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  1. Guest

    Yoga Mates

    Jason woke up, blinking tiredly as he stepped into the dorm bathroom. Sighing in exhaustion as he brusquely felt his short, black hair, he examined his plain, basically featureless face, complete with dull dark brown eyes, wondering what new acne had popped up this time. Grunting in annoyance, the college junior all but stumbled into the shower, turning on the water as he slowly woke up. Running his hands over his bony, skinny body and nonexistent rear, Jason mentally prepared himself for yet another dreary day. Donning his usual sweatpants and heavy jacket, he grabbed his bag and headed into the lobby. But when he saw the ad on the bulletin board, his interest piqued. “Your regular old flamboyant yoga class. Bring your tight pants!,” it said. Jason had been a huge yoga fanatic a while ago, and that certainly did sound promising to meet guys! Eh, what was the harm? It would certainly alleviate his boredom. And so Jason walked into the new fitness club, yoga mat under his arm. He just planned to try a class or two. It was free, after all, and no sensible college boy paid for anything he didn’t have to. And the ad sounded promising to meet new boys; there were plenty of gays at Jason’s college, but they were all a little too flashy. Jason liked it when gays could just be subtle like himself…not wear tight-ass clothes or god forbid crop tops and stuff. It just got to be humiliating for the rest of them at some point! So when his eyes took in the barrage of booty shorts and excessive bare skin poking out everywhere, he almost groaned aloud. Nope, no thank you, gotta go. He had almost turned around when a very loud, very high pitched voice cut through him like a knife. “Hi there~!” He bit his lip and turned slowly. Sauntering toward him was a very effeminate, limp-wristed boy not much older than he was. The initial reaction was slight revulsion, but on second glance, Jason found his mouth going dry. The guy was absolutely breathtaking. Long strawberry blond hair, the most startlingly blue eyes, aquiline nose, and cheekbones he could cut himself on. Then again, all the guys in this club seemed to be amazingly attractive. And all of them were in seriously peak condition. With the abundance of crop tops and short shorts, Jason could easily see the pronounced abs, firm muscles, and delightfully thick lower bodies. His disgust for the place rapidly turned to a profound lust. The gorgeous boy in front smiled a breathtaking grin and held out his perfectly manicured, flimsy hand. “I’m Danny! Are you Jason?” Jason nodded quietly, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth again. “Good of you to join! Come on…we’ve got a spot in the back.” There were only about a dozen stunning boys in the class, none older than Jason by the looks of it. They all smiled politely, a few waving. Jason suddenly felt very overdressed in his jacket and sweatpants. As if reading his mind, Danny smiled. “You’re fine. Everyone starts the same.” Jason barely registered the comment, instead trying not to stare at the ballooned bubble butt in front of him. Blinking hard, he smiled nervously at Danny, trying not to gawk at the college boy’s beautiful face. “You’ll fit right in, Jason baby!” Jason blinked at the pet name, but dismissed as friendly gay welcoming. Danny turned, his wrists dangling limply as he sauntered back to the front. “Ready, people? Starting with downward dog! Jason, you’ll pick up quick. Don’t worry.” Danny fiddled with his iPhone, and before long a soothing, meditative melody came over the speaker. Jason found his apprehension and tentativeness slipping away as the stretches came easier and easier to him. He’d practiced yoga before, and this was just like back in the day. The time absolutely flew by, with Jason’s stress melting away, his eyes not so much staring at the perfect boys in the room as just taking them all in. By class’s end, Jason felt transformed. He massaged his light shoulder as he picked up his stuff. The rest of the boys all left, but a few waved him goodbye. Danny approached him as he was leaving. “You have fun?” “I did! Definitely coming back tomorrow.” Danny clapped his hands happily, and Jason noticed with some dismay that he had adorned them with nearly a dozen jingly, flashy hoop bracelets. “Oh good! Glad you liked it! Here.” He handed Jason a bottle and towel, along with a scented soap. “Compliments of the group! Come back soon~” Jason smiled disarmingly and headed out, pleasantly light headed. Upon arriving back on campus, he found himself wonderfully productive and clear-minded, thanks to the routine. It was very effective, even if the people were a bit flamboyant. Still, he wasn’t going to be seen or anything. As he lay down to sleep, he smiled for the hundredth time that day, yoga music still playing in his head. It had been a good day, after all! - - - - - - - - - - Jason woke up the next morning, a little more chipper than the previous morning. Smiling to himself slightly as he brushed his chestnut hair off his forehead, he tilted his head, watching his hazel eyes catch the light slightly, freckles adding a decently cute effect today. He stepped into the shower, hands lingering over his toned, but firm muscles and slight butt. Fully awake, he hesitated only briefly before grabbing his sports jacket and designer jeans. Had to make a good impression on the alarmingly handsome boys at the yoga place today! Maybe he’d hit it off with one of them. Heck, Danny had seemed nice enough, as flashy as he was. The day just about crawled as Jason eagerly awaited his yoga club. But it did arrive, and he had to force himself not to sprint into the room. Danny was there, as limp-wristed and effeminate as ever. Oh well. He made it work with those stunning features of his. Danny waved happily and the rest smiled at him. Flushing slightly, Jason took his spot. Just like before, a sort of mystic trance came over Jason, the time seeming to fly by. Before he realized it, the music stopped and the time was up. Danny approached him again afterward, smiling happily. “I’m so~ glad you made it again! Thinking about sticking with it?” “I am! This is so relaxing…I could do it all week.” Danny smiled dazzlingly. “Here’s hoping you do! Catch you tomorrow?” Jason nodded happily. “Count on it!” Jason was already so relaxed by the time he got home he almost fell asleep. But sadly, he had work to do. So he forced himself to plug through the work, his mind calm and tranquil despite the rage-inducing work that was his Calc class. His mind kept drifting to the boys…their enormous muscles and beautiful features. God, it was like he was in a Greek mythology story. The question was, would he eventually be welcomed by the demigods or eaten by them? Chuckling to himself, he distracted himself for a few more minutes before forcing himself to finish his work. His mind in a daze, Jason glanced at his roommate’s empty bed, wondering just how long the idiot was going to keep partying. If he wasn’t coming back drunk, he was coming back high. Ah well. Jason climbed into his own bed, smiling to himself as he drifted off. - - - - - - - - - - Jason woke up, stretching happily as he made his way into the bathroom. Running his hands through his long, silky, dirty blond hair, he grinned at himself, admiring his plush lips, gorgeously freckled face, arched cheekbones and strong jaw. He was a cutey! Winking one dark green eye at himself, he sauntered into the shower, pausing every so often to rub his pumped, swollen muscles and bloated bubble booty, biting his fat lower lip as he slipped a finger into his dense cheeks. Humming happily to himself, he slipped open his drawers, taking a few minutes to lay out his clothes and select a matching outfit. He had to look good, after all. Finally he settled on a very flattering athletic top and skinny jeans. Admiring himself in the mirror, he ran his hands over his bulging outfit, fingers molding his heavy pecs and thick lower body. Smiling yet again, he pulled on his tight gloves and scarf and just about skipped out the door. His foot tapped impatiently in his stylish boots all day. God, classes were so boring! He just needed to see those beautiful, wonderfully lively boys at the club again! As he raised his hand to answer another question, mind barely in his class, he noticed one of the guys give him a sideways glance, probably at the effeminate lilt to his voice. Jason didn’t care. He loved his voice. Let people know what team he was playing for. Well, that and his flawless fashion set and gorgeous face, obviously. He smiled slightly at his false sense of arrogance and went back to daydreaming. God, he couldn’t wait for yoga today! So when Jason walked in and everyone’s face lit up, his spirit lightened tremendously. He waved a hand flashily, smiling eagerly. “Hi guys!” Everyone waved and greeted him, Danny coming up to warmly put a hand around his shoulder. Jason’s hand went around Danny’s waist, not at all flirtatiously, and Danny hardly seemed to mind. “How are ya today, Jason?” “Ready for some stretching~!” Danny smiled, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit! Looking good today~” Jason flushed slightly, jerking his hand downward. “Oh, you charmer~!” Danny smirked and headed to the front, with Jason’s eye tracking that nice swollen butt moving in Danny’s yoga pants. Going to his spot, Jason settled down for yet another great day. And he wasn’t disappointed. Hot, lithe bodies flexing and stretching all around him, that beautifully soothing music, the feeling of euphoria and relaxation seeping into his very bones, god it was great. He made eye contact with Danny a few times, winking each time. Danny kept rolling his eyes, even though Jason didn’t miss the blush that would creep into his cheeks. Smiling himself, he went on with his poses, feeling his daily stress slipping away like always. After class, he approached Danny, eyes taking in the bracelets he always sported. They were so cute~. “Enjoy class, Jason?” “I always do!” “Yeah…only three days, and you’re really a quick learner!” “Well…I used to do it a lot when I was younger. Helps a ton.” Danny nodded, hair falling into his eyes slightly. “I can imagine! Glad you got back into it.” Jason smiled, watching Danny pull his hair out of his eyes. God, he was really cute. “Glad I joined! Can’t wait for tomorrow.” Danny smirked, a slight glint coming into his eyes. “Fun day Friday! You’ll love it~” Jason smiled, curious and interested. “Here’s hoping! See ya tomorrow then?” Danny smiled, turning and giving Jason a good view of his bulging butt. “You got it!” Jason left, feeling bubbly, giddy, and very excited for whatever was going to happen tomorrow! - - - - - - - - - - Jason hopped out of bed, grunting happily as he stretched his arms. Daintily moseying into the bathroom, he carefully brushed his shoulder-length, platinum blond hair out of his sparklingly green eyes before heading into the shower. Under the hot water, he didn’t even try to stop himself fondling his own body, hands rubbing the enormous muscles all over his body or his monstrous derriere. He jerked off, he fingered himself deep, he even chanced pushing his shampoo bottle up his fat cheeks a few inches. It felt amazing. Pausing to examine himself in the mirror, he grinned. Put Ruby Rue’s ass on Dan Peyer’s body and have that stud breed James Charles, and you’d have Jason. He smiled dazzlingly as he ran over that scenario…yeah, seemed legit. Back in his room, it took Jason his usual twenty-five minutes to apply his makeup. Foundation to make his beautiful freckles stand out, mascara to highlight his eyes, some nice dark red lipstick to make his colossal dick-sucking lips pop, and just a slight blush. Smiling naughtily to himself, he slipped on his earrings and nose ring before he began his half-hour routine of picking clothes. He finally settled on his tight, neon crop top and matching short skirt. Nothing else would fit around his preposterous ass, anyway. Smirking to rub his firm abs, he slipped on his short heels and headed out. He knew his long, painted fingernails and deliciously high voice got stares. That, coupled with his perfect makeup, either got some very admiring or some very dirty looks. Jason didn’t give a shit. He was glamorous and fabulous and gorgeous, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought! Well, except Danny. God, he wanted that boy. So charming and gorgeous and sexy. Jason couldn’t get him out of his mind. And he figured today would be a good day to flirt it up a little. Let him know how he really felt about the stunning boy. So happily sauntering into the yoga class, Jason smiled ear to ear and waved, limp wrist flopping his hand everywhere. “Hey, girls~” Everyone just about screamed, waving and blowing kisses. Danny smiled happily, coming up to Jason. Lightly pecking him on the lips, Jason grinned. “Hey, stud. I’m ready for my deep, intense stretching~” Danny blushed, not unhappily, and looked down slightly. “Ahah, excellent! All right, guys, today is fun day Friday! You know what to do~” Jason looked around as the other boys began to move around. “Um…what’s…?” Danny smiled, looping his arm through Jason’s. Jason smiled, running his finger over Danny’s hoop bracelets. “I keep telling myself to buy some of these. I love jingling.” Danny smiled, lightly tickling Jason’s nose ring. “I can tell. Anyway, fun day Friday! Partner day!” Jason tilted his head, pushing his lips out poutily. “Hm?” Then he noticed the other boys slowly getting into more…erotic positions. Downward dog, but done so that one boy’s crotch was in the other’s face. Cobra, but one on top of the other. Jason slowly smiled as he took it in. He turned to gaze into Danny’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Care to be my partner?” Jason grinned happily and Danny led him to the mat, putting the music on. Jason hummed eagerly, letting Danny guide him onto the mat. “Any pose?” Jason motioned to the others. “Cobra looks good.” Danny smiled and motioned. “New guy gets the bottom.” Jason smirked, popping his cheeks. “You sure you don’t just want some of this?” Danny smirked. “Try me.” ‘You know it’s the biggest in the room.” “Jason, darling, it’s the biggest in the state. Now down.” Jason chuckled and lay down, grinding his already-hardening cock into the mat. He bit his bloated lower lip as he felt Danny’s crotch push into his bulbous rear. The tight yoga pants did nothing to hide the growing erection Jason felt pushing against his watermelon-sized butt, and he began to slowly hump the mat. Danny took no time at all to slowly lower himself until he too was humping the gigantic bubble that was Jason’s butt, arms slowly going around the boy’s chest to fondle his meaty pecs. Jason turned briefly, noticing all the boys were engaging in similar activities. Danny huffed hotly into Jason’s ear. “We’re gems and lambs all week. But this is when we have our fun. No way twenty stunning gay boys meet without some action~” Jason moaned happily, enjoying the hot humping. “Every guy I’ve brought in here has been turned from a twig to a total stud. But no one’s changed so perfectly as you, Jason.” Jason bit his lip. “What do you mean? I’ve always been like this.” Danny grinned, nibbling on Jason’s ear. “I know, I know. You have. But you’re perfect for me.” “Mmmph…and you’re so hot. I want you.” Danny flipped Jason over and promptly smothered his lips in a kiss. Jason returned the kiss with gusto, his enormous lips dwarfing Danny’s. Danny humped into Jason harder and harder, Jason’s rear providing a lovely cushion. Lipstick got everywhere, but Jason hardly cared. This was heaven. All at once, the music ended, and Danny got up. “W-wait…no way that was thirty minutes.” Danny glanced at the clock. “Hey. Time flies, I’m afraid. All right, guys, see you all Monday for another great week!” Jason felt his heart sink at the sudden aloofness, looking down as he went for his bag. A hand on his arm turned him as Danny kissed his firmly. “I want you, Jason. Would love to catch you around some other times.” Jason’s grinned hugely, kissing back. “I’d love that~!” Danny smiled happily, patting Jason’s enormous rear. “Stay pretty, darling, and I’ll see you around!” Jason smiled and looked back, blushing slightly. “You know it, Danny~!” He shouldered his mat, wondering just what the next day would bring!
  2. Hello, everyone. This story is inspired by "A Bet" by @pasidious, to whom I offer my thanks. It is meant to be a continuation/expansion of sorts. I hope you will find it enjoyable! The sun had been bearing down on the college quad all Sunday, but now it was hanging low enough in the sky that being out and about was tolerable, even enjoyable, so that's what we were doing. My best friend was relaxing on the bench, arms draped on the backrest and legs spread apart. I arguably had an even better sitting arrangement: lying on the seat with my head resting on his left thigh. He'd flex it occasionally, just to mess with me. I couldn't care less, of course. For one, I was busy enjoying the June sky, magnificently blue and clear but for a few wispy clouds that were just starting to turn golden. For another, the tiny bounces of my head against my friend's restless quad kept reminding me of how well his new leg day regimen was coming along. I tried to come up with a good pun about college quads and quad muscles, but either I couldn't think of any or none existed to begin with. "Quad-terback", maybe? Ugh, pass. Neither of us even played football, anyway. Giving up, I refocused on how good my head felt against his leg, and thought about how lucky I was. I've always considered myself rather lucky. Come to think of it, fortunate might be a better choice of word. Luck is mere random chance, while fortune is something you can have a hand in. For example, I had been lucky to be in the same class as my future best friend, but fortunate to get to sit next to him. I owed it to luck that his genetics gave him a cute face, a warm smile and a great body, but I had fortune to thank that fitness was among out shared interests. Falling for him, though, that had nothing to do with luck or fortune. On the contrary, it felt inevitable. From the very beginning, whenever I was with him, the world seemed to lose its rough edges and make more sense. Obstacles turned into exciting challenges. Embarassments became funny stories to retell over months to come. Fears and worries melted away before his casual yet near unshakeable confidence. At the same time, he threw himself into pursuits with an infectious passion. A walk outdoors turned into an adventurous expedition. A snowball fight became a day-long epic stuggle. Every moment of leisure spent with him was an experience. And then, of course, there were his looks to consider. Simply put, my friend started out handsome and graduated to HOT. A piercing pair of eyes framed by thick, expressive eyebrows, an easy, inviting smile, and a rockin' body that never lost its tone, even as it slowly gained mass over the years. Yeah, my friend was sexy and he knew it. He moved with the self-assuredness of a cat, completely comfortable with himself, turning heads left and right. One might think my infatuation is causing me to exaggerate, but the scores of girls flirting with him on a weekly basis would beg to differ. I'm sure there were many closeted dudes desperately pining after him, too. After all, I was one of them. And even though I alone had the privilege of being so close to the guy of so many people's dreams on a daily basis, this tantalizing closeness, bereft of the escalation I so deeply desired, gradually tightened itself into a shackle that eventually threatened to choke the life out of me. My heart had room only for him, but that space remained achingly vacant. In retrospect, I should have been more open with him. He was, after all, my best friend; we shared practically everything else between us. But by the time I acknowledged my feelings, our relationship had been pretty set in its ways. While I was certain he wouldn't mind me being gay, I was terrified that he would be weirded out by me being into him. I dreaded that things would never be the same between us again, and that we'd end up drifting apart or, even worse, breaking things off. This unthinkable possibility was one of the two things that kept me going. The other was that my friend, despite the aforementioned constant attention from the fair sex, never seemed to occupy himself with girls all that much. Sure, he'd have a number of one night stands and even a fling every now and then, and he seemed to enjoy it all, but he never pursued anything stable. It could have just been him sowing his oats, but I kept secretly hoping his true interests lied elsewhere. Not that I did anything to ascertain this, though. While we discussed his many conquests and prospective hookups, I never dared to steer the conversation to guys, and he in turn was very discreet when it came to my own sex life, which was restricted to cyberspace. Graduation came and went, and we both applied for the same out of state college. Naturally, we roomed together. In this exciting new phase of our lives, we wanted to try all sorts of new experiences, and my friend came up with an odd way to encourage that: bets and dares. "Betcha you can't do a kegstand for half a minute." "Betcha you can't smoke this without coughing." "Betcha you can't pull an all-nighter." Coming from anyone else, these could be recipes for disaster, prime plots for PSAs on the perils of peer pressure. My friend knew me and what I was capable of well, however, and never dared me to attempt anything I couldn't handle. What's more, he knew that I'd never take a bet unless I stood to gain something, win or lose. Fortune, not luck, remember. Freshman year wore on pleasantly enough. My friend, naturally, thrived, quickly establishing himself as the big man on campus, a charming and affable figure. Even this newfound fame failed to affect our bond - we still spent as much time as possible together. As for me, the change of scenery did me a world of good. I began to feel more at ease with myself and stepped up my workouts as a result, starting to catch up with my friend's progress. I'd always been more or less in shape, but it felt really good to dodge the Freshman's Fifteen and instead see my body slowly transform under the daily struggle. Plus, I got to spend even more time admiring my bro sweating and grunting his way into a buffer, bigger bod. Seeing every one of his muscle groups flex and bulge over and over again was almost too much to take, though. By Spring Break, I had started to entertain the idea of coming clean. A previously unspeakable prospect, but if I didn't go for it now, I was certain I never would. But then came the dare that would change everything: "Betcha mine's bigger." I'd stolen many furtive glances at my friend's dick over the years, of course, and had formed an excellent impression. In fact, his cock looked as if it might be nearly as big as mine, which at 8 inches was no mean feat. I'd spent countless nights abusing my tool, fantasizing that I was holding his instead. To finally see it in full display would be a dream come true. So, after offering some token "no homo" caveats, as had become second nature, I agreed. I figured that, win or lose, I only stood to gain. The only thing was, I couldn't have imagined just how much I'd gain that day...Ever since then, my BF had become my BF. It's true I had been very lucky that he, too, was gay and into me. But I was fortunate that he had finally decided to bite the bullet and suggested that bet to set things in motion. It was a bit of a shame that it had taken both of us that long to acknowledge our feelings, but at least we had done our very best to make up for lost time over the past year. Such were the thoughts I was entertaining, lying on my love during a warm summer afternoon, when along came about half a dozen senior-looking guys, swaggering their way across the quad lawn. I recognised most of them from the gym, although we had never exchanged a word; they tended to keep their distance from us and even avoided looking us in the eye, except to scowl. I hadn't wanted to apply any labels to their conduct, but now, seeing them surrounding us in the largely deserted and definitely faculty-less quad with stormy expressions, one came readily to mind: "Homophobe". Poorly veiled sarcasm soon gave its way to crude jokes and finally to outright slurs. It was then that I made a serious mistake: I assumed that these bullies must have extremely low intelligence and therefore would not understand a witty barb even if it kissed their ass. In my defense, it probably wouldn't make a difference no matter what I'd said; just daring to open my mouth seemed to be enough. The closest bully lunged at us even before I had finished my quip, eager for any excuse to justify his craving for violence. My bro, having greater presence of mind, had already geared up for a sucker-punch, delivering it to the guy's admittedly bulky midsection with such force and skill that he crumpled mid-swing and doubled over in front of the bench. His cohorts gathered round to check on him, shocked. That was all the diversion we needed. My friend leaped off the bench and started sprinting towards the main building, and I followed close behind. Bellows of rage soon followed us, but for now, at least, we had the advantage; these guys had clearly never paid much attention to cardio. We dashed madly through the double doors and down the hallways, looking for help but unsurprisingly finding none. Most of the students had already left on break, and those that hadn't were probably tripping in their rooms or hitting the town. As for the professors, any self-respecting member of faculty wouldn't be caught dead working on a summer Sunday's afternoon. The time we lost in out fruitless search was gained by our pursuers. The echo of their yells reminded me of the hunting calls of wolves as it reverberated in the empty corridors. It sounded as if they were approaching us from everywhere. Sure enough, three silhouettes appeared at the end of the corridor we were currently in, and triumphant cries from behind let us know we were trapped. My friend grabbed me roughly with one hand and opened the nearest door with the other, flinging me inside. As I scrambled to keep my balance, I saw him scrambling with the doorknob. "Yes!" he exclaimed breathlessly, and then I heard a sharp click. Trying to catch my breath, I took in some of my surroundings: a dusty glass cabinet showcasing an ancient sound console; a worn bookcase housing a portable radio/casette player, a small collection of CDs and a handful of instruction manuals; a cork board drowning in pinned pieces of paper and post-its, a couple of them on the floor; tarps covering a family of boxy shapes, with a mess of cables protruding underneath; a desk with a computer and a rather modern microphone on a stand; black foamy material covering all the walls except the large, thick window facing the hallway. This was the PA Room. The Public Announcement Room, or PA Room for short, was a place of many uses, the official one being, of course, the broadcasting of campus-wide announcements. Otherwise, it served as our college's radio station whenever anyone from the A/V club could be bothered to wander in, as a recording studio any time students needed one for a project or a promo, and in one memorable occasion when the Music Room had flooded, as a very cramped substitute practice space for the college band. There was, however, another use for it. Its soundproofing, combined with the fact that the key was kept on the inside to avoid any recording-ruining intrusions, made it a great spot for a quick fuck. No-one could hear you, but anyone might see you if you didn't keep low to the floor. It was especially favoured by couples who wanted to feel the thrill of getting it on in a public place without risking too much exposure. If the staff knew about it, they certainly hadn't made any indication of it. Who knows? Maybe they took advantage of it themselves from time to time. I certainly had a few likely candidates in mind. I turned to my friend, about to congratulate him for thinking of this shelter, when a cascade of loud bangs came from the door. The shapes of our hunters filled the window frame, glowering down on us. They took turns trying to break the door or window open, fortunately to no avail. Those resting between attempts would scream and gesticulate at us. I couldn't hear them clearly, but the context was easy enough to grasp. I took my phone out of my pocket, my fingers numb. As I did, I remembered that the room was also equipped to block cell signal; wouldn't want a careless student's errant ringtone to ruin a recording, after all. Just as I feared, the screen showed no bars, and from the look of consternation on my friend's face, neither did his. I turned to the computer next, haphazardly tapping at the keys and moving the mouse. The screen came to life, and I groaned in frustration as I saw a log-in screen, requesting a user name and password combination I couldn't begin to guess. I clicked on the textbox, hoping a dropdown of memorized credentials would appear. No such luck. This ruled out both the PA System and internet access. Great. I looked to my friend again. Contrary to my frantic movements, he seemed to stand rather still, looking intently at his toes. "What are we gonna do?" I asked, realizing to my embarassment that my voice was shaking. "Are we trapped?" My friend swallowed with some difficulty before answering, "Seems like we can't easily call for help. The door and window are durable...but not indestructible. They prolly know that, seeing as they haven't fucked off yet. If this keeps up..." he paused, not wanting to give shape to the future that awaited us with words. He turned to me, and I was shocked to see his eyes shine with tears. