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About VRGoh


  • This profile is a...
    real profile.
  • Gender
  • Orientation
  • What are your stats?
    Last weighed at 135lbs. at 5'8" tall.
  • What are your dream stats?
    At least 50 pounds of lean muscle and ripped to shreds.

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  1. VRGoh


    As much as people have said it, I always enjoy reading anything written by this talented writer. Austin is the kind of alpha male that inspires scores of stories and sexual fantasies. Can't wait for another story from you, musclehintz.
  2. R Kelly was a singer back in the 1990s, popular in America's R&B genre, but I don't know how popular he was abroad. As far as "why should he matter," he doesn't. These days, he's a washed-up singer who's only famous for getting too friendly with young girls.
  3. To answer the OP's question, I got bored with his music before the first allegations started popping up. It was nothing against him specifically; I'm just not a big fan of R&B, or most music written in the last 200 years. Give me Brahms, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, and Chopin and I'm good.
  4. VRGoh

    Halloween Idea

    I just had an idea that sprouted from Discord. Since Halloween is days away, I was wondering if anyone could think of Halloween costumes that would best show off the impressive muscles of our local muscle-guys. I'd imagine constant repeats of Hercules, the Hulk, and Superman are getting old. Maybe something to expand the options is in order. I thought of Machoke for Halloween and, if they were so inclined, cosplay. Any others?
  5. VRGoh

    Using other people's characters

    When it comes to using another person's character or writing something in the same universe as someone else's story, I'm careful to give them credit, usually in the title. "Variations on a Theme from [name of author]" or something like that.
  6. I've thought a bit about what I would do when i reach my goal physique. First thing I'd do is take measurements. Arms, pecs, you name it. Of course, I'd take pictures and post them here and on the Discord channel. Then I'd set another goal for my physique and start chasing that. "Okay, I've hit 200 pounds of ripped muscle; now to aim for 250, and beyond." Since I'm 5'8" tall, I would probably look like a tank on legs. Edit: Of course, there would definitely be some jacking off and flexing involved, both me and any willing sex partners.
  7. I've noticed that. With some, even up here in New York State, the phrase "gun control" gets interpreted as "gun grabbing" every time a mass shooting hits the news. I often resist the urge to remind them that one of the U.S. military's 10 Nimitz-class aircraft carriers has enough firepower to level the city in which I live, not to mention the various heavy ordnance that can be brought in from the ground. If the government wanted to instill a totalitarian regime, there's not a blessed thing a bunch of country bumpkins with AR-15s and hunting rifles can do to stop it. There is no easy way to prevent a school shooting, though people are consistently looking for a simple solution to a complex problem. Some shootings could've been easily prevented. For example, why did the mother of the Sandy Hook shooter (whom I will not name out of respect for his victims) not have her "big, beautiful rifles" locked in a safe if she knew her son was this disturbed? She should've had those things secured in a gun safe or locked somehow. I've never had a gun in the house in my life and even I know that much.
  8. It's both depressing and infuriating whenever there's another school shooting, because I know the pattern. As some of you may know, ten people were shot in a mass shooting at a high school in Texas recently. Here's an article about it: https://www.cnn.com/us/live-news/santa-fe-texas-shooting The problem is that I've come to notice a pattern when these shootings occur. First, information is released about the shooter. A stupid idea in my opinion, as it gives future shooters ideas as some school shooters were inspired by the 1999 school shootings in Littleton, Colorado. Next, the local pundits weigh in with their thoughts on how to prevent the next shooting. The ideas rarely change. Some cry for gun control, while others cry for more guns in schools. Some have called for arming teachers. Yeah, great idea; bad enough that the results of the standardized tests can determine whether or not they have a job next school year, leaving the whole school stressed out to no end. You're gonna give them a gun too? Sure, what could go wrong? *turns off sarcasm* This will continue until the dust settles and little, if anything, is done. Then, when another shooting happens at a school, it starts up again. Round and round we go. At least now, the students who survived the Parkland shooting are making noise about it and saying, "Enough is enough." Now, it seems some parents are getting involved, so there's some hope. Here's hoping that they don't let us forget and grow complacent.
  9. VRGoh

