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Xyggurat

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About Xyggurat

  • Rank
    50+ Posts
  • Birthday 06/13/84

Profile

  • Location
    San Diego, CA
  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
    Male
  • Orientation
    Gay
  • What are your interests?
    Writing, lifting, running, whiskey, wine, and occasionally staring into the existential abyss.
  • What are your stats?
    5'8, 175 pounds
  • What are your dream stats?
    A wise man once said, "Don't dream it. Be it." And then he was murdered by his incestuous butler.
  • Got Any Fetishes?
    Muscle growth, muscle theft, and occasionally breakfast in bed. Wait, that last part doesn't count?

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  1. theft

    Have I mentioned that I enjoy hot, dirty muscle theft stories? 'Cuz I do. -X-
  2. Nawp. I do want to write more, but my work-life balance has been firmly on the side of 'work' lately. -X-
  3. First of, thank you so much. Second, "The Symbiote War" is only based on the title of an abortive sequel to "The Roommate" and isn't my work, but is fantastically written by user theseventhwave. -X-
  4. Thanks for the upvotes and kind comments, folks. They are much appreciated! I'll try to do right by you guys with the rest of this tale. -X-
  5. No, I don't always check the forum with regularity. Good on you guys for your hard work. -X-
  6. Hi, guys. I wrote stuff for you. My thanks to Arbotimus, who did his part to end the muscle theft drought on the forums. -X- ---------------- Part I On a blustery day in mid-autumn, the right guy finally crossed Noah’s path. It was a quarter past four in the afternoon, and just after Noah should have been leaving to head home. But he’d taken a walk-in client at noon and it had pushed all of his other appointments back by a scant few minutes. Otherwise, he might have gone his entire life without ever meeting the one. That’s just how these things happen, sometimes. He had just thrown on his jacket when he glimpsed a figure slipping through the front door of the gym in a flashfire swirl of bright-colored leaves. It should have ended there: the newcomer was far from Noah’s type, short and thin and with nary a hint of muscle under his tight shirt. But something about him held Noah’s gaze. The newcomer was handsome, in a fine-boned way. He had sharp features and skin that freckled more than tanned. His eyes were a bright and guileless blue. And there was something about the set of his jaw that spoke of firm determination. He trudged up to the front desk with the grimace of a man facing execution. Somehow, in the same time, Noah had crossed the distance between his office and the desk. He’d made no conscious decision to move, but his feet had carried him forward like they had a mind of their own. He pushed past one of the girls on duty, keenly aware that he should be heading home for another meal of chicken and broccoli. Another meal alone. He stopped in front of the newcomer. “Can I help you?” he asked. The guy looked up at him. Way up. At just over six feet, Noah was tall, but not exceptionally so. The newcomer didn’t even come up to the nape of his neck. He was definitely not Noah’s type. Too thin. Too small. “I’m new,” said the guy. “Do you work here?” To answer, Noah smirked and pulled back the left breast of his jacket. Beneath was his shiny red shirt and name tag. “NOAH,” it said, in big block letters. Beneath them was an equally bold word: “TRAINER”. The new guy blushed. Noah couldn’t be certain if those blue eyes lingered for an extra moment on the expanse of his big, pumped chest. He told himself he didn’t care. They probably weren’t even playing for the same team. “Sorry. Of course you do,” said the new guy. Noah grinned. “What can I do for you?” “Make me look like you.” Noah glanced at the clock. His schedule was already pretty full. He really didn’t need any more clients. But the holidays were coming up, and the extra money would be nice. Yeah, he decided. Dinner alone could wait. “Doable. Depends on how hard you’re willing to work,” he said. “I think I’m willing. I guess we’ll find out,” said the new guy, extending his hand. “I’m Will.” Noah took Will’s hand. A faint shock sparked between their fingers as they touched. It wasn’t painful, but both of them drew back and shared an uncomfortable laugh. Noah reached out and completed the handshake, his large and calloused hand engulfing the softness