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "No, don't, please," I said, holding him by the shoulders gently. I tried to say something more, something reassuring and encouraging, but instead my voice caught in my throat. I felt tears prick my eyes in turn. No matter whether they were 21 years old or lived in the 21st century, it seemed some people were still far from mature when it came to accepting love. To want to hurt something harmless and beautiful...I couldn't wrap my head around it. If not for the firm shoulder under my palm, I'd be feeling very alone at that moment. "I can't think of anything...all we can do is hope we'll get lucky somehow," said my friend, muttering now more to himself than me. But just then, his expression shifted. He repeated, softly, "Get lucky..." and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's it!" he exclaimed, startling me off him. "Huh?", I asked, totally lost. "D' you know what we should do?" "No, what?" "We should jack off." It took me a moment to process what he had just said, as well as its implications. "What, here? Now? Right NOW?!" "Yah," he said as matter-of-factly as possible, though I could tell that even he was unsure of what he was proposing. Still, it seemed that my incredulity only served to strengthen his resolve. "Yah," he said again, his voice louder. "We should take a stand. Show 'em what we're really made of." "Are you out of your mind? Do you seriously think we can get a hard-on while we're about to get our ass kicked?! And even if we can, you want them to see...y' know! Everyone'll freak -" "I know we can do it, man," he cut me off, his voice low and urgent. "You know how I know? Because when I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything. I bet it's the same for you. I can feel that, too. I've been waiting so long for us to be together, and I'm not about to let anyone ruin it for us." "But..." He leaned in and placed his hand behind my head, our foreheads resting against each other. His gaze was so intense the words died in my throat. "C'mon, dude. Let's grow hard. Let's grow huge. Let's grow...together." His warm breath washed over me as he whispered these last words, and something inside me snapped. Was my friend's sex appeal so irresistible as to override my very instinct of survival? Or had he, perhaps, convinced me that this was indeed the best course of action? Then again, maybe I just wanted to spend my final moments of safety in defiant provocation of those who were threatening it. Regardless of reason, the result was the same: I leaned forward and kissed him. He responded immediately, his lips pressing down on mine, our tongues soon wrestling for control. His hand remained on my head for a bit, tousling my hair, before moving to my back and pulling me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around him as well, pressing myself against him, feeling as much of his body with my own as possible. A couple more fruitless bangs echoed around the room. My eyes opened, darting to the window. Two of our besiegers had unhooked the nearest fire extinguishers and were trying to batter the door down. A couple were yelling at us, angry veins showing on their throats and foreheads. Next to them, one guy was staring at us with such hate, you'd think his eyes would shoot flames at any moment. The last one had turned away from the window and was apparently fighting the urge to vomit, his large body trembling in disgust. Paying them no more heed, I closed my eyes and continued grinding against my friend, losing myself in the moment as my hands roamed all over his hot body. Unbidden, his words from that fateful day flowed into my mind. "Let's see 'em hard. Hard. Get hard. Let's see them at full size. You're already starting to bone up..." I felt my dick respond to the call, steadily plumping up and rising, twitching in pleasure as it grazed my man's thigh under my shorts. At the same time, his hardening cock rubbed against my own leg, tracing an upward path. As our erections reached their full, glorious size and height, we broke our embrace and grinned at each other, he cockily and I sheepishly, a bit embarassed at how unfounded my earlier objection had turned out to be. "See? This wasn't so hard after all. A sentence which otherwise has no place in this room!", he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. He turned towards the window, facing the gang for the first time since we entered the room, and I followed suit. "Ok, count of three, whip 'em out." He always liked to kick things off with these words, a callback to that first time. Bit of a goofy catchphrase by this point, but still, it was helpful. "Even professional bands have the drummer count off the beat, so we might as well beat off on a count, right?" he had later commented, earning a hearty groan and eyeroll from me. "One...two...THREE." I dropped my shorts, the elastic band snagging only for a moment on my swollen cockhead, and my dick bounced back sharply, standing proudly at attention. The bullies grimaced and winced, as if someone had kicked them in the balls all at once. I glanced to the right and was greeted with the more welcoming sight of my bro's balls and cock, exactly as long and hard as my own. Any last reservations I may have had for what was about to happen evaporated. I looked down at my tool as my fingers curled around it, appreciating its girth and heft. I tightened my grip momentarily, giving it a squeeze, and it pulsed in response. Then, I started stroking. I immediately felt the telltale difference. I had experimented a couple of times, jerking myself off when my bro wasn't around, hoping to surprise him with the results when he came back. It had felt exactly the same as a normal wank and resulted in nothing out of the ordinary, no matter how vividly I pictured him being there with me. It seemed like my dick would accept no substitutes. But this time, we were both here, stroking together, just like on the day of that bet, just like we'd done on many occasions since. And as I stroked myself, it felt as if my whole body was being stroked too, getting teased and played with by a giant, invisible hand. Although by this point I had experienced it a fair number of times, it still felt as unbelievably amazing as it did on the day of that fateful bet. I honestly don't think I will ever get tired of it - and who could blame me? It began, as it always did, slowly. Today time was of the essence, of course, but some things simply can't be rushed. Besides, we both knew the pace would pick up soon enough, in all manner of ways. A trickle of warmth started radiating from my burning cock. It spread lazily, like a sunrise, across my torso, caressing my stomach, then splitting into two waves that crossed my chest, gathering steam within my shoulders, before finally shooting along my arms and from there back into my dick. It then travelled the other way, through my swelling balls across my taint, wrapping itself tighly against my ass cheeks, then snaking around my slightly trembling thighs, and down to my calves, seemingly vanishing into the earth. But then, this warmth spread all over my body again, only quicker and stronger. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Faster and faster it pulsed, even as my stroking stayed slow and deliberate. It wasn't long before it became impossible to follow. Instead, it was as if an electric current was coursing through my entire form, making it stand as rigid as my rod. What had started as a welcoming hearth was now a roaring furnace centered within my junk, giving off unrelenting heat which suffused every inch of my body and grew still more intense by the second. Beads of sweat formed on my creased forehead and rested for a moment on my furrowed brows before falling on my veiny shaft, lubricating it for the benefit of my ever-pumping fist. My breath grew more shallow. I raised my head and turned it sharply to the right. Despite the intensity of the moment, I could take in every detail with perfect clarity, as if time itself had slowed down. My peripheral vision told me, therefore, that he had made a simultaneous mirror movement, jerking his head upright and turning to the left. Our eyes met as we both stood up straight, facing each other. His dark brown eyes were mesmerizing. Rivulets of sweat were running down his toned body, and I could pick up his scent: powerful, yet not unpleasant. He smelled like home to me. His muscles looked like they had just had a great pump at the gym; his skin appeared stretched over them, as if barely able to contain the growing power within. His mouth split into a wicked, cocky grin, and I felt my smile widen to match it. Then, finally, my gaze came to rest on his throbbing dick, standing tall and proud, and, of course, exactly as big as mine. As expected, he was stroking it at the same speed as me. Oddly enough, we hadn't given much thought on why this happened to us or, at least, we hadn't had the opportunity to really talk about it. It seemed like every time we mentioned it to one another, it was swiftly followed by a fierce joint desire for a practical demonstration, which precluded any intruding thoughts. Still, there were a few nights where I had idly mulled it over in my head, lying with his arms wrapped around me as sleep drew near. It seemed to me that it all came down to our cocks. Something about the realization that they were exactly the same size, both soft and hard. It must have unlocked some kind of deeper connection between us, an unspoken yet shared conviction that, thus united, we could both be so much more than either of us could ever be individually. That was the way I felt at this moment too, as I admired our twin dicks being pumped at the same steady, hypnotic rhythm. ("Me and him...we're two dudes in one".) I thought, proudly. ("We are...") ("...together...") Was that...? ("...we will...") His voice, too? ("...ΒΕCOME...") A deluge of power engulfed my entire body. A bolt of lightning might as well have struck me where I stood. I gasped and doubled over slightly as I got the wind knocked out of me. My chest, however, seemed to move less compared to the rest of my body. That was because it had just swelled outward, almost doubling in size in an instant. As I watched it filled out even more, pumping up faster and faster to the rhythm of my accelerating heartbeat, forming a nice pec shelf. The sweat on my newly grown muscles darkened the fabric of my light grey shirt, outlining them against it. My dick gave a powerful twitch at the sight, but I kept it under control. After all, the fun was just getting started. I wouldn't keep looking at myself for long, though. The best part about this thing, see, is that it's happening to another dude at the same time. I can feel the change within me while watching HIM transform as well and react to it. It's unspeakably hot. No two men on earth have ever experienced what we do in these moments. The outline of my friend's ballooning chest was clearly visible under his black tank top, the pecs growing thick and hard against the already taut fabric. The outline of his nipples appeared, pushing at first outward, then downward, as the slabs of muscle became too heavy for them. The tank top dipped under the weight, further exposing the developing crevice between the pecs. His dogtag accessory, which had been previously resting at an angle against his chest, jerked this way and that as he excitedly bounced his massive mounds of muscle, grunting softly with every step of that uniquely masculine dance. I decided to play a little as well, but instead of bouncing my pecs, I rolled them slowly over and over. I could practically feel the striations appear and disappear as my muscles undulated in an unparallelled display of control. "Awww yeaaahngh" I heard, and for the life of me I still can't tell which of us uttered it. Perhaps it was the sum of our combined ecstatic moans, celebrating the return of our shared muscle. For a moment, my eyes caught sight of the guy who had tried to grab at me. Although I couldn't hear him, his lips moved slowly and were easy enough to read: "Holy shit!" I looked back to my friend. His free hand eagerly lifted his top, exposing his flat belly. Just in time, too; the slight but distinct grooves, a product of years of dedicated hard work, were already deepening, filling with shadow as a pack of solid muscle bricks rose into prominence. As if the sweat dripping off them wasn't enough, my friend, now keeping his tank top raised with his teeth, rapidly swapped hands and proceeded to feel his abs with his formerly occupied palm, slathering them with precum. "Ohhh, fuck yeah..." he whispered, and a chuckle of pure delight escaped his lips as he caressed, poked and prodded to his heart's content; I knew that out of all his muscles, he was proud of his abs the most. As for me, the sight of the glistening beef was maddeningly inviting. It all but begged for my attention; I longed to wipe the precum off with my tongue, or perhaps to add to it. I was sure that, no matter how cut my friend became, I'd still be able to fill all available space between his abs with my cum. The thought nearly drove me wild and my dick throbbed alarmingly. I decided to turn my attention back to myself for the moment, and check out if my own six-pack had emerged yet. However, by this point my pecs had become rather too big, or perhaps my stomach too sucked in, or maybe even both. At any rate, I found it hard to see my abs properly just by looking straight down. I slowly rotated my torso this way and that, getting a better view of my shredded obliques. I ran each hand over my stomach, switching them between my cock and my body without ever breaking the rhythm. Sure enough, my palm rose and fell gently as it roamed over the cobblestone surface of my packed muscle. "Oh man, oh FUCK, this feels sooo GOODGHHH!" moaned my friend, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes tight, his teeth gritted in a savage grin. A moment later I realized why. The tank top's straps were sliding down the slopes of his rising traps, no longer dividing his shoulders into equal thirds. His frame was widening so quickly I almost expected to hear him creaking. Groaning, he rolled his shoulders forward, once, twice, three times, bucking his hips as he went. His delts rippled and bulged with every thrust, moulding themselves into veritable boulders of corded muscle fiber. I braced myself for the same sensation, but instead I felt my arms being inexorably pushed away as my lats started flaring up. Out and out they grew, as slow and unstoppable as a glacier. For a few moments, it seemed like they'd keep growing forever. Then, suddenly, it was as if a jet of flame shot up from each, rocketing up and out in a V-shape which blazed all over my back and shoulders. Then I, too, started to grow wider and thicker. Truthfully, it wasn't as bad as it looked from the outside. There was some pain, yes, but it only served to amplify the overwhelming waves of pleasure that accompanied it. Rather than the sensation of getting deformed or stretched, it felt more like I was being fitted into a mold, one that had been meant for me all along. I let out a long moan as my once loose sleeveless t-shirt rode up my rows of abs, hugging my sweat soaked body tighter and tighter. A feeling of belonging and contentment washed over me, and I briefly wondered if that was how bodybuilders felt when they had finally reached their dream stats. "Unngggnngghh!!" My friend's guttural grunt snapped me out of my brief reverie. Had it been my imagination, or was his voice just then deeper than he could have possibly made it himself? He gasped and swung his head forward, causing droplets of sweat to fly off his hair. His eyes were wild and unfocused. I could now see clearly his bulging traps, rising and falling with every breath...but mostly still rising. I have a soft spot for traps; since they're rather difficult to build compared to other muscles, I've always thought that a dude with nice developed traps is buff on a whole 'nother level. And now, I could feel my own traps emerging as well, my neck thickening between them. I cracked my neck to either side, feeling the satisfying snap and taking a good look at my own shoulders. FUCK they looked huge up close. I was sure that I could charge the door at that moment and take it off its hinges as if it were made of wet tissue paper. As if wanting to draw my admiring gaze back to him, my friend hunched over, letting loose another bestial growl and giving me a good view of his tapered back. He flexed it, hard, and waves of muscle undulated across it, making his skintight tanktop look like a dark sea ravaged by a storm. A short, sharp ripping sound, and then an island, a mountain, a volcano of muscular flesh erupted from the rift, rippling and then hardening like lava. I felt the incredible power he displayed welling up in the centre of my being, as well, building and building until its demand for expression became irresistible. I pulled my shoulders back and out, bringing my shoulderblades close, and for a moment my pecs stretched super tight against my shirt, scarring it with stress lines. "AH..." I moaned loudly, then: "UNGH!!!" as I reversed the movement, flaring out my back as much as possible. As I did, I could feel it wildly grow wider, straining but for a moment against my shirt before that, too, was anticlimactically ripped in two by my sheer size and mass and strength. The grey rag fluttered to the floor, leaving now both of our heaving torsos in full, glorious display. Incredibly, our legs had been able to support our top-heavy bodies all this time. Maybe it was the adrenaline we were no doubt soaking in at the moment? It seemed that even supernatural muscle growth had a tendency to overlook leg day. But now, they, too, were awakening. My legs started to inflate and bulge. Each individual muscle came to the fore, fighting with its brethren for space. I could feel the inside of my thighs starting to press against each other and I adjusted my stance. I shook my left leg, looking at the newly formed muscles from multiple angles. The ample mass of my quads jiggled and swayed. Then I abruptly stopped and flexed them, and they instantly popped, hard as diamonds. It's a good thing I had lowered my shorts to my ankles, or that would have been their end right there. Looking back at my bro, I saw that the gently rolling hills of his thighs had given way to granite mountain ranges, rivers of sweat running down them. Defying that well-known stereotype, my arms, despite the workout I had been giving them, largely felt and looked the same size as ever, now standing comically small next to my jacked upper body. That was just fine, though. The comparison emphasized even better just how big I'd gotten over the last few minutes and besides, they wouldn't be staying like that for much longer. Already I could see a vein protruding in each one, steadily pumping my heart's blood through them, just like I steadily kept pumping my fist over my steel rod of a dick. My thoughts strayed to the countless hours we had spent at the gym, and the natural, honest gains we'd earned as a result. That was all well and good, of course, but there was a lot to be said for growing so much, so quickly, as well. I mean, having an erection is awesome, but imagine always having just the one ever since adolescence, never experiencing the feeling of getting hard again. Knowing that I could feel myself transforming this way over and over, and that our real, hard-gained muscle would result in ever larger and more ripped bods whenever we felt like changing - well, that almost sent me over the edge. I summoned all my willpower, and with a muffled "Ngh!" I went back to edging with some difficulty. "How you doin', bro? Hangin' in there?" My friend's voice, strained and broken up by his panting as it may have been, was unmistakably deeper than before. Its sexy timbre and casual tone were making an admirable job of playing it cool, but one look at his eyes betrayed his concern for me. "Yeah", I shot back, amazed at my own husky voice. Had our voices changed in the past? At that point I was too horny to remember. "Fuckin' A..." he trailed off, the last syllable almost turning into a moan. "Ughhh...I love this!" he yelled. "Yeah!" I chimed in, emboldened by his sudden outburst. "I love this SO MUCH!" "I love it almost as much as I love you, dude!" he practically screamed. "Ι love you too, man!" I shouted back. We both knew that getting verbal was a sign that we were close to cumming, so we needed all the support we could get from one another to keep going, and finally grow each other's arms. While my bro favoured abs and I traps, arms was our common ground. As if they somehow knew this, our arms had started resisting growing too early during our sessions, leaving us with the best for last. They'd never held out this long before, though. We came closer slowly, eating up every inch of each other with our eyes. When we were next to each other, we stopped for a moment. Then, in one smooth motion, we both grasped each other's cock with our right hands. Our left hands grabbed each other's dick-stroking arms, and started feeling the muscles that had already started exploding all over them. Indeed, "explosion" is the only word that comes close to describing it. Waves of muscle erupted furiously, piling on top of one another, hardening into eye-watering definition, only for still more muscle to emerge, packing itself tighter and tighter, denser and denser, bigger and bigger. Our biceps doubled in size, then tripled, then grew beyond what I could be bothered to estimate. Our forearms flexed and twitched as we stroked and squeezed, fully expressing the awesome strength they now possessed. It was becoming too much to take it all in. Our bodies were starting to run out of growth space, but the growth itself still flowed forth from our cocks. With no place left to go, it started to work its magic there. My grip suddenly felt unfamiliar. My bro's junk shifted within my palm as it thickened and gained an inch, then another. I could feel my cock spasming with overwhelming power. Then, as I knew he would, I heard him voicing my thoughts: "Aw shit, dude. This - ahh, g-goddd! - this's it. I'm gonna - ohh fffuck - 'm gon' cum!" I threw my head back and my arms flew up into a double biceps. I could feel my peaks rising up, and up, and further up still. I tensed, flexing myself as hard as I could. A deep, primal roar sprang from within my chest, rising in volume and tone as it went. It was met by another roar, different but harmonious to my own. The two voices resonated, their vibrations almost visible in the air. It seemed to me that the very room started to tremble and shake. My eyelids fluttered open and I saw him there in front of me, flexing into a most muscular, every part of him huge, hard and cut. Our eyes met. Reflected within his I saw me. I saw both of us at the same time, each contained within the other, inseperable, two equal and complementary halves of perfection. And that's then we came. ... When we finally came to our senses, you won't be surprised to know that the room was a mess. About half the black foam had been soaked white, making it look a little like a cow had exploded all over the bare walls. The tarps had proven woefully inadequate in protecting the sound equipment, and no-one was going to leaf through any of the instruction manuals ever again. The hallway outside the PA Room was empty, our would-be assailants presumably having fled in terror quite a while ago. Although I didn't think they would share their story with anyone, much less that it would be believed, I still felt confident word would get around that we were not to be fucked with. I was still taking in the scene of devastation when my friend pointed at me, exclaiming, "Bro, what the fuck?!" With a pang of panic, I checked myself all over, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Ok, fine, nothing unexpected. As I straightened my head, though, it hit me. My eyes were level with the top of the bookcase. Up until a few minutes ago, they had been level with the top shelf. I hadn't noticed it because my friend had grown taller by the same amount. And the fact that our muscles still looked the same meant that they must have all grown proportionally at the same time. They'd never done that before. We looked at each other excitedly, fascinated by what this implied. After all, regular exercises made your muscles bigger and stronger as you kept at them. Why wouldn't this function in a similar way? Could it be that our ability to grow was...growing itself? My train of thought was interrupted by a jolt from my cock. I had to remind myself it had grown, too, since it looked proportionate to my now taller and larger body. It seemed as hard as ever. Of course, even in the past it could stay hard for quite a while after the fact, giving us ample time to enjoy our muscles in peace. But this time...it felt as if my boner would last quite a bit longer, if I was so inclined. In fact, it kinda felt even harder now. This realization was swiftly followed by one that had been screaming for my attention for a while. "Fuck, I'm...still horny." "Me too." "...Come on, let's really take care of these." "Thought you'd never say so."
