardio to help cut for his competition. His tank top was drenched in sweat. It clung to his muscles like cling wrap. Thomas could make out the definition of his abs and the veins in his arms were starting to pop. Thomas estimated he was at 11% percent body fat. When Thomas caught his eye, he stopped jumping. “Still no change in the website?” Edmund said “No. It’s all good.” Edmund was concerned about another cyber-attack. It didn’t take him long to figure out that Steven was the student that had been tied to a lamp post. Nor did it take him long to figure out Brendon had done it. The two argued for nearly an hour coming close to trading blows. Aron calmed Edmund down and Thomas did the same for Brendon. It would have been a curious site to any outside eyes: Two smaller guys struggling to hold back their larger and stronger lovers to prevent a blood bath. Edmund went looking for Steven to apologize and let him know that the truce was still on, that Brendon acted alone and out of anger, but Steven was not home. In-fact Edmund had told the club Steven no longer lived at his apartment. Brendon laughed, proud that he had scared him away. Edmund didn’t take it as a good sign. That was weeks ago. The club hadn’t seen Steven since “I don’t know what he’s going to do, but a guy like Steven is going to try something.” Edmund said. “If he wanted revenge don’t you think he would have taken it by now?” Thomas said. “Maybe Brendon’s right. He scared him off.” “He’s still around. I ran into Joseph today and he told me Steven still attends class.” “He’s good at avoiding people” “It’s a big campus” Edmund said, “and do you ever remember seeing him before all this?” “No, but before all of this I never would have paid attention to a guy like him.” “He also knows our schedules, remember. If he doesn’t want us to find him then we won’t and that worries me. What’s he planning?” “Probably nothing.” Thomas said. Aron entered the room and handed him his pre-workout. He chugged it. “Hopefully nothing.” Edmund corrected. “I don’t think it matters.” Aron said. “Why’s that?” Thomas looked down at him. “Because I met him more than any of you. I saw how he was. He’s a liar to his core. It was so convincing, everything he told the engineering club, but it was all lies. He’s even lying to himself about being gay. I guarantee Steven had every intention of breaking the truce. Brendon just beat him to it.” Thomas and Edmund looked at each other when Aron had finished speaking. Thomas knew the little slave was probably right and he could tell Edmund felt it too. “Speaking of lying.” Edmund said “Have you come out to your parents yet? You said you were going to.” “Well…” Aron smiled awkwardly. “That sounds like a no Ed.” Thomas said, “But I don’t blame you Aron. Tell them when you’re ready, whether it’s now or in ten years.” “Don’t wait ten years. Get it out of the way. Parents Day is coming up next month, April 16. It will be the perfect time, but that’s up to you.” Edmund patted Aron on the shoulder. “Well I’ve got laundry to fold.” Aron said as he darted out of the room. Edmund and Thomas laughed. “I didn’t know parent’s day was going to coincide with the Spring Festival,” Thomas said. “Yeah, the whole campus will be packed.” Aron darted back by them, laundry basket in hand. The two paused to watch him. “You really care for him, don’t you?” Thomas whispered. “It’s no secret.” “Then don’t push him.” “I’m not pushing him,” Edmund said. “I just see that it eats him up not being able to be himself around his parents. He’s told me as much. I just think he shouldn’t have to hide.” “I get you.” Thomas nodded. Edmund started back with his jumping jacks. Thomas took that to mean the conversation was over. Besides he could feel his pre-workout was kicking in. He was ready to pump some iron. Thomas walked over to the dumbbell rack in the garage gym and picked up two 25s. He leaned forward and did a set of bent-over reverse flies. Thomas couldn’t help but feel bad for Brendon as he worked out. His lover couldn’t lift like he wanted to and even had to take his name off the roster for the weightlifting meet in May (A fact he was loath to tell Daniel), because he knew the lack of training would set him back. Currently he was out trying acupuncture therapy and deep tissue massages. Thomas couldn’t wait for his man to be back to his old self. He missed seeing him throw around hundreds of pounds with ease and then crawl right into to bed and throw him around. Weightlifting was part of who Brendon was and Thomas wanted him to be whole again. He completed two more sets of bent over flies, rested, and moved on to