of Will’s. “Noah,” he said. ***** Their first training session was early the next morning. Will had insisted. It wasn’t that he thought he would get huge quick; he’d been clear about that when they had talked about his goals. He’d just wasted enough of his life being scrawny, and he didn’t see much point in waiting any longer. That and the fact that he’d prepaid for a dazzlingly large number of sessions sold it for Noah. He had rescheduled his first client right away. Will arrived five minutes early, just as Noah was finishing his morning protein shake. He knocked at the door of Noah’s office, peeking in like he was entering a lion’s den. When he saw what Noah was drinking, he made a face. “What is that?” Will asked. “Protein shake. Just protein and water.” Will was wearing a white tee, gym shorts, and some ragged old tennis shoes. There was something refreshingly unpretentious about that. He hadn’t, like a lot of new gym goers, bought a bunch of ill-fitting tank tops or Under Armour gear, or fluorescent shoes. He looked like he was there to work, and Noah appreciated that. “It looks awful,” said Will. “Does it taste good?” Noah shrugged. “The truth is… after a while, you stop noticing the taste. It’s all about making your macros.” Will frowned. “Which are…” “We’ll get there,” said Noah. “For now, let’s see what we’re working with.” The scale only confirmed what Noah’s eyes saw plainly: Will was little more than skin and bone. He weighed in at just a hair under 130 pounds, a fact that made his nose wrinkle as Noah recited it aloud. “I didn’t know I was that light,” Will said. Noah scribbled the figure down on his clipboard. “How tall are you?” “Five foot six.” A pause. “Okay, five-five.” “That’s not so bad,” Noah said. “Shorter guys always look bigger than taller ones.” Will snorted. “I don’t think my body got that memo.” “Well, let’s send it a message,” said Noah. He led Will over to one of the benches and loaded it up with a couple of plates on either side. It was his normal warmup weight: 225. He slid beneath the bar and gripped the cold steel. “This is a bench press,” he said. “It’s one of the most effective exercises you can do, along with squats and deadlifts.” “Why do those all sound like torture devices?” Will asked. Noah proceeded to do a smooth set of fifteen presses. He made sure to keep his reps slow and steady; his form perfect. In his periphery, he noted Will watching intently. He couldn’t tell if his client was surveying his bench form, or if those keen eyes were admiring the solid swell of his chest as he completed each rep. Finished, he hopped up from the bench. “Got it?” “You made it look pretty easy.” Will’s cheeks were a little flushed, as if he’d been the one warming up. Noah told himself they might just be red from the cold. Will settled underneath the bench and tried to push off. The bar didn’t move. “Hold up there, man,” said Noah. “Let me take some weight off.” “That might help,” said Will. Now Noah was sure Will was blushing. His red cheeks really made the freckles on his nose stand out. He grinned to himself while he took the weights off of either side, leaving Will with just the bar. Will grimaced. “Shouldn’t you put some weight on it?” “Start light, focus on good form and slow, controlled reps. I promise you’ll get up to two plates if you stick with it.” “I’m going to hold you to that,” said Will. With a sigh of resignation, he pushed the bar off the struts and lowered it to his chest. His first rep was a little quick, with poor control. The second saw the bar tilting as his left arm pushed higher than the right. With each rep, Noah offered little corrections. By the time Will had completed ten reps, his form was looking pretty decent. He racked the weight and sat up on the bench. With one hand, he massaged his chest, wincing. There were no pecs there to speak of. “Burns,” he said. “Yeah, it’ll do that, if you’re doing it right,” said Noah. “Still want to try for two plates?” Will shook his head. “I think I’ll hold off. Don’t want to make you look bad.” Noah laughed. After a couple more sets on the bench, he took Will through deadlifts, which he was surprisingly good at, and squats, which he wasn’t. By the time they had corrected his squat form, Will was drenched in sweat and they had gone a few minutes over time. Noah barely glanced at the clock before taking Will over to do shoulder presses, then skullcrushers. He decided to finish their session with some biceps curls at the preacher bench. He