  3. Sometimes, it pays to be an only child. It was Christmas morning and I was twelve years old. I crept down to the living room before my parents were even remotely ready to wake up. I knew the deal about Santa and my parents knew I was fully informed, but we all were hanging onto the image of a jolly old St. Nick bringing me presents. None of us wanted my childhood to end. There, spread out on the carpet in the living room, were all my gifts from the man in the red suit. Right away, I could see that I had gotten everything I asked for. I saw the electric keyboard, the set of weights, and the stethoscope next to a few books on medicine and the body. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my next action could lay the foundation for what was to come for the rest of my life – but we seldom know that, do we? ******* Les Les dropped the dumbbell on the padded flooring with a light thud. He then looked in the mirror in front of him Damn, he looked huge, today. Les glanced around the gym – to make sure he was the biggest guy around. He smiled at his own reflected face when he confirmed that he was. He remembered some words uttered in total amazement by his trick from last night. The guy’s mouth had dropped open as Les flexed and all the dude could say was ‘watermelon biceps.’ Les had liked that description. For the life of him, Les couldn’t remember the guy’s name . . . and he had only left his hotel room less than two hours ago. Mark? Marcus? Aurelius? It could have even been Fred for all Les knew. The guy had merely been a means to an end. A very enjoyable, explosive end, at that. Les had been pleased with the generous pickings at the club, last night. He hadn’t even taken his phone out once to see if Grindr was offering better options. His conquest had been handsome and muscular – not nearly as big as Les – but big enough to make the evening pleasurable. And then to find out the dude had never bottomed, well that was like having a cherry on top . . . pun intended. It was clear Mr. Hot-for-a-Night had intended on being the dominant alpha last night, but that thought had come to a crashing end as soon as Les had removed his sweatshirt . . . which is also when the nickname ‘watermelon biceps’ had been born, as well. Les had loved watching the cockiness seep out of the guy like a helium balloon with a hole in it as he took in the huge hard body that had been somewhat disguised by the sweatshirt. What’s his name definitely knew he had hit the jackpot when Les had chosen him – he just hadn’t realized it was more like winning a nation-wide super lottery. Les could also still feel the incredible pleasure he had received while widening the man’s tight, untapped hole. The dude was going to find sitting to be a little painful, today – that was guaranteed. Damn, now Les was hard-as-hell, again – just from thinking of that virgin ass. This was good, though – since being excited would make him push his workout even harder than usual. As he picked up the dumbbell from the floor, a memory of lifting a much smaller one on Christmas morning at age twelve flashed through his mind. Man, had he grown since then. ********** Lester The fasten seatbelt sign illuminated, but Lester didn’t hear the accompanying announcement because he had on his state-of-the art, noise-cancelling headphones and was listening to the chanting Tibetan monks he had recorded in a cavernous mountain monastery over the last two weeks. The overly attentive flight attendant, with the bubble butt you could have rested a tray on, placed a hand softly on his shoulder and asked if Lester wanted anything else before the plane started to descend. The way the handsome guy emphasized the word ‘anything’ made Lester quite sure he could have easily entered the so called ‘mile high club’ if he had wanted to. Thoughts of Alessandro waiting in their upper east side condo made it quite easy for Lester to ignore the obvious advances from the attendant. Lester briefly wondered if the guy recognized him or if he was one of those guys that found Lester’s bad boy musician looks particularly appealing. Again, the anticipated reunion with Alessandro – his boyfriend of two and a half years – forced all other potential desires out of Lester’s mind. He stored his headphones back in his bag overhead and glanced around, finding most of first-class empty. It had been an easy flight and a successful trip – but he was happy to know he’d be able to sleep in his own bed that night in the arms of his hot, Italian, model boyfriend. Well, his soon to be hot, Italian, model fiancé. Lester instinctively checked his pocket to make sure the slight bulge from the black diamond ring in a velvet covered box was still there. He knew the cost of the ring was outrageous, but he also knew it would make Sandro gasp when he proposed. That would make it worth it. The quick secret trip to Bangkok from Tibet to have it designed and made had also been a little much, but Lester had enjoyed every minute of it because he knew how happy it would make his boyfriend. Thoughts returned to the chanting monks and the fact that Lester was overjoyed by the music he had already made for his latest gig. Scoring the soundtrack to what would surely be a gigantic Steven Spielberg masterpiece was so different from the numerous Disney animations and Marvel superhero movies he’d done over the last ten years. It was all good – especially because all of them paid so well – but doing something that might be seen by someone like . . . let’s say Stephen Fry instead of only children, teens, and Comic Con fans would be a welcome change. It might even lead to the so far elusive Oscar he had never won, even though he had been nominated four times. He still couldn’t believe a slightly tipsy evening of uploading songs he’d written for potential Disney-like films and played on the keyboard he had received for Christmas at twelve years old had gone so unbelievably viral that executives from the actual company had called this twenty-one, freshly graduated composer in for a job. The rest, as they say, was a bliss-filled memory. And that happiness had been capped off when he had met Alessandro at a friend's birthday party in Milan twenty-eight months before. Sudden thoughts of Sandro’s perfectly chiseled abs made Lester’s balls tighten, which brought a smile to his face. All of the work for this new movie had put a little stress on their relationship, but soon that would all be behind them. Lester knew marriage was the answer. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Sandro’s cobblestoned stomach. ********** Tag Lester ‘Tag’ Taggert had been asleep for only three minutes when the door to his office was opened and the light turned on. An apologetic nurse – with huge arms that threatened to tear the seams of his scrubs sleeves – told him the senator’s vitals were not looking good. Dr. Tag, as he was known throughout the hospital and beyond, quickly rose and followed Nurse Broad Shoulders to the extremely private room of one of the nation’s most senior . . . and respected . . . senators. Tag had expected this interruption or, more accurately, he had known it was a possibility. Slowing the drip and increasing oxygen immediately solved the problem. Hunky nurse stood nearby - amazed at how calmly and expertly the problem had been resolved. Dr. Tag thanked him for waking him – something most doctors would never do – and then explained a few things he wanted the nurse to do for the remainder of his shift to make sure all things went well for the senator. Tag was very impressed with the insightful questions asked by the nurse who could probably bench him a hundred times with no problem. Tag knew he was tired – that’s when he allowed his desires to take hold of him. He explained that he wanted to be awakened every two hours so he could check on his important patient. As the nurse replied that he would, Tag wanted to suggest he do it by laying on top of him and kissing his neck, but the required online harassment training that all hospital employees had been asked to take would have viewed that as risky behavior. At least, Tag was pretty sure it would. As he lay back down on the sofa in his office he let his mind wander back to the veiny biceps bursting out of the nurse’s sleeves. He allowed a quick right nipple pinch and then immediately forced his mind to focus on follow-up treatment for the senator tomorrow. The senator’s operation had been a huge secret and only about five employees of the hospital knew he was even there. No one was to ever discuss the operation, but the fact that Tag was one of the best heart specialists in the country left little to the imagination. Thoughts returning to biceps bigger than softballs made it clear that Tag was not going to sleep anytime soon – even though the operation had worn him out. He turned on a nearby lamp and looked over at the bookcase against the opposite wall. His eyes landed on the first anatomy book he ever owned – a gift from Santa when he was twelve – and he smiled. That thing had been like a trusted friend for many years – through college, medical school, all of his years of interning, and so much more. He also knew it had a note written by the love of his life – Ethan – on page forty-seven. That page had been chosen specifically because Ethan had said that by the time both of them turned forty-seven a list of things he wrote down would have come true. The list was written in the open space on the side of the page and at the bottom. It was the day the two interns had found out that they had been born on the same day, the same year, and within forty-five minutes of each other (if you ignored that one had been on the east coast and one had been on the west coast). It had also been the first time they had slept together – two cots pushed together in the closet-like room where interns could rest while on duty for their six-month emergency room rotation. The list included things like the fact that they would be married (not even a possibility at the time), they would have two kids, two dogs, a turtle, and live in a ‘please fix me up’ brownstone in New York. It also said, ‘Ethan will love Tag forever.’ Who knew that a drugged up schizophrenic mugger would randomly make forever suddenly end two years later by taking Ethan’s life in an alley they both took as a shortcut to the hospital? To this day, Tag had never walked down that street, again. Tag mouthed the words ‘Good night, Ethan’ and then closed his eyes – hoping sleep would finally come.
  4. Era de mañana en el diario "El Clarín", en una de sus oficinas se encontraba Peter Parker, un chico castaño de 27 años de edad, medía 1.85 y pesaba 90 kgs. de músculo, estéticamente bien distribuido, traía puesta esa mañana una camisa blanca que se ajustaba bien a su anatomía atlética, pero sin ser demasiado llamativo, la camisa se ajustaba bien en su pecho y bíceps, también llevaba un pantalón negro de vestir y un calzado del mismo color, bien lustrado, el cuello de su camisa desabotonado solo para permitirle respirar bien y no sofocarse, pues el viaje matutino usando sus poderes para llegar al diario había sido bastante veloz, tomó las mangas de la camisa y las arremangó para dejar descubiertos sus antebrazos mientras tomaba un folder con fotos de Spiderman, se sonrió entre sí. Estos meses habían sido importantes para él, encontró un traje alien que lo había mejorado por completo, le dió más velocidad, agilidad, fuerza, músculos, y sobre todo un crecimiento en su virilidad que él en un principio no podía creer, aún recordaba cuando solo medía 1.75 y pesaba solo 70kgs., era sorprendente lo que unos meses con el traje le habían hecho, de tener un pedazo de solo 16 cms. de virilidad en erección pasó a tener un monstruo de 25 cms. No dejaba de ver sus fotos, apaleando maleantes la noche anterior, era magnífico, pensaba en el puesto que estaba compitiendo en ese momento como fotógrafo de planta, el otro hombre definitivamente no tenía oportunidad, dió un sorbo a su café mientras seguía sentado y vió la puerta de entrada de la oficina. Llegó alguien, justamente el hombre que no tenía oportunidades contra Parker, era nada más y nada menos que su compañero de oficina, Eddie Brock. Eddie era ya un hombre de 37 años de edad, a pesar de ser mayor en edad que Peter, se veía más joven, era rubio, de cabello corto, facciones joviales, ojos azules y totalmente lampiño, la vida no le había favorecido, nunca tuvo oportunidad de ejercitarse, ni hacer dietas u otro tipo de cosas debido a su físico, medía tan solo 1,65 cms de alto y pesaba tan solo 60kgs., definitivamente no imponía de ninguna forma, todo mundo le pasaba por encima y últimamente alguien en especial. El pobre Eddie llegó agitado y sudando a la oficina, con su maletín color café a un lado. Eddie estaba vestido con una camisa de color azul cielo que resaltaba aquellos ojos suyos, un pantalón café y calzado del mismo color, todo se hubiera visto bien de no ser por que todo le quedaba grande, a excepción del calzado, la camisa le colgaba de los laterales, y ni que decir de los hombros y las mangas, daba la impresión de que un niño se había vestido con la ropa de su padre, debido a ello nunca tuvo oportunidad de ligar con alguien en su vida. Mientras aún respiraba de manera agitada veía a Parker bastante fresco y seguro de su persona. Eddie se cuestionaba cómo era posible que Parker estaba así si vivía más lejos que él del trabajo, a pesar de tener cierto recelo al castaño, lo saludó ... - Hola, buenos días Parker - Se oyó su voz algo aguda, parecía la voz de un joven de 15 años. - ¿Cómo le haces para llegar antes que yo, si yo vivo más cerca? Peter lo miró de reojo y sonriendo mientras tomaba su café, le dijo: - Por que me levanto más temprano que tú, "amiguito". Eddie miró a Parker, notó que el castaño había mejorado mucho su físico en los últimos meses, sabía que eso no era normal en una persona, además Eddie siempre peleaba por entrar en el bus de la primera hora, mínimo debería que ver a Parker en el transporte o llegar al mismo tiempo si es que Peter tomaba el bus de otra ruta. Eddie terminó por mejor dejar de pensar en ello y se metió al baño para refrescarse un poco, aún así no podía dejar de sentirse frustrado, al salir vio al Sr. Jameson hablando con Peter y solo dijo él: - Hola Sr ... Jameson y Parker vieron al rubio de reojo y siguieron en su plática ... si, literalmente lo habían ignorado. Parker le mostró al jefe sus fotos de Spiderman, Jameson quedó satisfecho como siempre con aquellas fotografías, las tomó y se fue sin decir nada, Peter vio al rubio de nuevo ... -Vaya, de nuevo se te fue el avión del éxito " amiguito ". - El castaño volvió a tomar su café y a darle un sorbo mientras se recargaba en el rubio y lo veía como poca cosa - No te preocupes Eddie, siempre debe haber un segundón para que el primer lugar brille más y descuida, cuando me den el puesto , serás mi "asistonto", te lo aseguro. El rubio apretó su puño y saco su hombro del contacto de Parker para después tomar su maletín y probar suerte en la ciudad por unas fotografías. Peter solo lo vió: -Bye "pequeñín". Oye cuando vuelvas de pasear tráeme un café ... - El castaño sonrió mientras veía salir al rubio -Pobre Eddie, casi me da pena el pobre, pero bueno, no puede competir con un súper hombre como yo ... Parker se quedó de ocioso en la oficina mientras esperaba que fuera más tarde para la hora de la comida, total, al final sabía que en la noche tomaría sus fotos, mientras tanto cuando Eddie salía ... - Maldito parker, su actitud ha cambiado , es un pedante ahora- murmuraba el rubio mientras iba a su lugar secreto dentro del diario, era un cubículo abandonado y muy reducido, solo tenía espacio para una silla y unas cuantas cosas, Eddie entró y activó su radio clandestino de la policía mientras seguía pensando en Parker - solo por que ha cambiado su físico y tiene suerte con las fotos me trata así. Ya se había hecho tarde y Parker tenía hambre ya: - ¡Maldición Brock !, ¡¿Dónde te metiste?!, Sabes que quiero mi comida a cierta hora, maldito enano. - Peter salió de la oficina bastante enojado y se dirigió a la calle para comprar algo y así calmar su apetito, ya pudiendo comprar algo se tranquilizó un poco, pero seguía molesto debido a que aún consumiendo lo que había comprado, su hambre no desaparecía. - Comí demasiado y aún tengo hambre, no lo entiendo, ¡¿Por qué me está pasando esto ?! - El castaño empezaba a enfadarse más, pero en ese momento comenzó a activarse su sentido arácnido. - Sí, lo que me faltaba- se fue a un callejón oscuro y metió su ropa de civil en una bolsa de telaraña -Vamos a perseguir a los chicos malos y a tomar fotos. Mientras tanto Brock salía a toda prisa, escuchó sobre un asalto a un banco cercano y salió disparado del diario, directo a la acción. Al salir vió al mismo tiempo a Spiderman ir hacia la escena del crimen, no era lejos, Brock corrió lo más deprisa que podía, pero llegó demasiado tarde, al estar ya en el lugar solo vio cómo Spiderman salía de escena y varios criminales envueltos en telaraña, pegados a los postes de luz, el rubio se sintió fatal, otra escena de acción se le había escapado. - Maldición, así no lograré nada. Tomó fotos de lo que podía y regresó al diario lo más pronto que pudo, tenía en mente lograr ofrecer sus fotos antes de que Parker apareciera, aunque era muy raro, Peter nunca estaba en la escena y aún así conseguía fotos. Al llegar a la oficina se sorprendió, Parker ya estaba ahí, entregándole varias fotos a Jameson. Brock veía como su oportunidad se desvanecía mientras el jefe entraba a su oficina con Peter detrás de él, el pequeño rubio solo se sentó en su escritorio bastante agitado de tanto correr y entonces ... -¡¡¡Brock !!! Parker gritó como si fuera el jefe al entrar en su oficina compartida, mientras que el rubio solo lo veía con enfado y Parker cerraba de un portazo el lugar y Eddie lo cuestionó. -No sé cómo le haces ... Tú estabas aquí en la oficina y vuelves con fotos y no estás cansado ... - Peter se acercaba poco a poco a Brock que aún seguía agitado, pero confrontándolo, el rubio no sabía si eso era una buena idea o no, pero ya lo estaba haciendo. -¡¿Qué quieres Parker ?! -¡¿Qué quiero?! - Parker sonrió con algo de burla, y así tomó del cuello de la camisa con ambas manos a Brock, levantándolo del suelo, mientras el rubio veía como los pectorales, bíceps y antebrazos del castaño se tensaban en la camisa. - Esas no son maneras de contestarle a tu futuro jefe .- Parker acercó su cara a la del rubio - ¡¿Porqué olvidaste mi comida, maldito enano ?! -¿Cu ... cuál comida ?, No me pe ... pe ... pediste na..nada, solo un café... si regresaba, pero ... - ¡Cállate !, Deja de balbucear como estúpido , sabes que si te pido algo tienes que traer eso y más, en todo caso no me trajiste ¡Nada !, Eso no es de buenos amigos. ¿Oh si? Pequeño charal sudoroso. Las venas del antebrazo de Parker estaban dilatadas debido al tiempo de mantener suspendido al rubio. - Tú ... Tú no eras así .... ¿Que te pasó? - Dijo el rubio algo asustado y triste mientras el semblante de Parker cambiaba de ser agresivo a estar algo fuera de sí, soltando a Brock y dejándolo caer al suelo. - Yo ... Yo ..., Vete por comida y no tardes - El castaño le lanzó billetes en la cara a Brock - Hazlo ya ... Después de eso el rubio se arrastró por el suelo, tomó el dinero y salió disparado de la oficina, pero aún le temblaban algo las piernas. - Maldito Parker. ¿Qué se creé el idiota? No, mejor no lo hago enojar más, no se qué más me podría hacer - El rubio vuelve con una ensalada y pechuga de pollo asada, no había tardado nada en verdad. - Ahí tienes Parker, que te aproveche.- Eddie no pudo evitar decirlo con un tono algo desafiante. - Ya era hora - Mientras tanto Peter no prestó atención al tono de Brock, estaba tan hambriento que solo le importaba la comida, el rubio de lejos veía cómo Peter comía, parecía ansioso y desesperado, como un animal salvaje, incluso soltaba unos cuantos gruñidos , así que prefirió salir e ir al baño, mientras tanto solo pensaba en la conducta de Parker durante los últimos meses, se dirigió al baño del piso, abrió la puerta y se dirigió a uno de los mingitorios. Desenfundó su pedazo de carne, solo medía 8 cms., Y eso si fuera erecto, en reposo solo eran 5 cms, así es, el rubio era pequeño hasta en eso. Mientras orinaba y sentía pena por si mismo oyó abrirse la puerta del baño, para su desgracia era nada más y nada menos que Peter que lo observaba, el castaño comenzó a olfatear, cómo si oliera algo en el ambiente y mientras hacía eso su pantalón de vestir marcaba la gran erección de Parker, el pedazo caliente de 25 cms. de su entrepierna, estaba al máximo. - Aaaaahhhh- el castaño parecía apreciar algún olor. - Aquí huele ... - Dijo el castaño acercándose a Brock. -¿Qué quieres decir con eso? - Eddie guardó su falo y subió la bragueta de su pantalón, tenía un presentimiento y pensaba mejor salir lo antes posible de aquel lugar. - Seguro es el baño, está mal lavado, saldré y le diré al personal del aseo. Parker se acercó al rubio y lo tomó con bastante fuerza. - ¡Eres tú! ... ¡Tú apestas! - Parker volvió a cargar al rubio como lo había hecho ya hace rato y empezó a frotar su gran erección en la entrepierna de Eddie mientras al mismo tiempo le oprimía su pequeña hombría. -Quieres ser preñado.- El rubio estaba acorralado y se sintió indefenso, no podía ocultar su rostro de preocupación. -Parker, si ... si ... huelo así es por qué corrí mu ... mucho hoy ... Me pondré des ... desodorante para no mo ... molestarte ... - Tú quieres ser preñado- Parker parecía un animal salvaje que no razonaba. - ¡¿Preñarme?!, ¡¿A qué te refieres ?! Parker soltó a Brock pero solo para tomarlo fuertemente por la cintura. -Sabes que necesitas un macho, pequeña perra.- El castaño empezaba a merodear con su mano de forma lasciva el cuerpo del rubio aún por encima de la ropa de éste, la mano de Peter empezaba a deslizarse hacia la pelvis de Eddie, casi por tocar su hombría, pero en ese momento Parker se detuvo . - No ... No ... Esto no está bien ... No ... - Peter soltó al rubio de inmediato y salió rápidamente del baño. Eddie sudaba frío, solo en el baño, pegado a la pared aún, traumatizado, se sintió débil y frágil, sus piernas no dejaban de temblar, era la primera vez que alguien intentaba violarlo, solo pudo encogerse y quedarse en estado fetal en el piso de aquel baño.