lat pulldowns with 125 pounds. He pulled the bar down to his upper chest feeling the contraction in his lats as he did so. After 12 reps he moved on to pullups with a 45-lb. plate hanging between his legs. He did 8 reps and his arms and lats burned. No pain no gain. Thomas removed his tank top and tossed it on the bench. He did a front lat spread in the mirror. Looking good. Lats really make a physique. He kept his shirt off and continued his back workout: 2 sets of bench rows with 50-lb. dumbbells, 3 sets of bent over barbell rows with 120 pounds, and 2 sets deadlifts with 225 pounds. He walked back into the living room. Edmund was gone now. Aron appeared as if Thomas had summoned him telepathically, with a pitcher of protein shake in hand. “Right on time.” Thomas said. He took the shake and drank it in a few large gulps and handed the pitcher back to Aron. The front door opened and Brendon walked in. He removed his coat and handed it to Aron. “How’d it go?” Thomas asked “Well, I guess it went all right. It was an interesting experience to say the least. I never in my life had so many Asian women’s hands on me, before today.” He laughed then stretched his back. Thomas hugged him and placed a hand on his lower back. “Does it feel better?” “It’s improving.” “That’s good to hear, master,” Aron said. “I’ll say,” Said Thomas. He and Brendon shared a quick kiss, before Brendon went up to his room. He said he had some mobility exercises he needed to try. “It’s like yoga or some shit but they say it helps,” Brendon said before leaving. Thomas went to his 1:00 pm class, intermediate Japanese, and when he returned home the mail had arrived. “You were the only one that got anything. The rest was junk mail,” Aron said. “I put it on your bed.” Thomas saw a package and an envelope when he entered his room. The package was from Alpha Aesthetics. He ripped it open immediately. A letter inside read: Alpha Aesthetics is pleased to welcome Thomas Patel to our aesthetic team. Mr. Patel, we believe you have what it takes to help grow our brand. Alpha Aesthetics is a small brand with big aspirations. Come join us on our journey. Please accept the enclosed free gifts as a show of our commitment to you as an athlete and an aesthetic model. The box contained two tank top, two tees, two pairs of sweatpants, a Fitbit, a shaker cup, and a hoodie. All, but the Fitbit had the Alpha-Aesthetics logo on it. Thomas smiled as he looked at the free gifts. He read the note over three times. It was surreal. He was going to be sponsored. “Good news?” Thomas jumped. Brendon stood right behind him. “I didn’t hear you come in. It’s good news.” Thomas motioned to all the free stuff and handed Brendon the note. “Awesome, Babe.” Brendon pointed to the envelope. “What’s that?” Thomas picked it up. It was from Gainz Supplement Company. “I don’t know.” Thomas opened it and began to read. “It says they looked over my pictures and are happy that I bought myself to their attention.” Thomas’ face twisted with confusion. “They are pleased to hear that I’m looking to grow and that they can help. Gainz is dedicated to finding young weightlifters and bodybuilders at the start of their careers and watching them grow with our brand. We would love to talk with you in person.” Thomas looked at Brendon. “I didn’t contact them.” He saw Brendon smirk. Then he had a moment of realization. “What did you do?” “Well, I may have put your name out there with some companies who don’t care how big you get,” Brendon said. “I know you want to get bigger. Alpha Aesthetics won’t let you get as big as possible. They just want a guy with abs that they can cover-up with their clothes. Gainz is looking for someone to grow. They’ll help you reach your full potential.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I wanted to surprise you. Are you going to talk to them?” Thomas picked up the note from Alpha Aesthetics and tore it in half. “Absolutely.” “You know you’re the greatest,” Thomas said. “yeah, I know.” Brendon smiled. “You aint too bad yourself.” Thomas punched him on the pec. “Ah! You’d hit a cripple?” “Let’s see how crippled you are.” Thomas pushed everything off of his bed, jumped on it, and laid on his back. Brendon kicked the door shut and climbed on top of him. Thomas loved the feeling of lover’s bulk on top of him. “I can’t wait to grow with you.” Thomas whispered in Brendon’s ear. Chapter Thirty-Two: Aron Parents day had arrived. Aron had had several weeks to think about Edmunds suggestion, and though his lover and master never bought it up again he thought about it every day. His parents were coming to campus to