loaded up a bar and powered through some perfect curls. Midway through, he noticed that Will was definitely staring. He set the weight down and glanced over at his client. “What?” Noah asked. Will shook himself out of his reverie. “Sorry, I was just… your arms are scary huge, you know that? It looks like you have softballs stuck in there.” His face was bright red. Noah eyed him. That didn’t mean that Will had been checking him out. Lots of guys were impressed with his arms, after all. Not many men could legitimately claim nineteen inch peaks. “These little guys?” Noah asked. He brought his right arm up into a powerful flex. Will’s face darkened from red to crimson. Then, clearly realizing that he was staring again, he tore his eyes from Noah’s biceps and focused on the preacher bench. “My turn, right?” he asked. Will pushed past him and got into position. Noah found himself watching Will’s arms as his client struggled through his first few curls. He really didn’t have much muscle tone, just the barest hint of a curve showing when his arms strained to rep the weight. He finished the set with a loud groan, letting the bar clatter to the rack. “All right,” he wheezed. “What’s next?” “You’re all done,” said Noah. “But we just--” Will’s eyes traveled up to the clock on the far wall. “We’ve been here for an hour and a half? But I only paid for a 45-minute session.” “Don’t worry about it,” said Noah. “The extra time’s on me.” He regretted his words the instant after he spoke. He worked hard for his clients, but training was how he made his living. He couldn’t afford to just give away his time like that. But it was too late now. Will mopped at the sweat on his brow with his towel. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” “Don’t worry about it.” “So,” Will said, glancing up. “Are you going to keep me?” “I guess so. Today was an easy day, though,” said Noah. “Tomorrow will be harder, then?” Will sounded miserable. “Tomorrow, you’re resting. Trust me, by tonight, you’re going to be pretty sore. Give yourself two days to recover and then I’ll beat you up again,” said Noah. Will offered a hesitant smile. His teeth were straight and white. “Okay. Deal.” ***** Noah, Will discovered, had been a master of understatement. By the time that night had crept around, his entire body felt like it had been through a meat tenderizer. And so, at the embarrassingly early hour of eight, Will threw himself down onto his bed. As he started to drift off into exhausted sleep, he found himself thinking of his new trainer. God, the guy was an Adonis. Will didn’t think he’d ever seen someone hotter. Those steel grey eyes. The dark beard-shadow highlighting a jaw you could cut glass with. And then there was his voice, deep and husky in a way that seemed to reverberate in Will’s gut every time he spoke. That was saying nothing of his body. The way his form-fitting red uniform shirt clung to those powerful shoulders; his broad, deep chest. There was an eroticism to how Noah’s clothes stretched over his frame. He might be easier to be around if he didn’t wear any. Will could barely look at the guy without fighting a hard-on. But now he was alone, and he didn’t need to. He toyed with the memory of Noah demonstrating preacher curls for him. The bar held more weight than Will could even squat, and Noah had curled it effortlessly, over and over. The way the veins on his biceps peaks had pulsed under his thin, tanned skin as they fed blood to the taut muscles. Will was hard in a second, his cock pushing insistently against his shorts, eager to be freed. Will tore his dick free, reveling in the hot, hard length of it as he caressed it with his hand. He wasn’t especially big, just a hair under six inches, but he was hard as iron. The urgent stroking of his hand set his nerves ablaze. He went straight for the coup-de-grace. The image of Noah, towering over him and flexing, looking cocky and self-assured, filled his mind. Every detail of that moment was etched there indelibly. Even the smell of him: deodorant and just the faintest odor of clean, fresh sweat. “Noah. Fuck…” he grunted. His hips bucked involuntarily. His balls spasmed. Searing pleasure echoed down his spine and surged up the meager length of his cock. Like a wild beast, it spewed wildly, sending droplets of hot jism raining down on his sweaty skin. A second dilated into eternity. But eternity ended. Will collapsed onto his coverlet, boneless, like a rag doll, panting as if he’d had another