  5. The Prelude is found HERE The preceding chapter is found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Fifteen ”Did you know, that Northern Ireland has two Governor-Generals since the Maundy Thursday Agreement?”, Max asked Jim. Max was watching a documentary about history, and Jim was cooking. ”I’ve never understood if Northern Ireland is a part of UK or a part of Ireland.”, Jim answered. ”Neither. In reality it’s totally independent and sovereign, they say here, but the Maundy Thursday Agreement introduced The Andorra Solution, and there is still a legal fiction in place, keeping a notional tie to the UK, balanced with a few words about 'located in the north of the island of Ireland, the history of which it is a part'. Some of their politicians use the expression Canada plus plus” ”What’s The Andorra Solution?”, Jim shouted over the sound of chicken frying in a pan. ”It means, that Northern Ireland has two citizens who ’take precedence over all other persons in the State’: One of them, the King of Northern Ireland, coincide with the Monarch of the UK under another name, and the other one, the President of Northern Ireland, coincide with the President of Ireland under another name. None of the ’citizens who take precedence’ ever put their feet on Northern Irish soil, but appoints one Governor-General each instead.” ”What’s a Governor-General? Is that like a President? Oh, wait! Doesn’t Canada have a Governor-General?”, Jim shouted back. The scent of chicken began to spread through the flat. ”Not like the sort of President we have here in Cascadia. My impression from this documentary is, that Governor-Generals are mainly involved in cutting ribbons, and they say here, that they are not allowed to have any political opinions at all. All the cabinet-work is done by two Prime Ministers.” ”Two?” ”Yes, one of them from the one of the unionist parties which got the highest number of votes, which seem to be the Alliance Party these days, and the other one from the one of the republican parties which got the highest number of votes, but the documentary hasn’t got to the last decade yet, so I’m not sure which one that is.” ”Sounds complicated.” ”From what they say in this documentary, it’s a country with a very complicated history. Come here, Jim. Since I got those mind-implants I feel so incredibly dumb. Watch this, so you can explain it to me later! What the hell is a Dail?” Jim joined Max in the sofa. There were two history professors chuckling on the screen: "Stormont is obliged to have seven different flags on show outside, because the inhabitants weren't able to decide which one to chose. In order, to not offend anyone, they fly all seven 365 days a year. * * * Alpha titan. His mind felt weird. Weird but good. Rob and Nate had showered together after the 'hancing process, and had heard the faint noises of Bill cleaning the jacuzzi for next customer from the treatment room nearby. Bill had taken their new improved measures, and sent them to the waiting tailor, but then, Rob and Nate had been separated because of the theme party later in the night. They had grumblingly accepted to be separated, and Rob was now waiting in an adjacent room, only wearing a terrycloth bath robe and sipping mineral water and a protein shake. He felt strange. Dizzy. Weird but good. Bill had explained to them before the rejuvenation, that their hormone levels would return to the levels of their late teens, but Rob had never felt like he did right now. He clenched his fist and flexed his biceps. Stronger. Stronger than ever. This must be the hormone levels he would’ve had, if he had ’hanced in his teens. He had never felt like this before. It felt … The tailors had been prepared for the incoming order within the facility. Bill brought him a parcel wrapped in brown recycled paper. It was meant to be a surprise. Rob had put an X in the form deciding Nate’s clothes for the theme party, and Nate had decided what Rob had to wear, none of them supposed to tell the other beforehand. They had kept their promises. Let’s see what Nate wanted Rob to wear. He unwrapped the parcel. The rascal must be kidding. Mixed feelings welled up inside himself. Oh Nate … The sweetest man. The toughest man. Nate’s sense of humour … The iconic jacket gave it away. The large amount of surplus army blankets in the end of the Space War had caused the Armed Forces to use the blankets to produce bomber jackets out of blanket fabric, and the veterans had continued to use them after discharge, which in course … The Bad Boys. The particular style of jacket had become popular among younger brothers and neighbours of veterans in rough areas, and become a part of Bad Boy wardrobe that way. It was affordable. It was efficient. It was tough looking. All the things Bad Boys were aiming for. Well, the jacket had to wait. Each piece of clothing in order... Jockstraps had been more in Nate’s taste, than in Rob’s, but he dutifully put the jockstrap from the parcel on. There was a collar, two ribbed bands and a spray can. He sighed, conflicted, and asked Bill for assistance. Bill helped him put the spray-on polo on, and it looked – eh, sprayed on – which was flattering. Polo fabric clung to the two hemispheres of his beefy pec shelf, and snugly hugged his volleyball-sized and steel-hard shoulders. The scent of the leather trousers filled his nostrils. Except for that silly commercial many years ago, it wasn’t a fabric he usually preferred to wear. Since they were tight-fitting, it took him some time to put them on. Then he leaned down, and buttoned the buttons along the outside of his calves, and, since they were tailored for his exact measures, the trousers fit like a glove. He tied his boots. Bill helped him put his braces in place, and he tightened the leather belt. Before he put the jacket on, he noticed the embroidered patch on the back of the jacket: ”Party like there’s no tomorrow.” ”Nate, you cheeky bastard.” Rob inspected himself in the mirror, and his conflicting feelings returned. His face was youthful, but it wasn’t the face of his youth: His cheek was more powerful. The bones in his jaws were more prominent. There was something about how he held his head, that was different from his youth. His teenage bullies had looked like this, but no, they hadn’t. None of his teenage bullies had been built like this tall, wide, massive muscleman. A lump formed in his throat, and blood rushed to his dick, forming a nice bulge inside the leather trousers. His teenage bullies had run scared witless if they had faced his present self. He adjusted his stance again. The lump in his throat became more noticeable, the bulge in his trousers harder, and something fluttered deliciously in his lats, his chest and his gut. ”Nate, you cheeky bastard.” Then he remembered, which option he had chosen for Nate, and he couldn’t avoid cracking up in a smile, realising, that Nate probably went through similar mixed feelings at the same time. A nineteen-old Bad Boy with his own face stood in the mirror, and gazed back at him. He adjusted his stance again, adjusted his posture, cheek raised in an arrogant pose and made a double biceps. Three bulges throbbed: two bicepses hugged by ribbed bands and one, leather-clad, in his trousers. Perhaps not so bad, after all. He began to look forward to the theme party. * * * They gathered in separate room of the facility. Rob was fresh from the hairdresser, who had given him a mohawk buzzcut, the rest of his head entirely shaved. It felt unusual. Not his usual style. Air against the skin of his head. All men in the room were dressed in Bad Boy style. All the BIG men. ”Big” didn’t mean, that they were all of the same build. Some of them looked like participants in ’Men’s Physique’ competitions. Some were short and wide fireplugs. There were bodybuilder-shaped men and there were strongman-shaped men. And then there was Rob. It sunk in, that, even at a ’Hancing-facility, he was the biggest man in the room. His leather-clad bulge throbbed again. He hadn’t been competitive in the past. ’Hancing had not been about competitiveness to him, but about wellbeing and service to others, but the rejuvenation had awakened an unfamiliar side of himself inside. Biggest man in the room. Throbbed again. Admiring glances in his direction. Respect bordering to fear in some glances. Throbbed again. All dressed in Bad Boy style. No sign of Nate. Perhaps … An employee of Physical Potential Foundation cleared his voice, and began to speak: ”The theme of the surprise party is BAD BOYS GATECRASH THE FRAT PARTY. The other participants are kept in the belief, that the theme is BIG JOCKS’ FRAT PARTY. Before we all invade their party, have a welcome drink here, and get to know each other.” No sign of beer. Since hops farmers were struggling with parasites and the dwindling number of bees, beer was the posh drink these times: What you could expect among the affluent, not among working class Bad Boys. Despite their decent incomes, neither Rob nor Nate had consumed beer particularly often, only very seldom. ”You are a big fellow, mate.” A burly Bad Boy pressed a glass of vodka in Rob’s hand. Rob nodded, and the man continued: ”Are you a younger relative to that man in that MegaGrowth commercial? You know, the famous one: I HAVE THE POWER!” Rob cracked up in a smile again: ”That’s actually me. I just rejuvenated. I’m Rob.” He hesitated. Then he put his glass down, stroke a pose and shouted in the familiar way: "I HAVE THE POWER". His demonstration was appreciated. Time allowed him conversations with three men in the same tough-looking style. The room was increasingly filled with the scent of leather, cigar smoke, vodka, anti-perspirants and sweat. Then the employee interrupted: ”It’s time, blokes. Time to surprise the fratboys and crash their party.” Rob felt in good mood and excited. The mood in the room rose to even higher levels. Someone shouted: ”Party like there’s no tomorrow!” Oh, what he had hated that catchfrase in the past. Now, in this very moment, he allowed himself to become one with that catchfrase, and he bellowed: ”PARTY LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW!” It was met with cheer, and their crowd was set in motion towards the room where the jocks were. The facial expression of the men wearing NuJock-style clothes was an expression of total surprise. The rooms were styled to look like a frat-house, and the mix of clothes from the 1950s, 1980s and 2030s that had merged in NuJock was ever present in the rooms, not surprisingly, taking in regard how popular that style was among ’hancers. Rob looked for Nate. It wasn’t difficult to find him, since he was the biggest of the ”fratboys”, sitting in a sofa surrounded by two admirers and a third one at the floor between his legs. Nate was wearing a white t-shirt, a varsity jacket and unbleached denim jeans, and his hair was styled in 1980s fashion. The loud music in the speakers changed the same moment the Bad Boys entered the room, and Third Wave of British Donk was filling their ears. An admiring NuJock pressed a beer bottle in his hand. He answered with a bro nod, grabbed the bottle with his right hand, drank eagerly and grabbed the NuJock with his left hand. The yelp coming from the other man confirmed, that he enjoyed the gesture. He kissed the NuJock, simultaneously glancing in Nate’s direction. Nate was surrounded by three men’s attention, but Nate glanced back and winked. Rob winked back. The masculine energy in the room was way beyond 100%. Brawny ’hancers, many of them young-looking, but presumably in many different ages, kissed and groped each other, or sat relaxed talking to each other over a drink or two. The polos and t-shirts revealed the powerful build of them. Rob’s memories returned, mixed, blurred … The years immediately after their ’hancing, Rob and Nate had spent a lot of time clubbing, exploring the pleasure their powerful muscular bodies were able of, but they had been in their mid- to late twenties then, and this return to a teenage state … He was a horny giant with the testosterone of a titanic teenager now. Snogging Bad Boys and NuJocks were fun, but … Nate. His mind was eager for Nate. His body lusted for Nate. There was no one like his husband. Mildly squiffy, Rob waddled confidently through the crowd and loud donk-music, his leather-trousers squeeking as he moved, and he found himself standing before Nate’s sofa, erect, wide-shouldered and with his bootclad muscular legs wide apart. He registred how the other men’s eyes became wide in awe, but his main focus was at Nate, the biggest frat-jock in the room. Their eyes met. Time disappeared, and they silently lost themselves in each other's eyes: Rob’s icy blue and Nate’s gemstone brown. Rob’s bulge throbbed inside the glossy black leather. Nate’s bulge throbbed in unison inside the blue denim. Rob broke the silence: ”Sorry lads. This one belongs to me.” He lowered himself in a squatting position, grabbed Nate with his big hands, and then the titanic platinum-blond Bad Boy left the room firmly carrying the biggest NuJock in the room. Most eyes were turned in their diretion when they left, but the party went on. The bulge in Nate’s jeans confirmed, that Nate enjoyed his husband’s demontration of strength, and they soon reached their hotel room, where Rob threw Nate on the bed: ”More fun to come, fratboy!” ”Hell, yes, Bad Boy!” Then they laughed, and said in unison: ”Of all styles … This one?” The sound of their deep laughs reverberated inside their hotel room, again. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  6. PART 1: The Season Opener I swallowed hard. The time had almost come, just another minute to go. I was sweating bullets as I waited behind the archway for my cue. The sound of the crowd out there was almost deafening, even back here behind the soundproof walls. I don't think I've ever been this excited or nervous before in my life. It was time for my very first match! An incredibly important one at that; the big opening match of the season. After months of anticipation, it was finally time to see if all those extreme stretches and stress tests were worth the effort. This match-up was going to push me to my limits. I was going up against the second biggest guy in the league right out the gate. It was a hell of a surprise for a first-time rookie like myself. Most guys in my position are lucky to book a match with an opponent at the lower end of the size rankings, maybe a mid-tier. My dinky little boner throbbed in my singlet just thinking about how gargantuan this guy was gonna be. I couldn't wait for him to crush me flatter than a pancake. "Ladiiiiiiies and gentlemen," I heard the announcer start. "We here at the C.W.L. hope you're ready for an explosive evening of heavy slamming, hard blasting, ultra intense, and extra imbalanced mayhem!" Deep breaths, Jeremy, deep breaths. Here we go... "And now, without further ado: In this corner, standing at mere 4 foot, 9 inches and weighing in at a measly 90 lbs, your Jobber for this evening: Jeremyyyyyy 'The Doormat' Smallwood." Right on cue, I walk through the entryway and began my first ever walk to the ring. Fireworks streamed out along the pathway, spunky theme music pumped through the speakers, and the crowd was cheering with ravenous anticipation. The intense wall of sound hit my ears like a freight train, but the overwhelming cacophany jazzed me up for what was ahead. It took me a hot minute to journey down the lengthy path, climb the daunting stairs, and awkwardly clamber to my corner. I took a moment to soak in the sight of the sprawling expanse of empty mat and the towering turnbuckles looming overhead. The ring here had to be extra, extra enormous since this league's wrestlers were- *THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM* A mighty and imposing form had slowly stomped its way to the entryway opposite mine, waiting in the shadows for his cue to come out next. I could barely see his outline with all the overwhelming lights, lasers, and fog machines blasting everywhere, but my opponent was ready. I swallowed hard again, shaking like a leaf in anticipation. He was even bigger than I had anticipated. Hell yeah. "In this corner, standing at an incredible 24 feet, 11 inches and weighing a staggering 45,550 lbs, your Colossus for the evening: Apollooooo 'The Apocalypse' Rexford." *BOOM* *THOOM* *DOOM* *FOOM* Thunderous footfalls made the entire stadium shake intensely as Apollo slowly stomped his way to the ring. The league didn't typically bother playing theme music for the big boys; the booms generated by their every step were more than enough to raise the crowd's excitement. It was like the thumping of drums from a barbarian warship, signaling the arival of an unstoppable force. The cheers from the crowd when they saw me paled in comparison to how loudly they screamed for Apollo. I bit my lip as I watched him make his way toward the ring, his head rising higher and higher while simultaneously filling more and more of my horizonal view. He was a towering, impossible wall of muscles on muscles on muscles on MUSCLES even wider than he was tall. It took all of my concentration not to cream my singlet right then and there just from the quaking vibrations his mammoth feet. I'd saved up all week for this, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste. You may be wondering why a minuscule shrimp like me is being matched up against a man 500 times his weight and five times his height. Seems a little bit one-sided for a wrestling match, right? Absolutely! That's how things have always been in the Colossus Wrestling League. In the C.W.L. it's always a tiny resilient wimp against a hulking multi-ton bully. My job isn't to actually wrestle this monstrous man, goodness no. That would be silly. My job is to be his personal plaything, punching bag, and boy toy for the next few hours while an adoring horny adult audience enjoys the spectacle. That's the life of a professional jobber in this miraculous age. We jobbers are few and far between; an extremely rare mutation of human that is almost entirely immune to direct physical damage or injury. We're naturally small and scrawny in build, but you can crush us, squish us, slam us, bend us, stretch us, twist us - whatever really. We'll always end up springing back to normal soon enough like a rubbery cartoon prop. And on top of that, we're also highly resistant to pain. Being smooshed like a grape certainly feels intense, even overwhelming and uncomfortable at times, but it doesn't particularly hurt. If anything, for me at least, it's the ultimate turn-on. On the opposite end of the spectrum, but no less rare, are the colossi. While jobbers are tiny and resistant, they're gargantuan and tough. All colossi are ridiculously tall and naturally bursting at the seams with inhuman muscles. Even if a colossus never lifted a weight in his life he would have a bod so impossibly powerful and pumped he'd make the Incredible Hulk feel scrawny. But a big bod comes with hefty needs for fuel and relief; colossi have infamously massive appetites and sex drives to match their muscle. With the C.W.L. footing all their members' sky-high food bills and providing willing toys like me, most are more than happy to sign up as wrestlers and entertain the horny masses. And so, here we are. The big match. After many quake-inducing steps, Apollo had made it to the ring. My eyes widened as nearly 23 tons of bulk effortlessly stepped over the lofty ropes and made the specially-built, highly reinforced wrestling mat sag noticeably. His muscles, glistening under the lights with a perpetual cascade of sweat, were even more magnificent close up. Every obscenely disproportionate muscle group battled ferociously with one another for space at the tiniest of movements while an awe-inspiring tangle of thick, undulating vascularity snaked across every rippling surface. I once more bit my lip, overwhelmed by, not just the sight of him, but also his smell. Apollo, like most colossi, radiated a naturally intoxicating pheromone-heavy masculine musk. Few were immune to its enticing effects, and the bigger the colossus, the more potent his reek. I took a deep, deep inhale while my eyes were busy drinking in as many visual details of the beautiful he-man who would be flattening me tonight as they possibly could. Frick, he was absurdly handsome. Apollo's face seemed just as excessively macho as his body, with rugged features that looked like they had been carved from granite. That hard square chin. Those razor sharp cheekbones. That flawless stubble. Those full kissable lips. Long flowing locks of gorgeous golden hair flowed down from his head to the base of his 'neck.' Although, honestly, his neck was so thick with bulging meat that it barely resembled a neck at all any more. In fact, all of Apollo's extreme beef threatened to engulf his lovely face entirely from just about every direction. As if 25 feet of brute height wasn't enough, his trapezius muscles towered over his head by several additional feet. His massive deltoids, spread what felt like a mile apart, looked bigger than sedans. His prodigious powerful pectorals seemed like they'd dwarf small blimps. Both beef zeppelins pressed up intensely at his chin while jutting forward so unbelievably far that I'm honestly surprised the shelf's weight didn't topple him over. A dozen people could've been swallowed whole in the dark abyss between those tiddies. I certainly hoped I could go spelunking in those caverns eventually. His mile-wide upper body cinched down rapidly to create the most extreme, exaggerated hour-glass figure you can imagine. His long, hard 18-pack abs and rippling obliques tensed with densely-packed power as they worked overtime to keep his immense upper body balanced. The valleys between each pair of abs was also impressively deep; I bet if he did sit-ups you could crush coal into diamonds. To my surprise given the infamous nature of colossus dongs, there wasn't much of, if any, bulge to speak of in the front of his skin-tight sapphire blue speedo. I ever-so briefly experienced the one tiny twinge of disappointment I would feel that night... right up until I lowered my gaze a little further. Apollo's lower body immediately exploded back outward from his lean waist. His monstrous rippling pillars of quad muscle were as wide as his shoulders. There was NO space between them - it was quad vs quad in the ultimate battle for supremacy. You'd probably need to sit way back in the arena's nosebleed seats to observe all his hyper-developed leg meat at once. His calves were no less impressive, the fat carved diamonds were bulging like meat mattresses from carrying all that sheer tonnage. And then, at the very bottom, below his perfectly sculpted ankles, were his feet. Holy shit, those feet. Even for a man of his size and extreme dimensions they seemed disproportionately huge and muscly. Outside the ring Apollo normally wore specialized shoes made of an advanced shock-absorbing material so he didn't destroy every surface he stepped on. But here in the wrestling ring I got to see them in all their beautiful bare glory: perfectly smooth, immaculately clean, and flawlessly pedicured. In fact, every inch of my massive opponent from head to toe was flawlessly well-kept, since the colossi were pampered like royalty behind the scenes. The jobbers were treated fairly well too, but we didn't require quite as much upkeep as the men whose nails outsize trashcan lids. It took noticeable effort for him to do so, but Apollo managed to press his big burly chin down low enough into his obscuring tit meat to look at me directly. He licked his lips, a hungry and flirtatious smile spreading over his face. He let out a low, deep, velvety baritone grunt of desire that seemed to ripple through his muscles and vibrate from there throughout the entire arena. I once more came dangerously close to blasting in my load, but managed to hold on. Judging by some moans I heard in the crowd, several people weren't able to hold back as effectively. "Oh yeah..." he growled low, drinking in the audience's lust as he stared me down. "I'm gonna have fun with you, little man." Apollo began to raise up his arms, preparing to flex for his adoring public. The two monoliths were so incredibly thick they may well have put even his pecs and quads to shame. His forearms were so fat with bulging meat I was earnestly surprised he had as much mobility as he did. The preposterous pythons throbbed with macho power, bunching up and battling with themselves from just this simple lifting motion, and hovered tangelizingly out to each side. A hush came over the crowd in anticipation of the coming display. I was drooling a little. *BOOM* A shockwave of air rippled out from each peak as Apollo performed a front double-bicep pose. Each arm muscle blasted upward, forming a perfectly split peak that reached up to his clenched fists. The audience once more erupted with cheers, but he wasn't done just yet. With clenched teeth and a primal grunt he flexed his arms harder, willing more mass to spill out as his veins engorged with blood. Through this Herculean efforts both biceps rapidly rose, releasing another shockwave while the peaks reached the same astounding height as his traps. Not to be outdone, his triceps had simultaneously erupted in the opposite direction, becoming so large that their beautifully absurd forms slammed into the wrestling mat below. The mini-earthquake this created made me fall over, and I whimpered as I once more struggled not to pop off before the match even started. I wanted to worship this man with every fiber of my being. He was a grotesque monument to pure unhindered muscularity, and I wanted to lick every inch of him. As he bounced both bodacious biceps rhythmically, Apollo's audience showered him with yet more cheers and adoration. He beamed with satisfaction. The rhythmic bounces sent his abundant arm sweat spritzing out into the audience, splashing a lucky handful. After a minute or so of this pumped peacock display he finally relaxed his flex, his tremendous arms shrinking down to their smaller, though still awe-inspiring, size. I couldn't wait to see if his other muscles were capable of such extreme explosions of excess bulk. "Listen up, all you pathetic little PIPSQUEAKS!" Apollo commanded to his captivated audience. His neck meat clenched intensely whenever he raised his voice for emphasis. There was no need for microphones with colossi since their deep booming voices usually filled the arena with relatively little effort. "It's the first match of the season. A BIG event! And BIG events featuring dudes as BIG as me need big BIG surprises. So for a long while now I've been brewing an extra special gift for whichever miniscule, microscopic, scrawny little piece of fresh meat I eventually got paired with today." He pointed to me with a ravenous smirk. My heart was aflutter. "You know us big guys, we are a HORNY bunch. Most of us can't go more than a couple hours without pumping out one of our infamous monster loads. But, y'know what? You know what, weaklings? While you impatient bugs were out there beating off daily to my perfectly sculpted muscles," He did a small (for him at least) side-chest pose for emphasis. From where I was standing I could actually hear his muscle fibers groan. "I haven't let loose even once since the last season ended. Not. One. Single. Time." The audience let out a collective gasp. A colossus going one day without a release was one thing, maybe a week if they had the willpower... but several months? Utterly unheard of. "That's right, you PUNY JOBBER RUNT," he gleefully barked, turning his attention back to me. "I hope you're ready for the ride of your little life because I am PENT," With an audible lurching throb, the previously lacking bulge in Apollo's blue speedo surged outward, a mound bigger than my entire body throbbing from nowhere under the fabric. "-the FUCK," It lurched again harder, rapidly multiplying in erect mass. His previously non-existant balls suddenly rivaled small mini-vans in size, spilling out from the the impossibly stretched spandex, which somehow managed to retain its shape around the increasingly large hardening dick. The two multi-ton mounds hit the ground hard enough to cause another quake. "-UP!!" With one last monumental surge Apollo's rock-hard, heavily-veined schlong was towering above me at almost 15 feet long. I'm pretty sure it was twice as thick in circumference as my entire body. It was nothing short of a scientific miracle that his speedo was still intact. It was stretched comically thin and tight, leaving most of him exposed and rendering it a little bit superfluous. His mighty balls were now comparible to his pecs in rounded size, visibly churning with the countless gallons upon gallons of spunk he had been saving up those many months and somehow kept secret until mere moments ago. The visible skin of his dick throbbed crimson as globs of pre the size of my head dripped down like a leaky faucet through the soaked fabric at the tip. It looked, for lack of a better word, ANGRY. This thing was pissed off about holding back for so long, and it was looking to let out its pent-up aggression on someone small, wimpy, and conveniantly invulnerable to damage. As I salivated silently over this latest erogenous display of hypermasculinity and battled once more to keep my loins calm... the bell suddenly rang. Time for the match to begin.