spend time with their only son and enjoy the festivities of the Spring Festival. Would they want to hear that their son was gay? Wouldn’t that ruin the whole day? Aron decided no day was a good day to drop that bombshell and since everyday was equally as bad he might as well do it. He was eighteen years old, soon to be nineteen in just a few short months. He had to be a man about it. “Mom, dad. I’m Gay.” “Mom, dad. I like men.” He tried saying different variations of it, standing in front of the full length door mirror in his room. He wanted to be quick and blunt to get it out of the way, but not too blunt. “Mom, dad. I have something very important to tell you. Have a seat. I’m a homosexual.” “Hey mom and dad you ever wonder why I never had a girlfriend. No. It’s not because all the girls were bigger than me, hahaha. It’s because I don’t like girls.” Uugh! His mother texted him from the car. They’d be at the campus in an hour. Whatever he was going to say he had to think of it quick. There was one thing he knew he wouldn’t be talking about, though: The Club. He couldn’t for the life of him think of a way to explain his arrangement with the club… His parents would never understand that. Aron met his parents in his dorm’s parking lot. His mother was overdressed as usual in pink flowery dress and hat with high heels. She hugged him. “It’s only been 3 months since I saw you last but it feels like it’s been so long ago.” She paused and looked at him. Then squeezed him again. “You’re filling out. Efren do you see it.” “I see it honey.” Efren Ocampo patted his son on the back and hugged him. He wore grey slacks and a loose-fitting cream colored guayabera shirt. “You must be eating better. You look healthier son.” Aron had noticed a change in his body. He was 115 pounds now. Still skinny, but not skeletal. Edmund had told him that 125 would be perfect for him so that was the current goal. “What’s there to do?” Mr. Ocampo said. He rubbed his hands together. “I’m ready to have some fun.” “I saw them setting up rides yesterday. They’re also going to have a lot of food and games-” “Will there be prizes?” Mrs. Ocampo asked. “Yeah. That’s what I heard, and a band, and-.” “I hope they have those giant Teddy Bears. You have to try to win your mother one of those.” Mrs. Ocampo said, beaming. The family walked side by side toward the center of the campus. Flyers of different colors flew past them. “Do they always litter like this?” Mrs. Ocampo said. “Letting papers fly all over.” “Probably just some club advertising their event or a frat advertising a party,” Aron said. He was used to seeing flyers blown in the wind and payed no attention to them. “Been to many parties, son,” Mr. Ocampo asked. “No. Not many.” That was the truth. Aron had only been to one frat party. He preferred to have his ‘fun’ with the club. “That’s good to hear.” Mrs. Ocampo placed a hand on Aron’s shoulder. “Too much weird stuff goes on at those parties.” “Well I hope you’re having fun, though. Getting out and interacting with people. How else are you going to get a girlfriend, right?” Mr. Ocampo smiled. Aron was tempted to say ‘I’ve already found one dad. She’s 6 foot one and 230 pounds of muscle, and she’s got a 9-inch cock,’ but he held his tongue. Mrs. Ocampo picked up one of the flyers and frowned at it. “Such a waste of paper.” “What’s it say, Rita?” Mr. Ocampo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glanced at the paper. “Just a website.” She said it like she couldn’t believe it. “It says ‘Checkout themusclegutclub.com and see some of this schools very own in action.’ Ridiculous? There has to be a less messy way to advertise a fitness website.” Mrs. Ocampo balled up the paper and threw it in the nearest garbage can. “Fitness website?” Mr. Ocampo said. “Obviously it’s a fitness website. Muscle. Gut. Club. It must be a fitness club. You go and build muscle while losing your gut,” Mrs. Ocampo said, playfully poking her husband’s doughy midsection. “Strange name,” Mr. Ocampo replied. Aron thought it was odd. He hadn’t heard anything from the club about advertising the website, especially in such a reckless way. Thomas had said something about trying to increase the sites traffic but this didn’t seem like his style. Aron had expected him to buy ad space on gay porn sites and forums. He made a mental note to ask the club about it later. Aron’s father took out his phone. “I’ll see what it is.” But I’m on that website! Aron had almost forgotten. He had to think fast. “Mom’s right! It’s just a fitness website. I’ve heard of it. A crappy one too. Some students started it. Real low quality.” “Told