    An Encounter with Matt

    Good point. Edited for more physical accuracy.
  10. VRGoh

    An Encounter with Matt

    It was a long time coming, but I was finally able to afford that vacation. After some finagling and more than a few hopes and prayers, I got two weeks off for my trip to Mexico. Granted, I'd only be there for a week, but I decided to use the extra seven days as a buffer: three days before to prepare for the trip, and four days afterwards to unpack, do laundry, and prepare for the daily slog. When I woke up that first morning in my hotel room instead of a cramped apartment, I knew my vacation had officially begun. I changed into my blue swim-trunks, a T-shirt, and flip-flops and headed down for breakfast before heading to the beach. However, as soon as I open the door to my hotel, I'm greeted by what I initially thought to be an oddly-formed wall of stone. On second glance, I realize that this isn't a wall of stone, but of muscle. I feel a stirring in my groin as I look in shock as the largest, most muscular human male that I have ever seen. I quietly closed the door to my room so as to not disturb this scene. He had to be close to seven feet tall and at least 400 pounds of muscle or so. His shoulders were cannonballs carved like cantaloupes, set so wide that doors were a challenge. Between his shoulders and his taurine neck, a pair of thick traps swelled to resemble footballs, while a pair of inhumanly huge cannons for arms descended along his sides. The beast's massive back was to me, a platform of ridges and valleys that looked to be carved expertly from stone to resemble a manta ray. His wide back tapered down dramatically to a tight waist, making him look even more freaky. His legs, clad in only a pair of red shorts, were each as much around as his waist, if not more so, and he stood with a bearing that demanded respect, awe, and outright worship. I hadn't seen this beast's entire body, and my inner muscle-lover was already ready to worship him for the god of muscle that he was. "Holy shit, you're huge," I heard myself say, in spite of myself. I clapped my hands over my mouth, but too late. The beast turned around, expansive pecs coming into view. My God, he looked like a Greek god. Every muscle was etched to perfection and massive beyond human reason. His powerful chest and adamantine abs looked able to deflect bullets and bend steel bars with no effort at all. I stood there, likely slack-jawed at this god of strength and muscle, my cock rock-hard at the sight of this divine being. "Heh, thanks, little man," the god intoned, his resonant baritone rumbling through me like an earthquake. He bounced a pec absently, and I nearly moaned out loud. I shook my head to bring myself back to reality. "Oh, uh, um, I-I, uh... Sorry for staring, I..." I said, attempting to stammer out an apology. "It's alright, dude," he said, chuckling as he smiled at me. "I get that a lot." "As big as you are, I'm not surprised," I respond, finally recovering enough of my mental faculties to form a complete sentence. "Name's Matt, though everyone calls me Muscles," he said, holding out a hand. I shake his hand, or rather, I allow my hand to be momentarily swallowed by his massive, calloused paw. "I think I can guess as to why," I respond with snark. "Jason. So, 'everyone calls me Muscles,' what brings you to Mexico?" "Would you believe the ruins?" he asked. "Not really. The tour bus to the ruins left an hour ago, and there isn't another one until tomorrow." "Okay, I'm here to see someone about some roids. More specifically, a special formula that I was gonna pick up." "You're not worried about the side effects? Gynecomastia, bad acne, roid rages..." "Nah, I'm prepared to counteract those. Besides, this is a special formula. None of those side effects. Plus the results speak for themselves." At this he flexed a bicep, grunting as the mountain of muscle leaped into relief before my eyes. I refrained from licking his bicep and worshiping him right there. "Looks like you like what you see," he said, noticing my reverent staring at his guns. "I've, um, always been impressed by guys who can build their bodies that big," I said in response. "It's been kind of a goal of mine to get that muscular and built." "Sure, Jason," he said with a sideways smile. "You looked more like someone who would worship my muscles rather than build your own." All pretenses dropped, it seems. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "It's all I can do to keep from worshiping your godlike physique right here and now. I mean, you're built like a comic book super-hero and look just as super-strong. Part of me wants to worship your every muscle, and part of me wants to become as huge as you. Is that too weird?" "Not weird at all," he said. "Let's meet in the lobby at about five. I've got a surprise for you that you're gonna love." I emphatically nod, trying not to seem to eager to see what this god of muscle has in store for me. When he headed around the corner to the elevator, I couldn't get back in my room fast enough. Quickly running to the bathroom, I stripped down to my birthday suit and closed my eyes to imagine this god standing before me. The Matt in my imagination was standing before me in all his glory, flexing his inhumanly massive muscles for me, his fervent worshiper. I jerked to this conjured image of my muscle god, envisioning my hands across his powerful pecs, his cannonball shoulders, his godlike arms and abs, and his tree-trunk legs. It was all I could do to keep from shouting his name and proclaiming him to all within earshot as a god made flesh, beautiful and powerful and worthy of my most fervent kratolagniac praises. I bit my lip as I orgasmed, my cum arcing up to splatter across my lean torso, an alabaster tribute to Matt's powerful body.
  11. VRGoh