  7. My humble submission and new obsession. It’s my first original work and heavily influence by all the talent that has submitted over the year. I’m hoping I get more parts going asap. Sorry if the formatting is a little wonky. Superman and the Cole Twins Part 1 Clark walked into the new-ish campus gym and let the smells of sweat and chlorine wash over him. It was late but that was the best time to “work out”. Peace and quiet. The smells were one thing but the sounds of conversations, rubber and metal clanking together on top of the heartbeats and footfalls of the other students were too distracting for his performance here. His physique had absorbed solar radiation for over 20 years and it showed. At 6’1” and 225 pounds, he was a big guy. If you passed him on the street you would swear he was a bodybuilder, leading to the problem of a secret identity. If Clark Kent was going to get around in the world, he needed an excuse for his muscular frame. During High School, he could claim that his physique came from a regimented schedule of farming responsibilities and a home gym. Clark had now been in college in Indiana a couple of years and early on decided, as cover, he would “lift weights” and go through other motions that physical specimens of his caliber, were expected to be doing. He had played some football in High School but because of his abilities he felt that it wasn’t fair in such a competitive setting. College was supposed to ease him into more of an independent life before the obligations of his abilities overrode any sort of personal life. “Clark, buddy!” boomed Dave Cole. “Want to work in with us?” Dave stood over the bench where his brother Butch was pressing a rapid set of what Clark could see was maybe 225 pounds. He had overheard them frequently calling such light weights as their “warm up weight”. “Hey Dave, hey Butch. Maybe later, need to change.” Clark let his eye linger a little on the brothers as he made his way to the locker room. Butch had sat up on the bench and was looking down at his pumped chest. As he was putting on his jock strap and shorts and t-shirt, his mind was on the twin brothers. They were both around 6’2” and what Clark could guess was maybe 230-240 pounds each. When Clark had started college, the brothers were a year older than him and maybe an inch shorter. Within the last two years, they had grown to the point where they were practically as tall as Clark and wide to the point where their shoulders literally looked like boulders. The striations on their chest muscles were always clearly visible through some chest hair and whatever shirt or tank top they chose for the day. They looked like they were in competition shape, year round. Clark had overheard them joke before about their “dick skin” look. They were right, the brothers looked like they were just completely ripped. His x-ray vision was seeing their body heat actually be a little higher than what you would think about a normal human. These guys were always looking to get bigger and stronger, working with such an incredible discipline that you couldn’t help admire their dedication. His own Kryptonian DNA absorbed pure sunlight and his muscles were pumped with straining energy from daily exposures. He had never given much thought as he grew up around human beings that he was different from them. But after high school and now college, he was doubtful that without some type of true Super-level resistance training his body would be ‘stuck’ at its current development for a while. Although being able to lift a mountain was more than enough consolation for such concerns. Heading back out onto the main floor, he started jumping some rope to act like he was warming up. His senses were getting a bit of a break as the gym was empty except for two strong, slow heartbeats. He looked up and around to see if maybe the brothers were close by but they were at the squat rack with an enormous amount of weight. These guys were barely even breaking a sweat with 525 pound squats. He watched Dave easily control the weight as his ass touched the floor and pause as he brought the bar back up to his full height. Pumping out a set of 15, Dave racked the weight and Butch took his place. His massive quads and calves exploding as he performed a set as equally impressive as Dave’s. The guys were decked in string tank tops and a pair of shorts that were loose enough around their upper legs but tight enough when their asses went all the way to the floor in a squat that you could see the straps of their jocks. Dave had pulled one leg of his shorts up to his crotch and was flexing his massive legs in the mirror in front of him. When he looked up from his own reflection, he caught Clark staring. With a smirk, he pulled the other side of the shorts up as well against his huge crotch and flexed both quads and calves into what appeared to be diamond hard muscle, snaked with large veins over top. Butch racked his weight back and stood beside Dave, did the same thing and started comparing his massive legs to his brother’s. “You going to jump rope all day or you going to do some damage?” Butch smiled in the mirror at Clark, bunching up his shorts against his large crotch and shaking a leg and then flexing it to a full stop. “Man you guys are just huge. What’s your secret?” Clark walked over to the squat rack and put one hand on the cold metal plates. “Eat, eat, eat. Gotta feed these muscles,” Dave grinned as he swept both arms in a circular motion flexing, bending forward into a most muscular pose to where his traps exploded on either side of his huge veiny neck. Clark’s mouth must have dropped open because the brothers both chuckled. “Sorry, don’t mean to gawk. You guys are goals, you know that right?” With smiles on their faces, Dave playfully punched Butch in the pec. It didn’t move, it was like stone. The guys didn’t think of respecting physical space when they were talking about bodybuilding, they would show you the different muscle groups located where on your body or theirs; which muscles would be the focus of whatever exercise they were performing. Dave stepped over to Clark and pulled a side of his own shorts back up, “flex what you got buddy!” Caught up in the moment, Clark did the same, pulled a side of his shorts up and flexed his leg hard. “Jesus man, looking big!” Butch walked over to the other side of Clark and did the same, comparing the brother’s legs to his Kryptonian muscle. Before he could let his shorts fall back, Dave put a hand on Clark’s hairy leg, near the top of his quad and squeezed hard. Clark grinned and flexed a little harder, then noticed Dave’s hand was squeezing his leg. How was that possible? His leg was supposed to be like steel but it was clearly giving way under Dave’s strong grip. “You need a pump big guy” Butch said as the three of them looked back to the squat rack. “I think I’m going to have to drop a little of that weight before I get under it. You guys are on another level, y’know? “Hell buddy, you need to train with us every day. You could dwarf us, if we packed it on ya,” Butch said, looking Clark up and down. “Butch, leave the kid alone. Do you really want more competition?” Dave brought both arms up in front of him into a double bicep pose, the veins on top of the dense muscle fibers looking like raised rivers of power over and around the muscles. The biceps exploded from thick slabs on his arms to a peak that Clark shook his head at. “Fuck that Dave, keep testing me” Butch said with a grin as he brought both arms up on either side of his head, standing where he was holding one arm in front of Dave’s. Clark got swept up into the moment and hiked his straining sleeves up on his t-shirt, and copied the two men. Looking from his own mountain peak of striated bicep to theirs, both brothers leaned over in front of him and began their own comparisons. “It’s gotta be steroids, right, man?” Dave grinned at Clark. Keeping one arm up, he reached with the other and got ahold of Clark’s right bicep peak. Almost at the same time, Butch reached up with one hand and grabbed Clark’s left. As they both felt Clark’s bicep, his steel muscle was giving way to their grips, probing of his muscle density. “Ow, guys! You have got a helluva grip. Remind me never to piss you off.” Clark pulled away from the brothers who looked at each other and laughed. Butch slapped Clark on the back, almost knocking him forward, “Dude, we’re pussycats.” He winked as he adjusted himself with his other hand. Dave took some weight off the squat bar, “I think this is what you were working with last time” as he loaded about 360 pounds on the bar. “Thanks, I’m definitely not on you guys’ level. How much was that weight you were squatting Butch? A VW Bug?” “I wish Clark. That’s some Superman level shit right there. We’re going to go finish out with the Leg Press machine and some calf raises. Oh and abs.” Butch raised the bottom of his tank up about to his plated chest muscles. His eight pack was cut and solid, covered with large veins almost seeing to want to burst through the skin containing them. His adonis belt was cut and pointing down toward the heavy bulge below. It was completely shave, with bit of the trimmed chest hair just above. Like instinct, he put his left fist on that hip and tilted his long torso slightly to one side and raised the other arm, flexing it as if an offering to the gods. Clark smiled, “Mr. Universe, right here my friends…” he was looking around the empty room, trying to rally the crowd, pointing to Butch. Realizing Dave was right behind him, Clark turned to see him pressing the entire calf raise rack, with a 45 pound plate chained to his waist. Up and down, up and down. Over and over, veins straining over solid muscled, pumping them to an incredible size. At some point Clark realized he wasn’t counting the reps and couldn’t remember the last time he did, maybe around 45? Dave stopped, unhooking his belt and lowered the plate to the ground with a gentle thud. “I’m about done, Butch too, probably. Gonna hit the treadmill for a little cardio and then I think we’re doing the steam room if it’s still open. It can be pretty therapeutic for releasing toxins from your body and loosening muscles up after a good pump.” Dave grinned. “Gotta stay loose, right?” Clark felt his cheeks getting warm… was he blushing? What the hell is Superman doing blushing? “How can I refuse?” Turning back to the squat rack with a sheepish grin, Clark squared up and started squatting the bar, his 365 pounds, not going quite to the bottom and feigning a little effort throughout. In between sets he could see Butch and Dave, side by side on treadmills. Running. You would think these two large specimens would pound the treadmills at the pace they were going but no it was just an even, light ‘thud’. Every muscle in their body was rigid but pliable and moving at the same time. There was no flopping of large muscles, it was magnificent. Clark realized he was getting hard. He turned away and pulled at his shorts to try and reposition and hide his bulge. He sat at the leg extension facing away from the treadmills. Ok, he had to come to grips with something. These guys were sex incarnate. He and Lana fooled around in High School a little but he couldn’t truly have sex with her. He wouldn’t take that chance. When his powers fully manifested and he could go to unpopulated areas, his guilt-level for getting off was a lot lower. As long as no one was around. It was safer that way. But Kal El, the Superman, had other fantasies. He starting to have more control over his powers and he would be able to do certain things and still provide safety for those participating. While he first experimented with Lana, he still felt like an alien life form outside humanity. He could not keep himself isolated, he found all human genders incredibly erotic. Kryptonians and human beings were built almost identical on the outside, down to the sexes and their similar reproductive functions. But early on, Clark found that his super abilities had a heightening effect on his libido. Today the brothers had dialed that sensitivity up to ten thousand with just their presence. He had spoken with them and worked in sets with them maybe six or seven times over the two years he was here but his mind was always distracted by crises of the day or even just the future. Maybe his mature Kryptonian form had mating periods. There was so much knowledge lost, it’s all just fragments now, scattered. As soon as he thought he had spent a normal time working out, Clark finished up with legs and did some stretching; just happening be in view of the treadmills. They were walking at a medium pace, ‘cooling down’. Clark headed to the locker room, and as he got through the door he heard Dave call out, “hey buddy, hold the door?” The Cole twins strode in bare chested, tank tops in hand. Dave tapped an appreciative fist against Clark’s shoulder with a thunk as he walked by. Butch walked in scratching the trimmed hair on his chest. The locker room was a modern open area with lockers along the walls with sinks, mirrors and stacks of towels, and grooming stations on the walls facing the lockers. There was a door to the showers, a door to the steam room and a door to the pool. Both the steam room and the pool had signs they were closed. Going down the short hall to the steam room, Dave opened the unlocked door to test it and then fiddled with the controls on the wall outside. “Give that about 10 minutes and it should be steam time. Tricks of the gym trade,” Dave chuckled. Clark’s locker was a ways down from the guys. He peeled off his t-shirt and used it to wipe imaginary sweat off his dark hairy arm pits, then up and down his torso. He felt pretty proud of his own build. Thick pecs, dark perfect chest hair, covering his six pack abs, with a clear adonis belt of his own. His shoulders and arms were large with veins running down each bicep and forearms. His legs were hairy, big and defined with concrete calves. He turned and went to grab a couple of towels from the sinks and realized that Dave and Butch had pulled off their shorts and were posing in the mirror close by. Concentrating, Clark tried to distinguish differences in their builds. Their bodies were near identical. They had similar hairstyles, brown hair brushed over to the same side, neatly trimmed with a tight fade at the bottom. Dave and Butch both had neatly trimmed brown chest hair with shave abs. Their forearms had trimmed brown hair as well. Their legs were completely shaved, accentuating their physiques. They each wore a large black cotton jockstrap that pulled their cocks down by their balls very tight. Across the elastic band was written “Addicted” in yellow on both. As if in unison, both stepped forward on the same foot towards the mirror into a most muscular pose. Their traps exploded on top of their shoulders into powerful backs. Their reflection in the mirror of their fronts was ungodly. It was easy to just stand there and stare. He looked up and they were watching him, grinning. He stripped his own shorts off, threw them on the bench beside his t-shirt and walked over to them in his own solid red jock. He had adjusted himself before he turned and now he felt his cock wanting to strain against the fabric but he kept it under excruciating control. Butch pulled at the front of his jock, trying to adjust himself. “Damn, this thing is distracting.” Clark wondered if he meant the jock or his semi monstrous erection. Then he realized that it was just soft. “Idea!” Dave strode back down the hall, taking the ‘Closed’ sign from the pool door. He affixed it on the outside of the men’s locker room door. When he came back in, he turned the lock on the door. He knew the staff person on duty: Deena. “She’s a nice chick but she could care less about rounds or even who was here. Plus no one is coming in at this hour.” Dave looked at Butch first then met Clark’s gaze. “Looks like we can let the beasts out of the cage.” As Dave was speaking, Butch was pulling his jock down taking it off completely and tossing it on their gym bags. Butch pulled at his meat a couple of times, to air it out from being stuck to his heavy balls and then let it hang. Dave was more deliberate. He pulled the band down and rolled it over so the “Addicted” was upside down and the colors were reversed. He turned and flexed his glutes, stretching the waistband down over his ass. Clark caught a glimpse of Dave’s tanned hole, “My god,” he had to keep himself from whispering and hope that he didn’t actually. With a grin, Dave turned and pulled his jock over his legs and out each foot. He looked like he was flexing every muscle in his body. His cock hung there, thick and heavy. He wasn’t hard, either. Clark then realized Dave wasn’t flexing. His body was just a solid mass of power. Butch went into a side chest post, with his raised leg side facing them. Dave shook Clark’s shoulder seeming to almost wake him from a daze. “C’mon buddy, let’s hit it!” The mirror showed three massive muscle men hitting perfect forms. Clark flexed as hard as he could, almost shaking with forcing his muscles to their most pumped. The Cole twins looked relaxed, as if this was no exertion. Putting his hands on his hips and spreading his lats to their widest, Butch signaled the next flex. Dave and Clark followed with their own. Clark’s spread was definitely not as wide as theirs. These men were dwarfing Superman but it helped that he was humble and not so proud to admit they were sex gods. “Maybe I do need some help in the training department.” Clark grinned and turned to face them. “Dude you are jacked. Do not let anyone tell you different.” Butch put a hand on Clark’s shoulder and gave a slight squeeze. “Are you doing any fitness modeling? Camming? Onlyfans bullshit?” he grinned. “Naw brother! Clark’s a kept man! You don’t look like that and pay for jack shit.” Dave couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. “Buddy we are just pulling your chain. You do you. As long as you look like that doing it!” Did Butch’s cock just twitch? Clark thought, “that grin he’s giving me, it’s like the friendliest version of the cat who could eat the canary.” They stared at him for a little too long and then looked at each other and nodded. “Fellas, I do believe our steam room is ready.” Dave bowed and pointed down the hall. “Grab your towels and let’s loosen up.” Clark pulled down his jock and grabbed a towel. A whistle came from behind him. “Jesus christ, man. You’re packing,” Dave beamed at him. “That’s nice of you but I gotta say you guys have got to be popular with all the ladies,” making a cheesy ‘hubba hubba’ gesture with one hand. Butch looked at Dave and doubled over into laughter, his soft monster cock flopping a little as he slowly got his chuckles under control. “He’s really a boy scout, ain’t he?” slapping Dave on his massive pec. All three men strode down the hall and went into the steam room. It was a smaller area, with a tile bench attached to the wall in an ‘L’ shape. Steam was flowing from the floor and the room was hot. Spreading a towel out to sit on, Clark sat down in the back area, facing the door. Dave and Butch sat on either side of him, kind of close. “Buddy, we’re popular with all types. Guys, gals, you name it. Ok, well not the animal kingdom, that’s a little too messed up.” Butch put a hand on Clarks knee and gave it a squeeze. “But dude, you’re extraordinary.” Dave put a hand on Clarks other leg. “You were kind of giving us ‘fuck me’ eyes out on the gym floor.” Butch leaned in and kissed Clark hard, forcing his tongue into his mouth, he wrapped on hand behind his head, pulling him in. For a second Clark tried to resist but Butch flexed his bicep in front of his face, pulled hard on his head and said “Kiss it!” His tone meant he was not to be denied. Clark realized he couldn’t move his head. Butch’s huge hand had the back of his neck and squeezed a warning, moving him closer to his huge arm. When he reached up to grab the arm with one hand to steady himself, Butch pulled his head away from his arm and spit into Clark’s mouth and then pulled his head up to his, kissing him, Butch’s probing tongue was playful, an intimacy Clark had never encountered. His cock swelled up rock hard and slapped his hairy abs. “Ohhhh” he moaned until Butch engulfed his mouth in his own again. At the same time, a mouth closed around his thick uncut cock. Every muscle in his body tensed and pleasure raced from the head of his cock up his spine. In the back of his mind he realized that if Dave kept his mouth on his cock for too long, he might kill him when he cums. He started to push Dave’s head away as Dave took him completely in his mouth. Clark was eight inches fully hard, thick as hell. This new sensation had his cock more swelled and throbbing than he thought was possible. Dave’s lips slid back up the full length to the tip of his foreskin, the suction was incredible. He slowly started again, pushing Clark’s foreskin down below his flaring head while taking the whole length into his mouth again. He could feel every movement of Dave’s tongue, every flexing of his throat muscles. He reached up to push Dave off his cock, he felt like he could explode at any moment. He started to panic, he was going to kill this god of a man. Dave grabbed the wrist of his arm on his side and pulled it over to his lap, where his soft cock started to thicken. “No, no, no, no,” muffled cries of ecstacy as Butch was kissing him. He tried to reach up again to push off Dave with his opposite arm and Butch grabbed that wrist, pulling his hand down to feel his massive, hard cock. He wrapped Clark’s hand around his girth, his hand wasn’t big enough to wrap around it but Butch’s was. He looked down from the massive neck, down the furry pecs that were striated beyond belief, down the eight pack, to the monster cock he now had in his hand. His face contorted into fear and pleasure, he whispered “Oh no!” and filled Dave’s mouth with ejaculate until it filled his mouth and kept going. “Dude, it’s ok. We have that effect on people a lot!” Butch grinned, standing up in front of Clark, his foot-long cock fully hard and inches away from Clark’s face, “now it’s your turn.” Panicked, Clark looked down at Dave expecting to see a dead man. Nope. Dave seemed to be eagerly cleaning up every bit of Clark’s load. Dave wasn’t dead. Clark’s orgasm didn’t kill him. ‘What the fuck?! You mean I could have been fucking this whole time?!?!’ A frustrated look of confusion must have crossed his face. *Wham!* *Wham!* Butch was using his cock like a battering ram, smacking the side of Clark’s head. He looked up and Butch gave an evil grin. “He doesn’t like it when you keep him waiting.” Clark took the huge cock in both hands and pulled the foreskin back, exposing a massive throbbing head shaped like a battering ram. Butch thrust his hips forward, pushing more of his cock between Clark’s hands. As he somehow fit the head in his mouth, he began to work his tongue and suction gently taking it slowly so his abilities wouldn’t hurt him. “C’mon man, I’m not made of glass” punching Clark in the side of the head with one large fist. “Open up, give me what you got.” Clark was seeing stars for a second. He felt that. In a big way. Slam! “Open. Up” and with an “Ahhhhhh” Butch’s cock was all the way down Clark’s throat. His eyes were bulging, unable to believe the size of it. Before he could recover, Butch pulled out fully with a ‘pop!’ and stepped up onto the tile bench. Dave indicated for him to get to his feet and Butch’s cock was face level with him and he reached up and grabbed it with both hands. He wanted to worship it, treat it like the rare thing it is. He looked up at Butch who had one hand on the ceiling, striking an almost Olympia style pose. *Wham!* *Wham!* Stars again “Don’t keep me waiting, kid, else you won’t be getting just a love tap.” Butch folded his arms over his chest and looked down at Clark. With no hesitation he took all of Butch in his mouth in one stroke, two strokes, all the way in and all the way out. With a shudder, Butch reached down and grabbed Clarks head in his hands and started slowly pumping. Reaching up to feel the abs, the furry chest, a pair of fingers started gently pulling, probing Clark’s ass checks from behind. Butch started speeding up the strokes in and out of his mouth and let out a low growl. At the same time, Clark tried to clinch his cheeks together. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this next step. Dave reached around and found Clark’s cock was rock hard again. Dave’s bicep flexed against his hip, and his other arm reached around and started pulling at Clark’s balls, gently massaging them. He flexed his bicep on the other side of Clark’s hip, holding him steady. Clark’s ass unclenched after a couple of strong strokes down his throat and Dave’s tongue found an opening in his ass. Diving into the warm, superhero muscle ass, his tongue reached the hole and began to gently, then harder, penetrate. Clark tried clenching it shut but between the massive cock using his mouth and throat like a piston , and Dave’s hard tongue firmly pressing into ass, and the strongest arms he can remember holding his hips, and huge hands squeezing his cock stroking it into unprecedented size…. Dave released him and stood up. Butch sat down on the bench, his behemoth laying against his hard abs and chest. Dave put his hands on Clark’s hips and guided him forward into Butch’s grasp. He reached up and grabbed the back of Clark’s neck and in one motion forced him down into his lap, his face resting between the erect cock standing up and the heavy balls laying across massive quads. “Mpphmph” as Butch grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Dave’s tongue disappeared and was replaced by the head of Dave’s massive cock resting on his back, just above his crack. A shudder went down his spine and Butch pushed his cock back into Clark’s mouth and again grabbed his head with both hands and began to pump his hips and use his hands to hold Clark’s head in position. Dave’s cock was generating so much heat and it was heavy laying on his ass. He began to pump his cock up and down along his crack, each time sliding a little lower until…. “Mapphphh!” Butch pulled Clarks head completely down on his cock at the same time Dave’s head popped into Clark’s hole. His eye started watering, bulging. Butch slowly returned to fucking his face. “Jesus, Dave I almost shot my load when he clinched, well, everything” “Dude, I’m not sure I can get it in any more. It’s so tight and it feels like there’s a wall.” Dave’s own identical battering ram shaped cock head sat just inside Clark’s hole, throbbing. *Wham!* *Wham!* *Wham!* Butch had released his right hand and immediately gave two punches to the side of Clark’s head and followed those up with a knee into his diaphragm. Making a choking sound, Clark almost went limp. He didn’t have strength to mount any resistance and Dave pushed a good five inches of his rod into his ass. Butch had hold of Clark’s head again, and with a “Yesss”, he pushed as deep as he could go into his throat. “Ahhh, that’s about six inches in, feels like you’re taking a beer-can I bet… ohhh yeah….that’s right squeeze a little tighter, just gonna make me harder…this ass HAS to be virgin… it’s soooo tight, feel me stroking in and out right now? You just took a couple more inches… Butch is he cryin’ yet? Don’t wanna hurt the big guy….ohh you’re grabbing my cock so tight, relax some… otherwise it’ll just be like a cock ring, swelling my beast up.. shit buddy, we’re getting close to finding the end of the tunnel…” Dave let out of low “yeeeeahhhhhhhhh” as he slid in the last, thickest part into Clark’s hole. He slapped Clark’s ass with one hand, sending a ripple across the dense muscle. Dave’s muscles in his lower abdomen pressed up firm against his ass checks, mashing them, making sure every bit of his cock was inside his hole. Clark felt like his insides were being split open. Dave’s cock was getting bigger inside him. He tried to relax and breathe but Butch had picked up the pace and was now forcing his own massive cock down Clark’s throat, intent on each stroke being more powerful than the last. His hands moved from the sides to the top and bottom of Clark’s head, yanking his jaw when he could. “Fuck man, every time you stroke he clenches, I ain’t gonna hold it for long!” Dave withdrew his cock in one stroke with a loud sigh from Clark, then stuck his face into Clark’s ass mashing the cheeks apart, sticking his tongue about an inch inside. Butch pulled his mammoth cock out of Clark’s mouth, looked at him and spit into his slack mouth. Tears had been streaming down his face and saliva was thick and drooling from his chin. “Hey Dave, I think he likes it” “We don’t want him broken, Butch, so let’s get a little creative.” The Colossus sized brothers stood and lifted Clark to his feet. Butch turned Clark to face Dave and suddenly put him in a full nelson. Clark tried to break free. Butch’s arms wrapped around the back of his neck and pushed his head down. His massive chest pushed into his back, his arms were pushed straight up, Butch was going to dislocate his shoulders! At the last second, Butch eased off. Clark was in a daze, he was being manhandled by two of the most powerful humans he’d ever met. “Hey kid, daydream on your own time!” Butch pulled him up, this time lifting him off the ground in the same full nelson hold. He could feel Butch’s cock burning against his ass, pulsing with that same slow heartbeat. Butch pulled his hips back and the monster slid down his ass until he could feel the thick tip find the spot underneath the ass and start pushing. Clark’s initial reaction was to resist, to hold his legs together. “Aw man, you’re gonna drive me nuts acting like you don’t want this,” and Butch pushed his cock through, under Clark’s balls. He could feel it throbbing between his legs, Butch was battering further until he felt Clark’s soft ass mash against his unstoppable muscle. Clark looked down when Dave did. Butch’s cock had pushed Kryptonian muscle apart like they were nothing. It was standing straight ahead, throbbing, powerful. Dave grinned and lined up Clark’s once impressive cock on top of Butch’s, pushing both balls to either side of the massive meat Clark was now riding. Butch leaned back some, raising Clark farther off the ground to where his back and legs were pressed against almost all of him. “You feel that, don’t you kid… I could probably hold you up with my monster just by itself, like you were sitting on one of the most powerful steel beams in the world… yeah, we ARE that strong… you’re just getting a little taste of it now…. are you going to be able to handle more?” His own proud cock was about to burst it was so hard. Dave put a hand around both Clark’s and Butch’s cocks, and then lay his cock over Clark’s. Butch began to pump behind him and he let him lean back into the unmoving wall of muscle. Dave’s monster really brought into contrast how much bigger they both were than Superman. In every way. His legs were swept up under each of Dave’s arm. He was now suspended against Butch behind and Dave up front. “Little help?” Dave grinned and made his cock jump. It slapped against the bottom of his ass once, twice, the third time it pressed against Clark’s hole. Butch felt some resistance and pushed down on his nelson hold when Dave nodded and in a swift motion pushed up with his hips and down on his arms, demolishing the once resistant hole, pushing all the way in. Clark’s resistance was shattered. His ass was on fire. Dave began stroking, ten, nine, eight inches to go, seven, six, at five inches he would flex his cock, swelling it up and smashing his way back in to the hilt. His insides were sore, Dave picked up the pace and his strokes got even longer. ‘Why is my invulnerability not protecting me?’ Clark had little time to figure it out. “Yeah buddy, yeah, still tight… think we got a virgin hole tonight Butch… you really need to get in on this…” Dave pumped faster and faster. Butch switched from holding Clark in a full nelson to slinging one of Clark’s arms around Butch’s neck and holding up Clark with one hand under his ass. He could feel Butch stroking his meat with his other arm underneath his back, smacking it against his spine. With a growl, Dave started pumping so fast Clark almost passed out. Clark opened his eyes and Dave roared, pushing in all the way. He was held here, spasm after spasm of Dave’s cock unleashed what felt like a flood in his insides. His orgasm lasted about 30 seconds, pulse after pulse, cum started pouring out around the hilt of still massively erect cock. Clark started flexing his ass as best he could and Dave jerked his head up to look at him in shock, “fuck man, it’s never going down if you keep doing that.” Butch wrapped a huge arm around Clark and with the other under his ass, lifted him off Dave’s cock. It felt to Clark like Dave would never slide out of him and when Butch lifted him up, he pulled him off Dave’s pipe with a pop and a flood of cum. “Bro, your cock is still leaking and you left all that inside him?” Dave grinned “and you thought his mouth was good…” Butch set Clark down on wobbly legs. He playfully slapped him in the face to bring him around. “Hey, no tapping out now buddy! Dave and I are into sharing!” Butch pulled Clark close to him, wrapping his arms around him. He started assaulting Clark’s mouth. “Fuck you are a good kisser!” Clark reached up and wrapped his arms around Butch’s neck. Butch pulled Clark’s body into him tighter. Every inch of Butch that pressed against Clark seemed like the hardest thing he’s ever felt. He pulled one hand around and started feeling Butch’s chest. With what seemed like little effort, Clark’s feet were again off the ground. Butch used his legs to pry Clark’s apart and with one hand still bearhugging him, he pulled one of Clark’s legs up toward his quad. Clark took the hint and moved the other leg so that Butch could lean back and get underneath his ass with his mammoth tool and still be able to keep one arm free. Clark was almost shaking in anticipation. As far as he could tell the brothers had identical cocks but with Butch kissing him, roughing him up, stretching his throat out, he felt like this was the main event of the night. He looked straight into Butch’s eyes and nodded. “Yeeeeah, let’s see what all the fuss is over this not-so-virgin hole. You ready for me muscle boy?” Dave stood behind him and lined up Butch’s cock against Clark’s asshole. Butch slowly started letting Clark slide down his body. “Fuck boy, your ass keeps pulsing against my cock like that and it’s never going to fit.” Butch adjusted his one arm bearhug to let Clark lean back out away from him and squatted down a little with his legs, spreading Clark’s legs out wider as well. With one swift motion, he jerked Clark down on his cock about three inches. His response was to try and climb Butch to pull himself off another massive tool that was invading his insides. “Hey Dave, check this out.” With one arm, Butch leaned Clark back, grabbing the cock that had been squashed between Clark and his muscle. With the other massive arm still supporting Clark’s lower back, Butch used Clark’s cock as push point, jerking it up and down. Clark began to groan and push at Butch’s hand. Feeling his ass pulsing, Butch slammed the rest of his herculean cock all the way home. “Yeeeaaaahhhh, Dave, I don’t think you stretched him out enough.” Clark’s first instinct was to try pushing himself up and to climb Butch’s massive form. Butch responded by using his free arm to reach under Clark’s ankle, pulling it up over his shoulder and spreading Clark’s ass even farther apart. “Grab my neck and hang on kid.” Leaning back so he was supporting most of Clark’s weight, changing the center of gravity had the effect of pressing Clark’s hole all the way to Butch’s steely pelvic bone. “Gimme that other leg,” flipping the other ankle up over the other shoulder. Clark was pressed hard up against Butch who was standing, leaning slightly back so he was supporting all of the weight. Clark’s arms were slung around his neck. Butch had both of his pythons locked around Clark’s lower back. Dave sat down and admired the sight, his cock standing at full attention once again, slowly jerking it up and down while he watched Butch long stroke his perfect cock in and out of the most perfect ass. “We are stretching that hole out tonight, aren’t we boy? You like taking massive muscle cock?” Clark looked scared but said “Yes sir”. Butch invaded Clarks mouth, biting his lip, fucking his mouth with his tongue as soon as he said “sir”. He was moving his cock in and out of Clark’s ass so fast it was burning. His hands moved down from his lower back to Clark’s ass. Each hand had a solid hold on each cheek, almost pulling at the muscle, deforming it with his grip. Clark let out a little yelp and Butch stopped stoking and left his cock fully inside again. “Did I hurt your ass?” He began massaging it while his monster cock’s pulse was slow and steady. Clark could feel almost every vein and he could feel the shape of the battering ram-type head deep in his gut. He realized that Butch had let go of him, that he was hanging off a mountain of muscle impaled on the most perfect cock he’d ever seen. He shook his head no and grinned. “Ohhh, being a little playful huh. I’ve been gentle so far but we can turn the dial up a couple of notches.” “Butch, hey, we don’t wanna break him on his first night,” Dave grinned at his brother. The whole time, Butch started slowly lifting Clark up off his cock and then lowering him back down. Foot long strokes. He was handling Clark’s massive 6’1” 225 pound body like he weighed nothing. Clark’s cock was being rubbed up and down the massive chest and washboard abs. The sensation was incredible, he could feel every ridge and valley. “I could fuck your hole all night… you thought you had a big dick but now you’re learning what big is… feel that stroke… my monster filling up your insides… I knew you could take it… yeah, love your hairy legs…” Butch rubbed his face over one of Clark’s calves. He stopped lifting Clark up vertically and, leaning forward, bent almost all the way over to switch to horizontal strokes so Clark was almost hanging off his neck. He started long stroking back and forth, each time pounding Clark’s hard cock against his massive body. “Every time I go all the way in your whole cunt spasms… can you feel me swellin’… soon it’s gonna be filling your insides with Butch’s cum… then you’re Butch’s bitch… oh that hole is getting tight, or is that me? Hehehe, yeah that’s all me. Dave may be big… But ain’t nobody is big as Butch!” With that his whole body flexed and Butch’s cock popped out and sprayed Clark and Dave with a massive amount of cum. Butch dropped Clark onto his feet so fast and pushed him to his knees it made Clark’s head spin. Still spurting cum, Butch forced open Clark’s jaws and slammed his cock home, Still thrusting his pelvis. “DRINK IT!” Butch yelled as it started pouring out of Clark’s mouth and nose. Butch pushed all the way in one last time with a “Fuck yeah!” Clark still felt the massive cock draining itself of cum. He did what he could until he was sure Butch’s beast was finished. When he let go of Clark’s jaw and pulled himself out of his mouth, he stroked it and smeared out what was left onto Clark’s face. “I just improved your looks tenfold” Dave and Butch broke out into laughter, and Clark did too after a few seconds, looking up at the massive brothers. “Here buddy, let me help you up, can you stand?” Dave lifted him up and set him on his feet. “Thanks, yeah, I’m ok” Clark’s ass was on fire but his mind was all over the place. What just happened? He was Superman. The strongest being on Earth. But these guys manhandled him like he was just some guy. What was the explanation? They hardly broke a sweat lifting or running. Their heartbeats were really slow but they seem to have a higher temperature than regular people, did they have a Meta gene? Most concerning of all is that he seemed to be no match in the strength department with these guys. He had been worried that any sexual activity Clark would engage in would result in harm or death for normal people. But there seemed to be no such danger with Butch and Dave. He didn’t sense any kryptonite around, no strange feeling when being subjected to magic, or red solar rays. He had to find out. “Fellas, it’s time to hit the showers” Butch signaled that he was done for the night, playfully popping Clark on the butt with the towel. “Get going kid” They turned on a few shower heads in the public shower and Clark realized he was covered with cum, inside and out. “Jeez, is that amount of cum normal for you guys?” Washing his big balls and cock Dave said, “We just got off this morning and you’re lucky we did” “I could fuck that hole again right this second, dude,” he gave Clark and intense look, “if we get pent up for too long, we start getting a little short with each other. We have to do it at least once a day. But hey, if you’re a twin you’re automatically a narcissist so getting off to yourself is more like masturbation. And if you look like us, we could have fuck toys lined up out the door waiting. But we’re a little too much, too strong for the common folk.” “That’s an understatement. How the hell did you guys get so strong? Steroids?” Clark probed “Yeah, we run cycles and it does help. You wanna try one? Get big like us?” Dave’s face lit up. “No one’s like us,” Butch’s body was gleaming from the shower and steam as he flexed into a double bicep. Clark could swear his arms looked even bigger. “No one,” Dave agreed hitting his own double bicep pose. Clark was definitely convinced both of them looked bigger. “Like I said, goals.” Clark lathered up and began to wash. Both muscle men came over and started helping him wash. Their massive hands ran all over his body, touching, squeezing his muscles. Clark started to get hard at their touch, feeling their unyielding bodies pressed against him while the water ran over them. Dave rubbed soap over his crack and lower back to scrub and Clark’s cock came to attention. Butch looked over at Dave and whistled, “he does have a nice one.” He grabbed it and started stroking it. Clark felt something hard against his ass. Dave and Butch stood in front of Clark as all three stroked their cocks. Clark put a hand on Butch’s chest, who flexed it and made it roll up and down. Butch still had Clark’s cock and was roughly stroking it. The brothers held their cocks out, comparing to each other. Butch pulled Clark closer to them and they compared Clark’s to theirs. It made their cocks surge, getting larger and larger. Laying Clark’s cock on top of theirs, Butch said, “I bet no one’s ever called you ‘lil guy’ before. You’re prolly in the only company that ever could.” Dave stroked his cock, shaking his head slowly. “Clark, pal, don’t take offense. No one except maybe Superman could even compare to us.” Butch laughed, stoking his own monster, “that guy probably fucks. He’s the only one I’d let take my ass. It takes a Superman to tame this muscle!” Releasing his cock, he turned and hit a rear double biceps pose. His back looked like muscle on mound of muscle. Clark shuddered, “oh fuuuck” and with that shot a load all over Butch’s naked backside. Butch spun back around and with a wicked gleam said, “Dave, I don’t think we’re done here just yet.” Before Dave could speak, Butch grabbed Clark by the arm, flipped him around facing the shower wall. He was stroking his bloated cock up and down across the crack of Clark’s ass and one massive arm pressing Clark face first against the wall. “I’m not sure you figured out your place, boy, but I’m going to remind you.” With that Butch once again sunk his blood surged cock to the hilt inside Clark. Pressed against the wall, his own cock hadn’t gone down from just cumming. Butch pushed down on Clark’s hip with the one hand, making his ass arch out. He started piston fucking Clark, placing his free hand around the back of his neck. “Oh you think I want your fucking cum all over me? You don’t know cum… I’m gonna pump you full, load # 3 today is gonna be a flood….feel my veiny muscle cock railing you? Feel that power… I got you with one hand… your leg press is what I curl… yeah, it’s almost there…” Butch kicked Clark’s legs farther apart, leaning more on Clark’s lower back to gain more momentum. “Yeah my little muscle bitch, Butch’s muscle bitch… we shoulda laid some ground rules… first rule is You ”<thrust> ”can’t” <thrust> ”compete” <thrust> ”with” <thrust> ”us!” <thrust> “….yeah, just gonna leave it parked in there for a minute… feel me flexing it, ripping your insides up… “ Butch reached around Clark’s narrow waist and seized his cock in a tight grasp. “fuck yourself on my dick… it's ok, you know you’re starting to crave it… I’m just going to hit a pose or two… don’t worry you ain’t budging me from this spot…” Clark started rocking back and forth on Butch’s cock, each pivot Butch’s hand squeezed Clark’s cock so that he was being fucked by Butch while fucking Butch’s hand. He let out an “ohh fuuuuck” as he quickly picked up the pace as Butch hit a double bi pose and locked it there. Clark was slamming against Butch but it was like fucking yourself on a horse cocked wall. Butch’s hand tightened his grip and he broke his pose to whisper in Clark’s ear “Here comes another muscle load,” and pushed Clark against the wall, mercilessly pounding his hole after releasing Clark’s cock. He was pushing him so hard against the wall, the tile started cracking. Pushing Clark’s head against the wall cracking the tiles in a head shape, Butch slammed him so hard Clark’s cock was smashed against the wall. “Yeaaahhhhh, fuuuuuck!” Butch held his cock deep inside and Clark was trapped between muscle he couldn’t comprehend and the cracking wall. With that final push he felt Butch’s cum start gushing into his insides. It sprayed out like a waterfall as Butch continued his primal grunts, his cock pulsing wave after wave of cum. His arm braced against Clark’s back he leaned in again and whispered, “that’s some real super muscles I got there… you love ‘em… especially the strongest <cock flex> muscle <cock flex> of all <cock flex>” Butch stood there still deep inside Clark, water trying to wash away the stream of cum that was still coming out of Clark’s ass. Butch’s cock was still hard, he could still feel a stream still emptying out inside his fuck toy. Clark realized he had blown another load when his Butch was grinding him against the wall, he hadn’t been touching himself, Butch had been hitting a spot like a human prostate except it was farther up inside a Kryptonian’s anatomy. Pushing himself away from the wall, Butch and Dave broke out into laughter. “Kid, you just survived getting smashed” Butch grinned and pointed to the outline shape of the broken tile. You could even see the spot where Clark’s cock was driven into the wall orgasmed. “Fuck it’s late, we need to get home and get some sleep,” Dave scratched his balls absently, signaling that tonight was over. It was pretty quiet as everyone finished cleaning and drying off. As they got dressed and started walking through the gym to the exit. Dave turned and got a little serious. “Did we scare you off buddy?” Dave put a hand on Clark’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. Clark winced at how hard the squeeze was. These guys definitely had to be supers. “No sirree bob. When’s more?” Clark said with as much Midwestern charm as possible. ‘I have to figure these guys out, the sooner the better,’ Clark thought to himself. “How about tomorrow night, same time,” Butch winked at him and smiled. “We’re doing a heavy chest workout if you think you can keep up. We don’t want to overdo it. Building these muscles takes a little time.” Grinning he pulled a bicep up and flexed it hard. “You do like these don’t cha, your mouth is open again…” and he laughed. Clark blushed again, twice in one night! “Can’t wait to be just as big!” Dave and Butch started towards the exit. By the time they got to the car they had huge smiles on their faces. “Do you think he’ll figure it out?” Dave looked out into the night sky “By the time he does it’ll be waaayyy too late.” Butch started laughing. The thought made his monster cock swell and he pulled at the jock to readjust.
  8. Supercrav

    Travaux pratiques [FR]

    Another silly short story in French. Bonne chance pour la traduire celle-là. Bonjour, je suis Hervé Faiblart, et j'ai aujourd'hui la chance incroyable d'être en présence d'un homme extraordinaire, un des plus grands, sinon le plus grand athlète que la France ait connu, il rafle depuis des années tous les plus grands titres mondiaux de bodybuilding grâce à son physique surhumain - je vous présente l'homme à la musculature la plus développée de tout l'Univers, le seul et unique Frank Lefort, qui a accepté de répondre à quelques questions. Tout d'abord bonjour Mr Lefort... Tu peux m'appeler Frank. Merci infiniment de m'accorder cette interview, c'est vraiment un immense honneur, alors que je ne suis qu'un petit étudiant en journalisme... Quand j'ai reçu votre réponse positive, j'ai bien failli m'évanouir. Héhé, il n'y a pas de quoi petit. Je n'arrive pas à croire que je suis assis là à côté de vous. C'est complètement fou. J'avais toujours rêvé de vous rencontrer un jour, mais en plus là, pouvoir vous parler, vous serrer la main... Je suis sous le choc. Voyez mon micro, je tremble comme une feuille. Détends-toi, je ne vais pas te manger. Qu'est-ce qui vous a amener à accepter mon invitation ? Déjà, ça me change de la presse spécialisée. Mais surtout, j'ai été très ému par ton message. Vraiment ? Oui, j'ai vraiment ressenti ta passion, ton désir de me rencontrer, de parler avec moi. De me connaître, même, au delà de ce que disent les magazines et les interviews uniquement portées sur le bodybuilding. Mr Lefort, j'ai vraiment le plus grand respect et une infinie admiration pour vous. C'est un tel privilège de vous avoir devant moi, je dois être le type le plus heureux du monde là tout de suite. Ah ? Pas trop déçu ? Oh que non, vous êtes encore plus hallucinant en vrai. Vous êtes tellement immense, et il y a une telle aura de puissance autour de vous, vous dégagez une telle énergie, vous rayonnez de prestance et de virilité, même votre...si je puis me permettre... même votre odeur est trrès forte mais envoûtante et apaisante. Wow. Tout ça ? Mais bien plus encore, il y a votre fantastique musculature surtout, dont le développement dépasse tout ce qui a pu être imaginé avant vous, la largeur de vos épaules est surréaliste, vos pectoraux projettent une masse incroyable par devant vous, et là, à quelques dizaines de centimètres de moi, la quantité hallucinante de biceps qui explose depuis la manche de votre t-shirt... Allez, reprends tes esprits, pose-moi tes questions. Bien. Mr Lefort, avec ce corps de Dieu absolu, et votre immense supériorité physique sur le reste de l'humanité, votre vie doit être un rêve absolu... Détrompe-toi. Au quotidien je fais l'objet d'énormément de mépris, beaucoup de gens ont un comportement hostile envers moi. Vraiment? Ils sont fous. Ils savent que je ne vais pas m'en prendre à eux du fait de ma phénoménale puissance. C'est beaucoup d'envie, de jalousie, de désir refoulé. Mais sexuellement, les femmes doivent se jeter à vos pieds... Ce n'est pas comme tu crois. Certaines, oui. Celles qui se jettent sur les bodybuilders n'ont en général aucune autre considération que le physique. Ce qui n'est pas un problème en phase d'attraction, mais la relation ne va jamais plus loin. Elles objectifient le bodybuilder, pour elles ce n'est qu'un objet de plaisir sexuel, elles refusent de le connaître plus avant ou même d'envisager qu'il puisse avoir un cerveau ou une personnalité. Vous... diriez que c'est dans la majorité des cas ? Non, dans la majorité des cas j'ai droit à un mépris absolu et manifeste. Souvent, à un point absolument ridicule. Et hypocrite. Comment cela ? Par exemple, il peut m'arriver d'entrer dans un bar ou un restaurant. Pour peu qu'un groupe de femmes soit réuni à une table ou autre, j'ai systématiquement droit à des ricanements entendus, des regards en coin, qui peuvent escalader en moqueries sonores, voire en confrontation si elles sont trop alcoolisées. Et vous restez stoïque dans ces cas-là? Oui je les ignore bien sûr. La raison principale pour laquelle les bodybuilders se font provoquer en public, que se soit par des hommes ou par des femmes, c'est qu'ils peuvent le faire en toute impunité. L’agresseur se sent investi de courage, cela passe même pour du courage aux yeux de la plupart de l'assistance, alors que le bodybuilder ne peut rétorquer. Du fait de sa supériorité physique. La moindre réaction défensive de la part du bodybuilder, ne serait-ce que verbale, passe immédiatement pour une violente attaque. Oh. Je crois comprendre. Dans ce cas mieux vaut laisser couler, oui. Ce qui passe facilement pour de la couardise, en même temps. Reste juste à espérer que les moqueurs se lassent, ou bien qu'ivres de puissance ils se ridiculisent au dernier degré, ce qui peut être pour le coup, bien agréable. Ca leur donne une bonne leçon. Penses-tu. Mais vous parliez... D'hypocrisie ? Je...? Ah oui, l'exemple du groupe de femmes qui se moque, par exemple si c'est dans un bar, il suffit que j'aille aux toilettes pour que j'en croise une au retour qui me glisse son numéro de téléphone. En fait je pensais à une fois en particulier, j'attendais un pote au comptoir, un groupe de nanas à une table se foutait de ma gueule, et la meneuse du groupe au moment du départ a trouvé une excuse pour laisser les autres partir devant et là elle s'est littéralement jeté à mes pieds et m'a supplié de la prendre. C'est de hypocrisie crasse. Je suis persuadé d'ailleurs que les plus démonstratifs sont les plus attirés, quasiment toujours. Vous croyez ? Oui, plus quelqu'un va en faire des tonnes pour clamer son dégoût du physique de bodybuilder, plus il y est attiré. C'est comme, c'est bien connu, les pires homophobes sont ceux qui assument le moins leurs désirs en ce sens. Vous dépeignez une sombre image de la gent féminine, mais vous avez tout de même dû faire de belles rencontres... Effectivement, il m'est arrivé, oui, de rencontrer de charmantes personnes, et que l'alchimie se produise, et que cela évolue en de belles histoires. Contre toute attente, parce qu'à chaque fois, ni moi ni elle n'aurait pensé que nous serions attirés l'un par l'autre. Aah. Alors vous êtes en couple actuellement? Tu vises une carrière à Voici on dirait. Je... Non oui je ne sais pas pourquoi j'ai demandé ça... Non, ces histoires là non jamais duré très longtemps. ... Le regard des autres. Leurs amies se moquaient d'elles, leurs familles ne m'acceptaient pas... Si je venais à une soirée entre collègues, son boulot devenait un enfer... .... Il y en a bien eu deux trois qui ont fait abstraction de tout ça, mais elles n'ont pas supporté mon mode de vie. Elles voulaient que je les fasse passer avant mon sport, mais pour moi ce n'était pas possible. De plus, elles avaient du mal à tolérer l'ampleur toujours grandissante de ma masse musculaire. Revenons au bodybuilding justement, c'est ce qui vous apporte cet équilibre, cette stabilité, sur le plan émotionel également ? Sur le plan émotionnel j'ai mes félures, comme tout le monde. Je ne vais pas aller me plaindre de ma situation, je peux tirer mon coup plus souvent qu'à mon tour. Certes mon physique hors normes me met à l'écart de la société par bien des égards mais c'est mon choix de vie, j'ai décidé de pousser mon hypertrophie musculaire à l’extrême, je savais bien que mon apparence modifierait le comportement des gens. Oui, on ne peut pas être indifférent en la présence d'un bodybuilder de votre envergure. Envergure, au propre comme au figuré. Mais il n'y a pas que des réactions négatives. En fait, c'est extrême dans un sens comme dans l'autre. Dites-moi. Certains réagissent de façon agressive et négative, mais d'un autre côté, il y en a qui apprécient et respectent les bodybuilders, et qui se plient en quatre pour me faire plaisir. Oh je les repère de loin, et le plus mes muscles sont devenus énormes, le plus c'était facile. Au restaurant, à l'hôtel, en club, à la plage, n'importe où, si j'en détecte un, que du bonheur. J'obtiens tout ce que je veux, et plus encore. Le Pacha. Vous profitez de la situation en gros ? Pas vraiment, ils désirent que je sois près d'eux, que je leur parle, que je leur sourie, ils sont aux anges, et ils font tout pour me plaire. Ils sont adorables. ... Il y a tellement de gens qui ont des réactions négatives envers moi, gratuitement, quand c'est l'inverse, je ne vais pas bouder mon plaisir. De bons gars, respectueux, sympathiques... Plutôt des hommes, donc. N'importe quel bodybuilder te le dira, plus tu amasses de la masse musculaire, moins tu attires les femmes, et plus tu attires les homosexuels. Et, vous êtes confortable avec cela ? Avec ceux-là ? Ma foi, au début pas tellement, ça fait bizarre. Mais, plus je me suis engagé dans ma passion pour le muscle, plus je subissais du rejet et des réactions négatives, alors quand on te balance de l'amour en pleine gueule... Ca a fait partie de mon équilibre, à force. Et je suis pas gay du tout, mais un jour je me suis laissé tenter, les couilles pleines quoi, et putain le kif. Vous y avez pris du plaisir donc. Et c'est top. Les pédés ils sont pas prise de tête, ils ne vont pas essayer de t'accaparer, ils n'ont pas honte de s'afficher avec toi bien au contraire, si j'n rappelle un il est content si je le rappelle pas il ne vas pas me faire chier. Tu vois, depuis à peu près deux ans, je ne m'emmerde plus, si j'ai envie de baiser je claque des doigts et je me fais soulager. Etes-vous devenu gay alors ? Je ne sais pas, c'est possible. Il n'y a pas longtemps je t'aurais dit non, mais maintenant... Il y en a que je rappelle, que je kiffe bien, et puis si je suis en soirée ou quoi, et en chasse, je dois admettre que je vais plutôt aller vers un gars bien motivé qu'une chatte. Et puis, c'est marrant de les faire devenir tout serré dans le pantalon. Vous en parlez avec beaucoup de franchise, merci. Je n'ai rien à cacher. Mais je me dis, tout de même, ça ne doit pas être si facile pour vous de trouver un partenaire à la hauteur. A la hauteur de... quoi ? Et bien, vous avez infligé à votre corps un tel niveau d'exigence et d'excellence dans l'amour du muscle, qu'il doit vous être difficile de trouver un partenaire dont le physique soit à la hauteur de vos attentes. Oh minute papillon, tu crois quoi, que le corps du gars va m'exciter ? Malheureux. Oui le muscle est beau le muscle est sublime, mais si je veux du muscle j'ai meilleur temps de me branler devant la glace. Ou bien tu crois que je veux me mettre en couple avec un autre bodybuilder ? Alors, comme chacun sait il n'y a qu'une proportion extrêmement faible de bodybuilders présentant des tendances homosexuelles, mais logiquement ils ne sont attirés que par leurs semblables. Tu n'as rien compris. Je m'aime MOI. Je ne suis pas malheureux en amour, je m'aime MOI et c'est pour ça que je ne suis pas en couple. Ce que je cherche chez l'autre c'est l'amour de moi. Sortir avec un bodybuilder ? Pas question, les règles c'est moi qui les pose, les caprices c'est moi qui les fais, le centre du monde c'est MOI. Ce que j'aime c'est un adorateur docile, un petit gars passionné, fragile, fou d’admiration pour MOI. Vraiment ? Ca c'est fou... Petit gars, je sais bien que tu m'adores, ton message dégoulinait d'amour, quand je t'ai vu arriver je n'ai pas été déçu, je suis ton DIEU absolu, tes yeux hurlent de jouissance, tu essaies tant bien que mal de cacher l'érection qui a détruit ta braguette, ton sexe mouille si fort que ton jean est trempé jusqu'au genou, je vais te prendre mon petit gars, je vais te predre mais tu vas devoir hurler ma gloire et ma beauté de toutes tes forces, supplie-moi de sortir mon chibre, supplie-moi de l'enfoncer en toi avec la surpuissance de mes gros muscles
  9. Chapter One "Oh, mon cher, your size, strength and power, how is it that your father made you the man you are today?" "Whilst it is true that my father gave me the strength you are enjoying, my mother gave me the endurance to carry it on forever and a day, mon cher!" "Then, please, I beg you, mon cher, let me test that resilience, that raw unbridled power" "As it is almost the festival celebrating the mass of the Christ child, I shall mon cher!" With that Porthos got up from the bed where he and Henri had been engaged in a combination of play wrestling and mutual worship and now standing at the end of the bed, he took a deep breath, flared out his back and looked at his husband. "Hold that mighty breath" moaned Henri, spreadeagled on the bed totally naked like his husband, "then come onto me and do unto me as I have done unto you so many times before!" Porthos winked and as Henri raised his hands above his chest, Porthos fell forwards so that Henri was holding the Titan's powerful chest, and the Titan's manhood was touching his husband's hole. Gently lowering Porthos onto him, Henri gasped as he felt Porthos enter him and moaned "We shall excite each other, mon cher" and within moments, Henri was manhandling Porthos's mighty pecs and huffing and puffing as he felt Porthos's manhood slowly, but surely, go deeper inside him. "What a good idea" panted Henri, as he squeezed his husband's chest, "that we made sure we decided to spend the festival of the mass of the Christ child in that old abandoned hut in the middle of the Bois de Boulogne" and as Porthos raised an eyebrow as if to ask "Why, mon cher?", Henri replied "So I can do this!" and with that screamed in ecstasy as he felt Porthos reach his prostate. As he did, Henri reached underneath the bed and revealing his sword panted "It is the festival of the mass of the Christ child after all?" and a moment later, the Ultimate Musketeer was being rammed to within an inch of his life by the Ultimate Titan, both men's faces as red as they could be, with Henri's grunts matched by Porthos's slaps against his husband's bare skin. Despite his best efforts, Henri knew when he had reached his limits and with a mighty scream of "FOR HIS MAJESTY" he split his seed and then exacted his revenge on his lover as he twisted Porthos's nipples in opposite directions at the same time causing the man mountain to throw his head back and, having taken a massive intake of breath, scream "AND THE CAPTAIN" with such force that he blew a hole in the roof before collapsing onto his husband. Panting and moaning from the after effects of the double spillage, they were just about to kiss when from outside came an almighty crash followed by the sound of trees crashing to the ground. Instantly the two husbands became the heroes they were and within a minute, now dressed in their shining breastplates showing off their powerful heaving chests gazed upon a scene of carnage. "A carriage" declared Henri, pointing to some wreckage in the trees, "a carriage must have fallen off the king's road" and with that the two heroes went to work. Thankfully, the carriage, unlike any they had seen before, had managed to remain intact, save a light at one corner that was now bent at a jaunty angle, and as they found the driver, a man with flowing white locks, a white beard almost to his chest, a rosy cheeked face and looking supringsly young for a man with such a beard, none the worse for wear. "Monsieur" declared Henri, "are you alright?" The man looked around and replied with something that made both men freeze in horror. "Yes, Henry, I think I am alright. Yes, no bones broken, I think. Tell me though, since when did you and Issac start wearing next to nothing? I thought that you were an English gentleman and Issac was a member of the nobility?"