you.” Aron’s mother said. “I’d still like to see it.” Mr. Ocampo began swiping at his phone. What’s worse? Seeing your son worshipping a bodybuilder and sucking his cock or being told by him that he’s gay. Aron was sure of the answer. “Mom, dad. I have something very important to tell you. It can’t wait.” Aron’s father looked up from his phone and let his arm fall to his side. His mother looked at him intently. “I’m gay.” Mr. Ocampo stared blankly at Aron. Mrs. Ocampo’s mouth dropped open. After a moment of stillness She threw her hands up and shook her head in what seemed like slow motion. Aron thought she was about to collapse. “Come again,” Aron’s father said. “He’s Gay Efren! He likes men!” Tears flowed down the side of Mrs. Ocampo’s face. Aron reached out to touch his mother. “Mom, I-” “No! Don’t touch me! I didn’t raise a homo,” Said Aron’s mother. “Honey. He’s just confused. We can fix him. Reverend Johnathon said-” “No dad! I’m not confused and I don’t need to be fixed.” “You need to be fixed. Men aren’t supposed to like other men that way. You’re going to stop it. Now.,” Said Mrs. Ocampo. “I can’t stop it and I don’t need to. I am who I am.” “Well if you are that, then you are not my son. Your father and I didn’t raise a homo! We bought you up to be a good Christian man.” “Aron, son. Are you sure? I mean have you even lost your virginity? How would you know?” Aron’s father said, pleading. “I know.” “I can’t believe you,” Mrs. Ocampo said. “I can’t believe you would do this to us. That you would ruin this day. I’m leaving.” Mrs. Ocampo began to walk away. She turned back briefly. “And don’t even think about coming home until you’ve given up this lifestyle.” “Son, I really don’t know what to say…I’ll try to talk to your mother.” “Just say you still love me.” “I love you,” Mr. Ocampo said, after a brief pause. “But I don’t love what you are. I’m not sure I can accept it, but I’ll try to make her come back. The day is not over-” “Just go. Both of you.” “Son-” Mr. Ocampo stopped short and turned away. This isn’t how It was supposed to go. Aron’s mother stood in the distance and stared. Her arms were crossed. He watched as his father ran towards her, exchanged words, and then they disappeared over a hill. Aron knew his mother wouldn’t like it but he didn’t expect her to disown him on the spot. Aron stood for a moment, watching students pass by him with friends and family making their way to the campus center. Fuck it. Aron wasn’t about to let his day be ruined. There was fun to have on campus and he was going to participate in it, with or without his parents. He wiped the frown off of his face and marched down Scholar’s Way. He could see rides rising out of the Quad. Music, voices, and laughter came together into one jumbled sound of jubilation. Everywhere Aron looked was packed with people. He had never seen the campus so crowded. Not even on move in day. “Hey that’s him.” Aron heard a male voice say. He looked around and saw a group of three guys looking at a tree and glancing back at him from time to time. They laughed as they walked away. Aron moved closer to the tree and saw a flyer with two pictures. One was of Edmund wearing only a jock strap with Aron licking his abs. In the second picture Aron stood with Edmund’s crotch in his grip, staring at the camera. They were screen grabs from a video Aron had done with the club. He grabbed the flyer immediately and crumbled it in his hands. He looked quickly from side to side before tossing it in the nearest garbage can. A janitor stood next to the can drinking a bottle of water. “Thanks. I was just about to grab that one.” The janitor said. “That one?” Aron said. “Yeah those flyers, every time I take down one I notice another. They’re all over campus.” There was frustration in the janitor’s voice. “I’m not supposed to be cleaning ‘til after all this but some jackass thought it would be funny to play a prank on Parent’s Day, putting up all this sick trash.” Aron looked in the garbage can. It was full of papers. “Oh shit!” “You said it, kid. Say you look familiar. I seen you somewhere?” “I hope not.” Aron said before darting off. He ran frantically into the lecture hall. Every board had pictures of the club. Aron grabbed every one he saw and tossed them in the trash. He went into the food court. Flyers littered the floor. Some had links to the website. Some had the full names of the club members next to photos. Every photo was risqué in one way or another. Aron scrambled to pick up as many as he could, but his attempts were futile. He couldn’t get them all. He saw students and their parents pick them up