    Write Caption Stories With Me!

    I can always spot the muscle-pigs. Most barely look at me, but the ones I want are the ones whose eyes stay locked on to me for longer than the time it takes to notice how to walk around me. They're the ones who will have an intense conversation with my pecs rather than looking me in the eye, or the ones who try not to look like they've been staring at me behind my back. Ever since I found that genie and wished to be an irresistible muscle hunk, I've been getting looks from just those kinds of people. And I love every minute of it. If they take a picture of me, then I know I can move in. Like this one for instance. A 20-something girl took this one while chilling at the park. She asked for a photo, so I decide to give them both some future masturbation fuel. That's when I pounced. About an hour later, she was in my apartment, screaming my name as I plowed her pussy with my foot-long man-missile. Another one added to the book.
  12. VRGoh

    Write Caption Stories With Me!

    (Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft; no copyright infringement intended) Ever heard that old saying, "never judge a book by its cover?" Well, that basically describes me. When I tell people I'm 35 years old, they're shocked. "You don't look a day over 25," they'd say. "What's your secret to looking so young?" is another thing I'd get. Hitting the gym two hours a day, six days a week, since I was in high school helps a great deal. Not to mention not eating so much crap. Of course, there's another benefit to pumping iron so much: I have a little fuck-toy every night, as I have since college. Men, women, doesn't matter. This 10"-by-7" hole-stretcher of mine has plowed many a mouth, ass, and pussy over the years, and it will continue to please horny men and women for as long as I can get it up. I also surprise people when I log into my World of Warcraft account. Most people assume that, behind the digital image of my level 110 draenei paladin (retribution with holy offspec) is either an obese 40-something in his mother's basement or a skinny kid in a dorm somewhere. They get the shock of a lifetime when I tell them to tune into my stream, only for them to see this huge hunk of man-muscle giving a gratuitous flex of my guns for every new follower and subscriber. Every Tuesday and Wednesday from 7pm-10pm Eastern, I'm raiding with my guild. But I'm plowing someone every single night, making them scream my name, and wanting more of this muscle-beast. Why, just last night, I ran into a guy I knew in high school who used to pick on the gay guys. He told me that he regretted his actions, but only after he begged to have a taste of my Ashbringer.
  13. Basically, I'd do this.
  14. VRGoh

    Calling all men powerful and alpha

    This is what I get for not taking French in high school. I can translate very little of what Cardiff said, (something about a "bull on the head of a man" I think) but I'm sure it is a hot idea. I can read it, but I sing it better than I speak it.
  15. VRGoh

    NEW Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!

    You should be able to download the app to your computer, and use the link from there. I can only assume it's the same for smartphones since I don't have one. On a side note, it's a great app for online games like World of Warcraft, which is why I still find it weird to use it for this website.

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