  10. Hola, esta es mi primer historia aquí; me inspiré en un video que vi en YouTube; así que si hay similitudes es por eso. También quisiera aportar algo a la comunidad en español que adoran los músculos y el muscle growth. Capítulo uno Un día viernes, finales de primavera e inicio de verano. Yo soy Henrry un científico que se dedica a desarrollar nuevas formas de crecimiento en seres vivos, aunque solo se pueda probar en plantas. Vivo en los suburbios con mi novio, Ben; él es un maestro de parvulario, le encanta cocinar y comer pastelillos, y sí, es obeso. Mi cuerpo es uno más saludable que el de él, soy más alto y soy el activo de la relación; él es un poco más bajo y más gordo que yo, pero aún así lo amo, es mi osito Teddie y el es muy tierno conmigo y todos los niños lo aman, lo conocen como el profesor Teddie o profesor osito, muy tierno la verdad. Ben siempre intenta hacerme feliz cocinando ricas comidas; aunque a veces suelen pasarse un poco de calorías; es por eso que el tiene "un poco" de sobrepeso, yo en cambio tengo un buen cuerpo, delgado y de 1.77, cuido mi dieta un poco más y como menos que él ya que no tendría el corazón para despreciar su comida. En serio lo amo; pero hay algo que me hace querer cambiar; él se estaba poniendo un poco más obeso, lo cuál era normal con su dieta; pero vi un video sobre un muchacho que se veía como Ben y terminó viéndose como una morsa gracias a que nunca cambió su dieta e incluso no podía levantarse de su cama, tenía miedo de que esto le pasara a mi osito, además veía cómo las parejas solían salir a ejercitarse y tenían cuerpos saludables, realmente quería que Ben y yo hiciéramos eso; además que se acercaba la reunión de ex alumnos de preparatoria y varios de mis ex novios y amigos estarán allí y aunque lo ame, muchas personas hablarán de su físico... Ese mismo día en la noche decidí preguntarle si podría dejar de poner demasiadas especias y hacer otra cosa diferente para comer. -Oye, amor. ¿Qué te parece si haces otra cosa que comer? Hemos comido mucho filete y ya estoy aburrido. -Eh? Pero ya casi está todo listo... *decía con su dulce voz* -Sí, pero no sé quiero probar algo diferente a lo que cocinas... -¿No te gusta mi comida? *preguntaba decepcionadamente* -Sí, me gusta pero no sé, quizá algo un poco más saludable, quizá. -Pues... Es que ya preparé todo y no sé qué hacer... -Agh, sabes qué? Vamos a comer (No podía decirle que no, es tan tierno y fue mi culpa por no haberle dicho antes; aunque en el fondo no me sentía a gusto ya que sólo hacía que comiera menos sano) -¡Está bien, a comer! Lo hice con mucho cariño para ti, como todas mis comidas la verdad, já. -Sí, jejé... Decidimos ir a ver televisión un rato, estábamos abrazados y justo pasaron un comercial sobre un gimnasio nuevo. -Oye, mira un gimnasio, ¿interesante, no? -Sí, si tú lo dices... -Vaya, mira sus cuerpos delgados y tonificados, es impresionante. -Hmmp... -Ah, y mira como se divierten usando las máquinas, ¡eso si que es una vida en movimiento! El comercial terminó y Ben me veía un poco descorcentado y decepcionado al mismo tiempo. -Oye, una pregunta... ¿Te gustan más ellos que yo? -Qué? N-no... Solo me parecía interesante. -Pero decías lo bien que se veían y yo pienso que quizás a ti no te gusta como soy... -No, para nada, solo me parecía interesante como eran capaces para moverse así y tener la energía para eso; tú eres perfecto así como estás, eres lo mejor que me ha pasado en la vida, así con tus muchos kilos...estás...bien... -En serio? G-gracias, te amo Henrry. Toma, te compré un pastelillo, es de mi pastelería favorita, fui a comer hoy allí. -Gracias... Así que fuiste allí otra vez, eh? -Sí, me encantan sus pasteles. -He de admitir que también a mi, pero me gustan muchos más los que haces tú. -Ah, sí. Toma, tu pastelillo que te hice esta tarde, olvidé que también te hice uno. -¡Gracias! La verdad no puedo resistirme a sus pastelillos, son tan deliciosos y siempre me recibe con uno y un regalo demás, en serio se nota que me ama, y aunque todos los días me coma un pastelillo, siempre bajo esas calorías cuando corro en las mañanas; hablando de correr; sí, he intentado que se una a mi pero no quiere ir, le da un poco de vergüenza ya que se cansaría más rápido que yo, y no puedo obligarlo... El siguiente día, un nuevo científico llega a la ciudad y se une a los laboratorios donde yo trabajo. Él era conocido por haber hecho investigaciones sobre los cambios del cuerpo humano y sus diferentes tipos, él tenía un cuerpo parecido al mío, solo que con 2cm menos de estatura. Me acerqué a él para saludarlo ya que su trabajo me parecía muy interesante. -Hola, Dr. Magnus, quiero decirle que amo su trabajo e investigaciones. -Hola, tú debes ser el Dr. Henrry, he oído mucho de ti, creo que tú trabajo será muy útil para lo que tengo en mente. -¡Vaya! Eso es genial, estaré dispuesto a lo que sea, con tal de trabajar con usted. -Me alegro mucho. Ven a mi laboratorio luego de la reunión de bienvenida por favor. -Ahí estaré. -Ah! Y por favor no le digas a nadie que te cité. Estaba emocionado, esto podría darme un gran reconocimiento. Me pregunto qué querrá hablar conmigo... Llegué lo más rápido que pude al nuevo laboratorio del Dr. Magnus, era un laboratorio enorme y tenía un gran tanque de agua, enorme en realidad, al parecer él lo había mandado a hacer; quizá haría experimentaciones con el agua y eso. -Ya estoy aquí Dr. -Muy bien, es hora de que hablemos de un proyecto que tengo en mente; pero primero que nada he de decir que he leído tu trabajo y me alegra que hayas tenido buenos resultados. -¡Sí, muchas gracias! Estuve trabajando como loco, aunque es una pena que solo funcione en plantas, esto beneficiará mucho al mundo, espero probar esto en otros seres vivos como peces u otros animales para saciar la producción de comida en el mundo. Para el que no sepa, mi trabajo fue sobre el crecimiento acelerado de plantas y su beneficio para la agricultura; fue exitoso y me parece genial que le haya gustado al Dr. Magnus. -Sí Henrry, espero que funcione en animales; pero ¿y en humanos? -Podría también, pero eso es arriesgarse mucho. -Pues para eso estoy yo, y es por eso que te he traído hasta acá para que trabajemos juntos en esto. -¿y qué es? -Pues verás, existen diferentes tipos de cuerpos humanos; pero ¿Qué tal si todos tuvieran un cuerpo delgado? Sería beneficioso para evitar los casos de diabetes, hipertensión, etc. -A qué se refiere? -Me refiero a que con tu método de aceleración de crecimiento, ¡podríamos acelerar la pérdida de peso en muchos seres humanos! -Vaya... Eso suena realmente bien. -¡Sí! Pero el problema es que no me dieron el permiso de llevarlo a cabo, ya que no les parece bien experimentar en humanos y blah blah blah. Por eso quiero que no le digas a nadie, ser nuestro secreto... -¡Pero eso sería ilegal y para nada ético!.. No lo sé. -A ver, tu experimento fue un éxito y yo he investigado mucho y me he preparado para esto durante toda mi vida; creo que seriamos capaces de llevarlo a cabo y ser exitosos. Además te pagaría muy bien, eh. -Mmm... -Vamos, ¿no quieres arriesgarte y salir victorioso? O prefieres estar conforme y no volver a tener otro éxito... Recuerda que yo pondré la cara por este experimento si algo sale mal, aunque lo dudo mucho; cómo dije me he leído y probado tus experimentos y he estudiado mucho, esto sería el experimento del siglo. -Yo... mmm... Acepto.... -¡Eso es! Me alegra que aceptaras, verás que no te decepcionaré. -Eso espero. Veía como el Dr. Magnus sonreía confiado, la verdad me hacía sentir un poco mejor, es decir, por algo es uno de los científicos más exitosos del siglo. Llegué a casa a las 2:00pm, Ben ya se encontraba dentro ya que hoy no trabajaba. -Hola... -¡Hola!... ¿Estás bien? Te noto algo triste. -No, solo estoy pensativo... Es algo de un experimento importante en los laboratorios y tengo que trabajar mucho. -Oh, bueno, espero que te vaya bien *Se dirijió y dio un beso a Henrry* Te compré algo, espero que te anime. *saca una camiseta para Henrry* Recuerdo que me dijiste que te gustó una camisa y te la compré. -¡Vaya! Gracias amor. *Le da un beso en la frente a Ben* eres el mejor... Eres tan tierno y dulce... -Gracias, jé... Me compré una yo también, aunque me queda algo apretada...y eso que es grande... -Que lindo, jé (Recuerdo que el Dr. Magnus dijo que este experimento volverá a las personas obesas delgadas y les quitara muchos problemas de encima, quisiera ayudar a Ben, en serio...) Oye, ¿tienes tiempo para salir esta noche? -Sip, ¿vamos a salir a comer? O ¿a dónde? -Te gustaría ir al laboratorio conmigo? Me gustaría que fueras, es algo importante... -¿Hay algo importante? Sí es así voy, no quiero decepcionarte... -No, no es demasiado importante, solo quiero que me ayudes con algo, eso es todo. -Pero yo no sé sobre ciencia y eso, no sé en qué podría ayudar... -No te preocupes, irás para ver algo impresionante que he preparado, será fantástico. -E-está bien, iré para ver, me pregunto que será, aunque seguro que es impresionante como todo lo demás que hace *Se dirije a darle un abrazo a Henrry* sabes que te apoyaré en todo. -Gracias, eres muy especial para mi, te amo... (no sé si deba, pero es por su bien) Me dirijí hacia mi habitación para llamar al Dr. Magnus. -Hola? Dr. Magnus creo que tengo al candidato indicado para este experimento. -En serio!? Genial! ¿Quién es? ¿Podrías enviarme una foto? -Es mi novio Ben, es un chico obeso y es perfecto para el experimento... (En serio iba a hacerle esto?) -Vaya, si que es lindo pero veo que lleva un camino hacia la obesidad mórbida, uyuyuy. -En serio!? Usted cree? -La verdad sí, pero no te preocupes, con este experimento todos sus problemas se acabarán y estarás feliz con tu novio, quien sabe quizá hasta sea favorable para cuando realizas relaciones sexuales con él. -La verdad, es un poco difícil tener relaciones sexuales con Ben, no lo puedo levantar al momento de penetración, no siquiera puedo probar muchas otras posiciones ya que suele cansarse rápido por su peso, y hay tanto que quisiera probar... -(Por qué me dice eso?) Sí, es una pena; ya verás que con esto tendrás relaciones como si estuvieras en una escena porno con el mejor pasivo del mundo, jé... -Sí, no puedo esperar y verlo más saludable y más lindo de lo que ya es. -Yo sé que no Henrry, así que te espero a ti y a tu compañero para el experimento. -Ahí estaré. Adiós. -(Agh, realmente espero que salga bien... Hablar de porno me calentó demasiado, pensando en como disfrutaré con mi nuevo Ben, pequeño y delgado, siendo un power botton total... Pero no es tiempo para dejarse ir, tengo que preparar las cosas) Llego el momento esperado, me llevé a Ben a los laboratorios, en su mirada podía ver lo intrigado que estaba, y lo inocente que era; lo que iba a hacer va a cambiar su vida por completo, pero seguro que le hará bien y puede que su autoestima mejore un poco. Entramos al laboratorio lo más rápido y naturalmente que pudimos, dejé a Henrry fuera de el para que esperara a que prepare el experimento. -Hola Dr. El candidato está afuera esperando, hay que preparar las cosas. -Estupendo, todo está saliendo cómo debería *decía mientras veía a Ben sentado afuera por medio de la ventana* Se ve que necesita tu ayuda, a simple vista puedo decir que tiene una baja autoestima y es muy tímido, esto le ayudará a sentirse mejor. -Sí, la verdad se siente un poco incómodo con su cuerpo; cuando iba a la universidad algunos chicos se burlaban de él y aunque no era nada grave lo hacían sentir mal... Pero usted como sabe que tiene una baja autoestima? -A parte de científico también soy Psicólogo y se mucho sobre las personas con solo ver su comportamiento. -Oh, tiene sentido... ¿Y qué hacemos primero? -¿Trajiste todas tus sustancias? -Sí, incluso las que no usaremos, já, como la de crecimiento muscular y testosterona, y la de crecimiento de estatura. *Dice mientras las muestra y las pone sin percatarse en el escritorio de el doctor* -Perfecto, dame las que aceleran el cambio corporal y las que ayudan a quemar grasa. -Tome *Da las sustancias pedidas a el doctor* (Vaya, si que quiero ir al bañó, debería haber ido hace rato) -Okey, primero vierto las que yo traje a este enorme tanque, y luego las tuyas. *Dice mientras vierte sus propias sustancias para acelerar el metabolismo y el maximizador vitaminico, que brinda las vitaminas necesarias al cuerpo humano* -Mmng.... Por favor.... Tengo que ir al baño, Agh. *Dice mientras da varios saltitos* -JAJA, bien ve. Yo estaré aquí. -Gracias. *Sale corriendo hacia el baño* -Muy bien, vamos a verter las sustancias del Dr. Henry y listo.... *Ay, olvidé conectar la manguera para llenar el tanque con agua, lo saldré para que pase por la ventana y llegue hasta acá. -Uff, ya estoy aquí Dr. Magnus... Hmm parece que salió... Oh, no ha vertido las demás sustancias aún *Dice mientras observa las sustancias que se encontraban en la mesa y sin saberlo puso ahí* muy bien, las verteré yo y nos ahorramos tiempo. *Vertió las sustancias completamente y tiró los tubos a la basura* Oh, parece que el profesor está intentando meter la manguera por la ventana, le iré a ayudar. -Gracias Henrry, solo llenamos el tanque y terminamos. -De nada, al parecer esto tardará un poco... -Sí, hay que distraernos mientras se llena, calculo que será media hora para que lo haga por completo... Y bien? ¿Qué le dijiste al paciente? -No le he dicho para que venía, le dije que quería que viera algo conmigo, no creo que le guste que le diga que vengo a cambiar su cuerpo, además le dije ayer que él era perfecto, soy un mal novio... -Bueno, esto lo haces por su bien, así que no pasa nada. Además, imagínate el buen sexo que tendrías si Ben fuer delgado como esos que salen en los videos porno, haciendo diferente pocisiones más atrevidas y ser más flexible para abrirse; también podrías cargarlo y darle todo lo que tienes ahí abajo... Oír esas palabras hacían que mi verga se pusiera muy dura, estoy seguro que después de esto iré a probar el nuevo cuerpo de Ben y sé que me encantará; verlo pequeño, delgado y sano me hace muy feliz. No tendría que preocuparse por su obesidad y sus camisas le quedarían bien. -S-sí, no puedo esperar para ver al Nuevo Ben, Dr. Magnus. -Yo tampoco; además esto hará que tenga más confianza en sí mismo y estoy seguro que eso te hará feliz. -Sí, el merece ser feliz, es muy tierno y amable pero eso hace que muchas personas quieran aprovecharse de él, pero yo lo protegeré de eso, después de todo es y será mi pequeño osito, solo que más delgado. -Oh, mira el tanque ya se llenó. Trae a el candidato por favor. -Voy *Se dirijió a traer a Ben* Oye Ben, ya está todo listo entra. Ben yacía dormido con sus brazos cruzados encima de su barriga que estaba a punto de desaparecer, aunque él no lo sabía. Y aquí termina el primer capítulo, para no hacerlo tan largo, el segundo capítulo saldrá pronto, esperenlo y lo siento si cometo muchos errores o si voy muy lento, no soy muy bueno escribiendo; pero espero que les haya gustado.