and stare. Some gawked, some laughed, some frowned with disgust, and some smiled with pleasure. Aron felt like the world was spinning. What would his friends from the engineering club think? He never told them about the club or his homosexuality. And teachers were here, and his roommate. Aron grew sick. He sprinted toward the door and ran head on into a tall thickly built guy wearing a letterman jacket. He fell back onto the ground. “Well if it isn’t the little cocksucker.” The guy said. He turned to a girl and shorter guy beside him. “Recognize this, little guy?” He held up a fly with Aron and Edmund. Aron wanted to run, but he just sat on the floor. He could feel all eyes in the room on him. The guy took off his jacket and flexed his arm. “Want to feel my muscles faggot.” He shared a laugh with his friends. “I would!” Aron heard a familiar deep voice and them he saw Brendon’s face. Brendon grabbed the guys arm and squeezed until the asshole screamed in pain, dropping his letterman jacket. The guy pulled his arm free and began to rub it. “It’s a little small,” Brendon said. “This one likes ‘em bigger.” Brendon made a quick flex before holding out his hand. Aron took it and pulled himself up. “Thanks.” “No problem, buddy.” Brendon said. The muscle god turned toward the guy and his two friends. “What are you still doing here?” “You’re a faggot too!” the guy shouted. “You ever had your ass beaten by a faggot before? If not today is your lucky day,” Brendon said with a smile. He stepped toward the guy, who quickly stepped back, picked up his jacket and running out of the food court. His friends were in tow. “I didn’t think you were coming,” Aron said. “I came for the free food,” Brendon replied. “You saw the flyers?” “I did.” “You know it was probably Steven.” “I do.” Brendon sounded disappointed. “What’s the club going to do?” “Whatever we do. We won’t be doing it in secret. That’s for sure.” Brendon put his hand on Aron’s back and they left the food court. Aron knew his life would change after that day, but now the club’s lives were about to change as well. The secret was out. The Muscle Gut Club was now known all over campus.
  11. Twenty-nine: Brendon Thomas slept with him all the time now. They comforted each other. Brendon loved when Thomas rubbed and kneaded his lower back and warmed it by pressing his lean taught body into it. His back still wasn’t right after his deadlifting accident but it was getting better. Brendon knew Thomas loved being cradled in his big arms and after his little lover had massaged his back, he would take him between the ham sized slabs of meet that were his biceps and hold him until they fell asleep. With Thomas’ room mostly unused now, he let Aron stay in it. Edmund had said it would only be until he was healthy again and put on some weight. Brendon didn’t care how long it was and neither did Thomas. The two were enjoying each other’s close company. The little Indian had fallen asleep with his head resting on Brendon’s hairy pecs. Brendon looked down at his lover’s face. Almost fully healed now. He ran a finger through Thomas’ hair, which he was growing out, and thought about what had been done to him. Daniel had told him about the truce with Steven and Brendon thought Ed and he had gone too easy on him. A written thank you note and some supplements! Brendon had read the half-baked thank you note. He wasn’t impressed, though Thomas told it basically serves as a written confession of his crimes. And the supplements were shit quality garbage from a convenience store. The club had thrown most of them out. At least they had made Steven waste a little more of his money, but it wasn’t enough punishment. Brendon didn’t believe Steven had nothing to do with the attack on his lover. He had humiliated Thomas and he deserved the same treatment. Why should the Muscle Gut Club take this treatment sitting down? Brendon remembered the time when Edmund would have turned that closeted psycho into his little bitch. Now he had grown soft. It was Aron, no doubt. Something in the little twink bought out Edmund’s gentle, caring side. He had never seen Edmund tend to anyone like he tended to sick Aron. It was almost like he forgot who the slave was. Brendon adjusted himself in bed. He felt a tingling in his lower back and let out a grunt. Thomas’ eyes quivered and he wiggled his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. Brendon felt his cock stir. He wanted to turn his little lover over right then and there and fuck him raw, but his back…. More than the lack of sex, though, he missed the heavy lifting. His doctor had told him to lay off