workout. The afterglow of his incredible orgasm suffused his limbs, settling into his sore muscles with a comforting warmth. He’d never cum like that before. It wasn’t just the orgasm. For a moment, he felt… masculine. That was the only way to describe it: strong. He flexed one tortured arm, felt it with his hand, and was surprised at how hard it felt. But then the reality of his thin physique crept back in, leaving him wanting more. He couldn’t wait to work out again. ***** Across town, at the gym, Noah was getting in a workout of his own. He was settled on the same bench press he’d taught Will on that morning. Although he was tired after a full day of appointments, he felt good. Happy, although he couldn’t quite say why. Good enough to be going for a personal best on the bench press: 405. Four plates on either side, and something told him he was going to do it tonight. He locked his arms out, pressed off, and stabilized the weight. Every millisecond was an agony as he lowered the bar to his chest, then pressed it back up. One. He did it again, counting his heartbeats to keep himself from repping too fast. Two. He was feeling good about making four reps when suddenly, a wave of dizziness traveled through him. It lasted for a mere moment, but in its wake, he found his arms trembling under the weight. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to bring the bar down. He pushed. The bar did not move. Panic welled up in his chest. He sucked in a ragged breath. No one else was in the gym. With a growl, Noah put all of his might behind getting the weight up. He didn’t care about completing the rep well, or finishing it at all. To his relief, it rose. It took the rest of his strength to send the bar clattering back onto the struts. Gasping for air, he sat up on the bench, blinking away the little dark stars that crowded in on his field of vision. He’d been so certain he was going to blow away his old max. He gave the bar a baleful look. It wasn’t going to happen that night, for sure. He felt like he had run a marathon, and his chest was on fire. For a moment, his thoughts strayed back to Will, and how much he had struggled with the bar. “Always room to improve,” he reminded himself, getting up to close the gym for the night.
  7. Now, that was a hot bit of muscle theft! Excellent work. -X-
  8. What's nice is that it shows clearly what is most important to each of the siblings in how they get revenge on each other. Brad takes his brother's muscles, intellect, and stature from him because those are what he sees as defining their relationship. Derek takes their familial connection away, because he's obviously the better person and he sees that as punishment enough. It's a bit tragic that Brad is probably too irredeemable to know what he's lost because it's not tangible to him. ...did I mention I'm doing theme work on (non-erotic) novel #3? Because that's where all of this blabbing is coming from. -X-
  9. I actually enjoyed your continuation a lot. One thing that bothered me about the original ending was how horribly unfair it seemed. This was a pretty just punishment. (You know, because people care about my literary analysis of erotica.) -X-
  10. Hah. I'll throw in my encouragement. -X-
  11. You know, I've never visited that site on mobile before, but that's super weird. Just check it out on your desktop and you should be fine. -X-
  12. http://www.pridesites.com/omelissokomos/solomon/jock-hunter-01.html There you go. -X-
  13. growth

    Here's my obligatory bump and hope for a continuation of this story! -X-
  14. Having gotten in and out of shape a few times, I can add a few things. After three years of going consistently, I'm coming back to it from two months off due to an unrelated injuries, and it's bringing back my memories of early training. 1) Your first day is not indicative of your overall gym experience. Your body is totally unused to this. If you feel completely miserable during the first month or so, let me just say this: it will get better. 2) Set a schedule and stick to it. If you don't plan out when you're going to go and hold yourself accountable, you will stop. 3) Start low and slow. Do less weight than you think you are able to do at first. Your muscles will get a workout still and you will hopefully start with better form than most novices. 4) Eat right and research diet. You have to eat to grow. Gym is always a grueling experience and you want to be sure you're maximizing gains for effort made. -X-