the weights for a few weeks to give his back time to heel. It was killing him. He could feel the gym call to him and he couldn’t answer back. Much to the other club member’s surprise he even stopped eating so much. He just wasn’t that hungry. Faggot. The word bounced around in Brendon’s head as he looked down at Thomas. That word had been written on Thomas’ forehead. Funny, Brendon thought, very funny. Edmund and Daniel had told Thomas and him about Steven’s book of fantasies. Clearly, he was a “faggot” himself and yet he would try to humiliate someone else with that word. Then it came to him as if his mind had pulled it from the ether. I’ve got just the way to get back at Steven. Poetic, really. “I love you,” He whispered. “Huh.” Thomas opened his eyes. “I said I love you.” “I love you, too,” Thomas said, groggily. He pushed himself up and kissed Brendon on the lips. Brendon pulled him closer. Squeezing him tight, not wanting to let him go. The kiss lasted for only a few seconds, but it could have been a day. Brendon waited a week for his back to feel better. Then he made his way into The Phoenix Nightclub late in the evening. He had a date with an old friend. It was a Saturday and the front of the house was shaking. The DJ blasted rap music as students and townies gyrated and ground to the beat. Brendon made his way through the crowd toward the back of the house. Blue and green lights illuminated him as he pushed a black curtain to the side and entered a narrow hallway. The door to his left was open. He entered into a spacious room with burgundy walls and carpet. A recessed area in the center of the floor held a black leather sofa and coffee table. Brendon could see her dressed in a revealing red dress standing by a window. Her makeup was immaculate. Her breasts, perky, and her ass, the envy of any exotic dancer. “Jada.” Brendon held his arms out. “Hey big guy.” Her voice was quite feminine. You’d never realize Jada was once Jason. “How much bigger are planning on getting honey?” Brendon shrugged his shoulders. “Big enough to make the hulk look small.” Jada looked him up and down. “Well if you ever get sick of boys…” Brendon laughed. “Forgetting where you came from?” Jada rolled her eyes playfully. She sauntered down a step to the sofa and sat down. “Want something to drink?” She motioned to a bottle and glass on the coffee table. “I’m good. I would like to see the stuff, though.” Jada poured herself a tall drink. “It’s in that chest behind you.” Brendon turned around and saw a small brass chest on a tall narrow table and opened it. He picked up a bottle of pills and held them to the light. “So, a couple of these in his drink will knock him out for a few hours.” “That’s all it takes, honey.” “You sure?” Brendon was cautious. He had never done anything like this before, but he trusted Jada. She knew drugs like a pharmacist. “I’m sure.” Jada raised her eyebrows, putting on a haughty expression. “When will he be here.” “My girls have been working him for a few days now. He seemed real interested in coming to the club for a private show.” Brendon smiled. “He’s thirsty. Most guys that deep in denial about their sexuality usually are. They jump on any girl who shows a little interest. Makes them feel heterosexual.” “My girls showed more than a little interest. I had them basically begging for his cock.” Brendon looked around. “Is that where I’ll-” “Yes.” Jada stood up and walked over to a closet door. She stuck her finger into a hole where the knob should have been and opened it. “You’ll be in here.” “It’s a little small.” “You claustobic, or something?” “Claustrophobic, and no.” “This aint English class,” Jada put a hand on her hip. “Look, I know your plan. You told me, and I told my girls. They’ll take care of everything. All you got to do wait in here and he’ll be ready for you in ‘bout a minute. But… are you sure you want to go through with this?” “I’m sure.” “All right.” Jada pushed Brendon into the closet. “Now I got to go. A black tranny might ruin the mood for him if you know What I mean. Shhhhh.” Brendon crouched down and looked out the knob hole. He could see the couch. Jada was gone. He heard giggling coming from outside. Then a petite brunette with a beautiful figure appeared. She pulled Steven by the hand. He wore black slacks, a grey shirt, and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Have a seat,” said the brunette. A blond skipped into view, and plopped down on the couch next to Steven. Jada’s friends certainly were beautiful. If Brendon were straight, he might have jumped out that closet. “I can’t believe you’ve never been to this club,” Said the blond, pushing herself closer to Steven. “I usually go to The Castle,” Steven said. “But I’d have come here more if I knew they had ladies like you here.” The girls giggled. Brendon nearly gagged. “How is such a great guy like you single?” Said the brunette. “I had a girl, but now I’m taking a little time for myself.” “Hopefully you have time for us.” The blond squeezed his shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. They locked lips. Then the brunette grabbed him and took her turn. They had their hands all over him. Steven was getting into. He couldn’t have gotten much action this school year spending his days following the club around. The Brunette leaned back and squeezed his arm. “Do you work out? You feel strong.” “Well I used to. I guess I still have some muscle left, and I do bicep curls sometimes just to stay toned.” Steven raised his pathetic arms and flexed. Brendon would have let out a laugh if he wasn’t worried about being heard. The girls squeezed his arms and gasped. Steven smiled wider than he was when he entered the room. Any wider and his face would split. “Let’s get some drinks.” The Brunette jumped up and ran to the table with the chest. She pulled some glasses and a bottle from under it. Her back was toward Brendon but he knew what she was doing. The Blond made out with Steven passionately and kept him distracted. Moments later the brunette returned to the couch with three drinks on a tray. She handed Steven his. “Thank you.” Steven took a sip. “Old fashioned?” “With a modern twist.” The brunette smiled. Brendon smiled from behind the key hole. Steven finished his drink, and the girls continued feeling on his body. His head fell back and they stopped. The blond stood up first, followed by the brunette. Their cute smiles were replaced with serious expressions. The brunette walked over to the closet and opened the door. “He’s out like a light.” “That was fast,” Brendon said. Jada entered the room, as if she had been called. She walked to the couch and looked down at Steven. A look of worry crept over her face. She bent down and put two fingers on his neck. Then she held her hand in front of his mouth. Frantically, she grabbed at his wrists. “Fuck!” Jada shouted. “You dumb bimbos. How many pills did you give him? He’s dead!” “Dead!” Brendon fell back against the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! No.” The room began to spin. Brendon felt like he was going to puke. What had he done. He just needed him knocked out. He didn’t want him to die. What am I going to do? Jada looked at him and then burst into laughter. The two girls joined in. “Gotcha! Boy, you look shook. Haahaa!” “Jada, that was not funny.” Brendon exhaled and wiped sweat from his forehead. “Then why are we laughing? But on a serious note that will be $150.” Brendon handed her the money. “Buy a new weave with it.” “He’s all yours honey,” Jada said, ignoring the hair joke. Brendon lifted Steven up and swung him over his shoulders. Hopefully my back can make it. Brendon didn’t hear anything Sunday. The club stayed in, although it was a nice day. It was an unseasonably warm 65 degrees like the day before. Aron was feeling better. Well enough that he cooked a big meal of Korean style short ribs, with stir fried vegetables and rice, and, to Brendon’s surprise, ate two plates. That Monday, though, whispers swirled around campus like the wind. In Carver Dining Hall two girls chatted about a streaker downtown. Brendon listened intently. They say he ran from Washington ave., two blocks, to West Essex and disappeared behind some bushes. In Lecture hall 5 three guys chatted about a guy tied to a lamp post near campus, wearing nothing but sneakers and his underwear. They laughed about it. “Who was it?” One said. “I’m not sure.” said another. “I heard it was a guy from my Econ class. Steve, I think,” said the third. Brendon smiled to himself and sat quietly behind them as they spoke. I wonder if the club heard yet. That evening Brendon found out that they had. Edmund mentioned it at Dinner, though he didn’t say a name. Daniel laughed. Aron said it was probably someone that got way to drunk and his friends played a prank on him. “With friends like that who needs enemies?” Edmund said. Thomas looked at Brendon all throughout dinner, but didn’t say much until they were alone. Brendon stripped down and put on his pajama bottoms. He remained shirtless as he jumped into bed next to Thomas, causing his lover to bounce slightly. He felt a slight throbbing in his back. Perhaps carrying Steven all that way wasn’t the smartest move. This might increase my recovery time. Thomas leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. “I know what you did. I heard it was Steven that was tied to the post naked and I immediately knew it was you.” Brendon looked him in the eyes. “I did it for you.” “Did you really write all over him with a marker?” Thomas began to rub Brendon’s crotch. “Just a few words, oh, Thief, liar, hypocrite…mmm.” Thomas rubbed harder and faster as Brendon’s eight-inch cock stiffened. “and faggot.” Brendon grabbed Thomas’ shirt and peeled it off of him revealing his lover’s tight lean torso. He began to kiss and lick Thomas’ pecs, then up his neck, to his mouth. Thomas pushed down Brendon’s pants and Brendon returned the favor. Now, fully naked, Brendon turned Thomas over, ignoring the discomfort in his back, and squirted a shot of lube onto his stiff manhood. He pushed himself into Thomas’ asshole and began to pound his lover. Thomas grabbed the sheets and moaned with pleasure as Brendon grabbed and slapped his ass between thrusts. The bed shook into the night. Thirty: Steven The last thing Steven remembered was the feeling of the girls’ hands on his body. Then he awoke outside, naked, save for his boxers and sneakers, tied to a lamp post. He frantically tried to free himself, pulling at the ropes. Gawks and laughter filled the air around him as the late-night partiers and very early risers filled the sidewalk around him. How did I get here? What did those girls do to me? What was in that drink? He pulled his hands out of the ropes after much effort and then undid the binding on his feet. He ran down the sidewalk on stiff joints. His head pounded like his brain was trying to push its way out. A group of girls turned a corner in front of him and he darted to the side to hide behind a tree. Steven made his way down the sidewalk. Upon catching a glimpse of himself in a storefront window he noticed that his skin had been written on. One word in particular caught his attention: Faggot. It was sprawled across his forehead. Wasn’t that what the Lambdas did to Thomas? He rubbed at the word. It smudged slightly. He spat on his hand and tried again with little improvement. Permanent marker. He would have to deal with it later. You were conned little faggot. Did you really think those girls were interested in a cocksucker like you? The voice in his head taunted him. You should have been home jerking off to pictures of Edmund and the club instead of trying to get laid with girls way out of your league. You’re just a little faggot. Accept it and move on. “No! I’m not a faggot,” Steven shouted and then quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard. Steven ran home as if the voice in his head was chasing him and he could outrun it. He couldn’t. The club did this to me. I know it. They broke the truce. Steven was fuming. He had fully expected the club to uphold its end of the bargain. They played you. The voice in his head began again. Not only are they better looking than you, but they are smarter, too. No. The gears in Steven’s head began to turn. If they were smart, they wouldn’t have broken a deal with me. They think having me run down the street half naked is humiliating wait until I show them what humiliation is. I can’t take them down alone. I see that now. But if the weight of the whole campus fell down upon them, they wouldn’t be able to stand no matter how big and strong they were. They will fall and I’ll still keep my end of the bargain. I won’t touch them of their property. With the campus’ help I won’t have to. Their friends, their families, their teachers, everyone will do it for me. They’ll be driven and I will have won. Steven was feeling quite good with himself despite the fact that he was standing outside, half-naked in the cool night air. You think you’re so smart. All this because you won’t admit what you are. The voice spoke. The club didn’t make you a muscle loving homo. You were always that way. They just helped you realize a truth that you can’t handle. Steven didn’t understand. What was happening to him? It was the voice that gave him the idea to attack the club. Now it seemed like the same voice wanted him to give-up and live some homo lifestyle. No! He wouldn’t. The club could not win. The club would not win. All he had to do was decide when to enact his plan. There was no rush. Springtime, the time of new beginnings. Steven walked up to his apartment and forced a window open. He crawled in and immediately began packing bags. He would have no more unexpected visits from the club. No more negotiations. No more talking.
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