  11. pasidious

    Jolias Finally Lets Go

    No one within the following narrative is below the age of 18. Jolias is a character owned by another person, @MadMutter, and is being used here with permission (admittedly late). There is no muscle-growth within this first section, but there will be a build-up. And it will happen. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The first time I laid eyes upon him, my whole world came to a screeching halt. ...Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But who doesn't use a bit of poetic license when they describe a guy they not only find beautiful, but insanely hot? He was in my American History class during my first ever semester of college. That first day. And it was the night class, too. Only held once a week, but lasted almost three hours long. I'd already had one day of classes, Monday, and then Tuesday my schedule weirdly only had a single class. That one night class. It was weird walking to a classroom building at 5:45pm. I was already on a form of auto-pilot, just letting my legs guide me to my next scheduled college activity so I could get it over with. I remember entering the room and the professor was overly enthusiastic about greeting each student as we walked in. He didn't even look like a professor, either. Relatively young guy who wore casual clothes like he was just going on a trip to the supermarket. Which, honestly, helped me stay relaxed about what to expect. I usually expect professors to be stiff and boring and strict. But, the professor greeted me and handed me a syllabus personally, and I did a brief glance at it as I allowed my legs to continue to guide me to a seat in the back of the room. But then I had to stop and realize the amount of us in the class seemed kind of small, and I'd definitely be the very odd one out if I chose a seat in the back while everyone else was several seats in front of me. And the professor would surely ask me to sit closer anyway. So I did a bit of a half-spin and selected a seat close to where I was already standing. I dropped my satchel on the floor. Gently, of course, and took the seat. Now, being a bit of an introvert, I always try to avoid making any type of eye-contact with others when in a new environment. So, up until this point, I hadn't even actually looked at a single other student in the room. I knew they were there through periphery, but I wasn't actually paying any real attention to them. Until now. I had my new syllabus on top of my desk, and I was about to get my still clean notebook out of my satchel to prepare for the class when I caught a glimpse of the dude who was sitting right next to me. I sort of did one of those double-take things. Like, I looked at him, then back down at where I needed my hands to go, and then my heart thudded in my chest and my eyes immediately went back to where they'd briefly landed before. He was just... casually sitting in his seat. His notebook was already on his desk, and he was fiddling with the pen in his right hand, letting it flip between his fingers. His eyes were looking forward, and it was clear he was just zoned out, waiting for the beginning of the class. He was wearing a light hoodie that zipped all the way up and down, and he didn't have it zipped at all. And his T-shirt was orange, a stark but aesthetic contrast with his dark green hoodie. His complexion was dark, and I could see he had these cute freckles on his face beneath his eyes. His uniquely red eyes. Those were what really drew my attention. Red eyes. I felt my heart thudding in my chest as I looked him over. He had a small nose that fit his face perfectly, and his hair was this shaggy, long-ish dark brown that somewhat covered his ears. And he had on these amazing light blue jeans that were perfectly clinging to his legs, showing off the contours of them without being ridiculously tight. He was beautiful. And sexy. Hot. And it was like... imagine having a TV screen that gets cracked into a thousand little lines all over it, except for one single spot that's still intact and clear. That was my new vision. And he was the only thing in that one clear spot. But then the entire screen shattered when... "'Sup dude?" Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. My attention had been on him for so long he understandably noticed the weirdo next to him staring at him. I immediately diverted my attention elsewhere, anywhere, and uttered a swift "Hey." I heard him chuckle as I shuffled through my satchel to finally get my notebook out. But that was it. He didn't say anything else. The class began and we went through the usual first day things. Of course, it went well beyond that, since this one class was the equivalent of three regular classes. But the entire time, throughout the professor's lecturing and assigning of work, I couldn't help but steal glances at the dude next to me. He diligently took notes and would sometimes doodle in his notebook. He definitely had this smoldering quality. A certain type of heat resonating from his sexiness. And I just so badly wanted my hands, my lips all over his body. His presence alone, knowing that this beautiful guy was next to me was so enrapturing that I hadn't even noticed that I was painfully hard. And I mean painfully. My average sized cock was so hard and pressed against the confines of my pants that it had begun to hurt. The throbbing had reached a point that I could no longer ignore it, and it sent jolts up my body that I finally had to notice. I imagined him coming to my dorm. Entering through the door and shutting it swiftly behind him. Walking confidently in, almost strutting, smirking at me as I lay in my bed, and elegantly in one cool move pulling his shirt over his head and revealing a sexy body underneath, tight pecs and abs and toned arms, tossing his shirt to the side like it's just garbage, and pouncing on me. We become interlocked with each other, our hands exploring each other's bodies, kissing everywhere, and every so often locking lips, running our hands through each other's hair. And before long our pants are off, our hard throbbing cocks rubbing together as we press ourselves into one another, wanting so badly to become one. He presses down on my shoulders, pushing himself up, his tight pecs clenching together, and he simply smirks at me, his blazingly hot and simultaneously cute face making me quiver, and he reaches back and lifts my legs up, positioning himself to enter my hole. I close my eyes, his throbbing rod, eight inches of hard, pure sex about to plunge into my ass where it belongs. And as soon as his tip makes contact... "Yo!" I'm startled out of my little daydream, immediately and first noticing my crotch feels wet and my cock is still painfully hard. But then I notice eyes on me, and the professor himself is the one who called out to get my attention. I'd been leaking pre so profusely I felt like I'd actually blown my load. "You okay there, bud?" I was shaken, to say the least, but also embarrassed that I'd allowed myself to become so entrenched in my own daydream that I'd forgotten I was even in a class. And the object of my fantasy was still sitting right beside me, his eyes also upon me, and I could see through my peripheral vision that he had a seemingly amused look on his face. So embarrassing. I wanted to just disappear. Not just die, but to cease from existing. "Uhhh..." I managed to get out, frantically searching in my brain for some sort of plausible explanation for my zoning out. But the professor saved me from myself. "I know this is boring, but we're almost done. Try 'n' get some more rest for next class, yeah?" he said, a kind smile on his face but a sternness in his voice. And then he glanced around the entire room and spoke further on the matter, "I know it's an unusual time for a class and for probably all of you the first time you've ever had such a late class. Be prepared and rested!" And then he continued with his lecturing. Still embarrassed, I sat there, focusing on the front of the room and listening to the professor speak. I didn't even want to acknowledge the godly presence next to me, but my still hard, throbbing, and now wet dick was a stark reminder. And I noticed he kept glancing at me every few minutes. I still wanted to disappear. If there was even a small chance he was gay, there was an even lesser chance he'd ever be into me now. I imagined I'd have greater luck being struck by lightning twice in the same day while winning the lottery. But my cock just never calmed down. *** "Yo dude, wait up." I was attempting to scurry away and back to my dorm before I got caught in any conversation with literally anyone from that class which might potentially involve the topic of my weird escape from reality. I had to tie my hoodie around my waist to hide the blatantly obvious wet spot that had formed. And it was hard to do while still sitting down since the desk itself was still obscuring the sight of it. I heard the voice calling to me, but I desperately hoped it was directed at someone else. I had no intention of talking to anyone. But then I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I was so close to exiting the building. So who the hell wanted to chat? Well, of course it was none other than the very object of my fantasy. The one guy who'd ever sent me into such a horny torrent of imagination in my entire life to this point. My heart was rapidly sinking and I once again wanted to disappear as though I never even existed. He grasped my shoulder and actually had to spin me a little since my subconscious was forcing me to pretend I heard and felt nothing. But when I was forced to face him, I was no longer within reach of an escape option. "You alright, man?" he asked, looking into my face with what appeared to be genuine concern. "Uhh, yeah... thanks," I muttered. I wasn't at all sure of how to even respond properly to make him go away. "You don't seem like it, though. I've seen daydreaming before, but you were almost like... in a coma or something." 'Oh if you only knew what I was daydreaming about,' I thought to myself. But then my heart thudded in my chest when I realized he knew I was daydreaming and not simply zoned out. What else did he notice?! I tried to play it cool. "You're perceptive as hell, man. How'd you know I was daydreaming?" I tried to smile. "Just the look on your face. Your expression kept changing." But then he smirked. "And, uh, it was hard to ignore the tent you were pitchin'." FUCK. So he noticed that. But... he was looking. At my crotch. Which means... might he be gay? "Just... horny is all," I tried to coolly say. "Been a while, know what I mean?" "Yeah, sure..." he muttered, still grinning a little. We then stood there in an awkward silence, and I began searching for a way to end the interaction so I could get back to my dorm and take care of... business. My cock was still hard as a lead pipe. But then he spoke. And I was completely shocked by what he said. "Wanna get a bite?" I almost had to shake myself from the disbelief. I know, I know... I'm being dramatic. People get food together all the time. But with him?! Why would he want to get food with me? "Err, uh..." "Dude, come on, you gotta be hungry. That class took forever." "I guess," I unenthusiastically replied, and realized I'd better change my tone. This dude is hot. And super cool, at least so far. And the first person to reach out in any way that indicated an attempt at friendship since I've been at this school. Which, admittedly, hasn't been long, but I can't come across as antisocial. "I mean..." I stammered, "Yeah! I'm hungry as shit. Where you wanna go?" He giggled a little, "Duh, dude, the Den?" The Den is the name of the school cafeteria. "Isn't that closed? Pretty sure they close at 8." I saw his eyes widen before clenching them shut. "Shit, yeah, forgot they close. Ain't used to this late class thing." "What's nearby?" "I dunno, I think maybe a Denny's? I swear I saw one up the street." I took out my phone and did a search for a Denny's in the surrounding area. And sure enough, there was one right up the street just outside of the campus grounds. We could walk there. "Yeah, yeah... There's a Denny's up the street from here. We could walk there, if you want." "Sweet," he said, a smile spreading on his face. "Let's go!" "Don't you wanna, y'know, drop your stuff off at your dorm?" I asked. "Nah, dude, it'll take too long. I'm hungry now," he excitedly stated. He then surprised the shit out of me by grabbing my forearm and pulled me out through the doors of the building. "Where we going?" he asked, letting go of my arm. I looked at my phone again to get a bearing. "This way," I stated, and began walking. And he suddenly appeared at my side. "Jolias, by the way," he said, nudging his shoulder into mine. I noticed for the first time, finally, that he was actually shorter than me. I was already kind of short, in my opinion, at 5'9". He was maybe two inches shorter. I initially imagined him taller, but now he seemed even cuter. And still sexy as hell. "Mike," I said, responding with my own name. And my cock continued to throb in time with our steps.
  12. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Three "Welcome home. Nate.", their i-house greeted him, when "The Machine" returned home. "There is. Protein-shake. For. Three days. left. Do you want me to order. Protein-shake. From an Apple-approved supplement store?" "Make it so.", The Machine answered in his deep delightful voice, but just now, he didn't want to be "The Machine". He wanted to be just Nate. "Robbie, are you there?" "In the study, Nate. You are lucky: I just finished feeding the chicken and checking the battery." Nate put his bag down on the floor, and slouched into the study. Rob was occupied writing something on his i-top, and sat with his back to the door. Nate came closer, and put his arms around Rob's traps and neck, pressing himself against Rob's chair, burying his nose in Rob's crewcut. "Something wrong?" "Nothing particular. Nothing new.", Nate sighed. Rob continued to write. They were silent together. Rob could feel Nate's body heat close, and pressed "Send". Then he rose from the chair, turned around and hugged his big husband. They hugged each other in silence. "Food?" "Ate dinner according to Coach's schedule, but I could have a supper with you in an hour, if that's ok?" "It's ok, indeed. I didn't have the best of days either. Will you begin, or will I?" "I had to lose against "Space Marine" tonight." "The audience would be bored dead if you won all the time, wouldn't they? This will add some tension, I guess. You are not a bad loser under ordinary circumstances. You know the business. Something else is troubling you, isn't it?" "A bundle of things. I will not repeat the usual stuff, but you know, I wanted to become big in order to compete ..." "... and entertainment isn't about real opposition, real achievements. The best Machine I know has told me those things before." "And then there's time. When I was younger, time went slower. A year was an ocean of time. Now it's rushing. Woosh. Like that. Do I look old, Robbie?" "Don't be silly. You look mature. I prefer my favourite Machine mature. I gather, that many of your fans do, too." "It's not something to joke about. "Space Marine" is just 25. I'm worried, that WHC might consider to move me from the all-age league to the adult-only league, just as they did, when they forced "Biker Brawn" to change nickname to "Leather Daddy"." "Don't be ridiculous. Little boys all over the world love to watch "The Machine" fight and tell them to eat spinach and brush their teeth properly. And WHC wouldn't want to lose the opportunity to sell more "The Machine"-toys." "Coach told me, that I would 'take the time I need' to consider a Rejuvenation at Physical Potential Foundation." "Rejuvenation? I can understand the 70 and 80 year olds, but someone about 40 undergoing Rejuvenation is damn outright ridiculous. What does Coach believe it would achieve?" "Today, heels look mature. If I want to continue as a face, I need to be baby-faced, he says." "Something is wrong with this world. You know, that I seldom lose my temper, Nate, but that's sick, and it's not the only thing, that is sick about this world. All of it makes me furious!" Rob trembled in controlled rage. Nate hugged him again, and there was something with his brainy and usually so composed husband angry, that turned him on. When his bulge throbbed against Rob's fly, he could feel how it caused Rob to become aroused, too. Their breathing changed. Nate kissed Rob. Then he lifted his muscular husband up – all 880 pounds of him – and carried him into the bedroom. Supper had to wait. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  13. The Prelude to this story may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Two Max had finished one of his late night workouts. They had caused him a fit and lean body, but the PT:s, which he only briefly had been able to afford, had told him, that he was a "typical hardgainer", unlikely to ever achieve the bodybuilder physique so popular among a certain segment of his circle of friends. He was ravenously hungry, and popped by a night-open fast food chain famous for their vegan kimchi-burgers. He crossed the street, one lane at the time: Pavement, bike lane, horse lane, oneway RobCab lane, oneway car lane, horse lane, bike lane and pavement – the usual for a street of this size: Only the big roads allowed RobCab lanes and car lanes in both directions. The air was chilly and had some bite. Winter was approaching. He was fumbling with his g-watch for the entry code, but opened the app for his g-fridge by mistake, and he stood with his back to the street. When the big arm locked his neck in its crook, it took him by surprise. He was dragged into a black van, and someone pulled his bag out of his grip. He was vaguely aware of two big blokes, the size of Hancers, before someone put a sort of sack or hood over his head. He felt a sting in his neck, and he blackened out. The last thing he heard was his g-watch, saying: "Welcome, Max. You have one tomato left. Do you want me to order tomatoes?" * * * Dr. Robert Nelson, one of the founders of and experts at Megagrowth Hancing Services, read, watched and listened to the multimedia-news on his i-screen with growing concern. "No new information has been found about the disappearance of Canada-based journalist Max Brad, a Canadian of Polish-American extraction, who left his home two days ago without leaving a trace. Mr. Brad's watch was found without fingerprints in a public dustbin six miles from his home, and the Police does not exclude the possibility of crime. If you know anything, that could be of assistance, please contact the Police authority at ..." The young little fool. He had warned Max about those Hancers who didn't grok, that Max was doing his work for the general good of Hancer-culture, and he had warned about the unscrupulous companies, that competed with Megagrowth Hancing Services and Physical Potential Foundation. No signs yet, of the articles Max had promised to publish soon. Rob felt worried, that someone had tried to silence Max – by which means and how successfully could be anyone's guess. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  14. The Prelude to this story may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter One HanceCon 8 was over. Max had disembarked the Zepp (which was what carbo-penalty he could afford on his wage, and was also in line with his editors' environment policies) a few hours earlier, and he was back home, writing on his Google-top. His series of articles about "rogue players in hancing-business" was ready to go, and there was enough material for his series about affluent elder men (or women) – "hulk-daddies" and "hulk-mummies" – taking advantage of financially disadvantaged teenagers or young men who wanted to get big by hancing. His trip to HanceCon had been a part private and part professional affair, and he had to work late, in order to post the multi-media article which summed HanceCon 8 up. Rob. Rob Nelson. A delicious shiver rushed along his spine, when he remembered the night spent with none other than Rob Nelson himself and his husband Nate "The Machine" Nelson, one of World Hancer-wrestling Championship's household names. It was part work-related: The seemingly very honest interview with "The Machine" about lost opportunities was journalistic gold. He had to listen to that clip again: "You know, when I was younger, I competed in MMA, and I had dreams about participating in Strongman competitions after hancing, but after hancing – a very experimental and pioneering hancing experience of the sort that existed, back then – and after the Strongman sport came to terms with the existence of hancing, Hancers were forbidden to participate in any baseline sports ..." "Do you regret hancing?" (pause) (a sigh) "Regret? No, not regret ... I loved the experience, and I love my life as it is now ... I'm devoted to WHC, and I love my fans out there ... but I just want young baseline lads out there considering hancing ... You need to know, that hancing shut some doors, and open other doors up. You can't combine dreams about baseline sports with being a Hancer. You have to realise that, before you make an irreversible decision." But other aspects of the night at their hotel room had been less work-related. He hadn't planned to encounter Rob. It had just been a lucky coincidence, that the hero from his teenage years had calmed big little Brawn down. Max had mentioned those old commercials to Rob. That caused Rob to laugh and show those shiny teeth in that suntanned testosterone-radiating well-preserved midlife-face: "The first commercials were ridiculous, I know! Do you remember the one, in which our marketing director dressed me up in a He-Man outfit, and had me read the script: 'Hey, buddy! Do you have what it takes, to absorb the power of Greyskull? If you have, call number MEG-AG-ROWTHNOW today! I HAVE THE POWER!'" Rob had changed his voice, and imitated the old commercial very well. Max had blushed. "We had to pay Hattel-Masbro a lot of money to allow us to use their character, but it payed off in the long run. It was just after the remake of the remake of the movie was released." "Hey, Robbie. He's one of them.", 'The Machine' said. Max blushed, and felt embarrassingly horny. "One of whom?" Rob laughed again. Deep nice laugh. Those penetrating icy blue eyes. That platinum blond crewcut. Max blushed. "I will not ask you anything private, Max, but let me tell you, that I receive a lot of i-mails, g-mails and a-mails from fans, who tell me, that they had their first orgasm, when they watched that commercial or one of the other early – cheesier – commercials. The days when rationing ended were carefree and silly and playful in my whereabouts. All that pent-up need for fun and games after the Crisis, the War and the early Post-War Years. Most of those commercials were prohibited in the Confederacy, the Continuing Russian Federation and Rump-China, and we had to produce censored versions of a few of them for the market in Rump-UK, because of the political campaign Decent Media in a Decent Wessex-Anglia, but they were a success in the rest of the world. Despite the backlash more recently, Saudi youth were eager to embrace everything new immediately after the Revolution, and young lads in the Siberian Federation loved it. The negative side of the latter fact, was the rise of rogue players in hancing-business operating in the Siberian Federation, because of the lack of regulations, but I guess you have encountered that in your investigations." "Shut your trap, Robbie. Can't you see, that he's not just a journo, but a Hancer-fanboy, too?", 'The Machine' interrupted. The Machine flexed his biceps. "Do you like the sight of this? I bet you like the sight of this?" Rob fell silent. A playful glint awakened in those icy blue eyes, and then he tensed his biceps, too. "Yeah, son. Watch this! How about TWO Hancer-blokes showing you what they've got?" Rob rose from the Grande-sized hotel bed, all his 7 feet, moved considerately all their glasses of vodka to a safe distance from any movement, stood there – all his 880 pounds of conditioned muscle – with his powerful legs wide apart, made a double biceps-pose, met Max' gaze and roared in that exaggerated commercial-voice: "I HAVE THE POWER!" That caused the first of Max orgasms that night. It had been followed by several. The night had turned out very satisfactory for all parts involved. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  15. PREFACE Taking my recurring writer's block in consideration (I've left several stories unfinished in the past), I'm not entirely sure, if I'll be able to write any continuation of this Prelude, but every story has to begin somewhere. I wanted to explore the future of the universe in which some – but not all – of my other stories have taken place. Please be forewarned: Some of you may find it boring. My Hulk-daddy is Paying Prelude "Oi! Aren't you the fukking Max Brad?" It was probably not the right time to explain, that "Max Brad" was a useful pseudonym, because "Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz" wouldn't endear me among the editors. The voice was angry. The voice belonged to another participant of the Convention: A 6'6'' Englishman, presumably in his mid-20s, wide as a barn-door, wearing Adidas-wear and a polo – the latter clinging to his exaggeratedly bulging torso and upper arms, like it had been painted on: Probably one of the new "spray-it-on polos", which had become popular during the Millennium Revival a few years ago. You couldn't see the difference between a spray-it-on-polo and a traditional one, but some of the Traditionalists within the Millennium Revival were in a habit of putting their noses in the air when they discovered someone wearing a spray-it-on. He grabbed my collar and lifted me up – not much of a feat, because of my lightweight hardgainer physique, but his bicepses bulged in a nice way – and continued to shout in my face: "Wha' you said in that show wasn't true. You're spreading tosh, but wha' could a wuss toff like yerself know about The Scene? Why are you even here, if you hate the Hancer Scene so much?" "I don't hate anyone. Many of my friends are Hancers. If you really watched that show, and not just base your opinion about me on hearsay, what I wanted to say ..." He shaked me. "Yer a bloody liar, and an enemy to the Hancer Scene – that's wha' me friends say!" If he hadn't been so angry, it would have been a rather pleasant experience. Cute face, too: Buzzcut, brown eyes, almost – but only almost – a pug nose, and he'd got a dimple in his chin. Involuntarily, I was beginning to get a hard-on –– which wasn't an unusual experience whenever I attended Hancer gatherings – my editors expected me to cultivate my unique and particular niche. Then, it was all interrupted by a pleasantly deep voice talking in Cascadian English, which caused ripples of pleasure along my spine and my hair to bristle: "Are there any problems here?" My young English captor turned to face the voice, which allowed me to see whom the voice belonged to. The ripples of pleasure along my spine intensified, and the way my member throbbed behind my fly caused me to lose concentration. I had seen that face somewhere, but I wasn't in a state to think clearly. His slim-fit sportswear revealed the wide back and the narrow waist of the 7 feet tall Cascadian, and there was something about the size and colour of his shoulders, that reminded me of pumpkins. Icy blue eyes inspected my captor unfavourably, and absent-mindedly I noticed a platinum-blond crewcut. For a brief moment, the gaze of my captor and the gaze of the newcomer were involved in a silent battle. Then, my captor lowered me down. My feet returned to the floor. "No problems 'ere, mate. Just messing with the journo 'ere. 'Ave you 'eard about what 'e said?" "If you want to hear what the man has to say himself – stay. Otherwise – shush." The Englishman looked conflicted, and it even looked like he tried to move in two directions at the same time. Then he stayed. "Now. That's better." The Cascadian turned his attention to me, and stretched his hand out: "Hi. I'm Rob Nelson. You are Max Brad, aren't you?" The handshake was firm, but it seemed like the blond giant tried to avoid to harm me. My reason was returning, and I remembered where I had seen that face before. "I am. Seems like some people still watch old media." "I plan to listen to your panel. Just because most things associated with the Hancer Scene is great fun, it doesn't mean, that we are without certain issues. Unlike some ..." Rob glanced at the Englishman who took a few steps backwards. "... I think it's great, that someone shed light on the more unsavoury aspects of 'Hancing. And what's your name, son?" "Uh. Great to meet you Mr. Nelson. You are one of me childhood heroes, innit. I'm Brawn. Brawn Taylor." The giants exchanged a handshake. "If you are willing to behave, you may join me and Mr. Brad for lunch, son, if Mr. Brad allows it." I silently nodded. The anger had left Brawn's eyes, and had been replaced by a sort of puppy-like hero-worship. "I may? Wicked sick! Ah have to tell me friends when I come back home." The convention centre was fairly vast and fairly new: The building industry had seen a boom after the alien invasion, but, understandably, convention centres hadn't been the first concern after rebuilding human civilisation after the interplanetary war, particularly not when you took the rising sea levels in regard. It wasn't crowded everywhere, but where it was, it would have been difficult for a baseline man like myself to come through the crowds, even if all participants of HanceCon 8 had been baselines like myself. Now, taking the particular nature of HanceCon in regard, it had its fair share of men like Rob and Brawn, but since the latter two made way through the crowds of enhanced men, I was able to follow them to a diner in a slightly undisturbed corner. On our way there, we passed by a stand proclaiming that it belonged to The Original and Best Gay-friendly Enhancement Company, and it wasn't surprising, that there also were stands selling Extra-Large Sportswear and Nutritional Supplements for the Hancer Scene, though the latter was rumoured to be some sort of scam. We found ourselves a corner with a regular chair and two Grande chairs. I had seen Hancers eat before, and it wasn't the surprise it had been the first time, but the amounts of food the two Hancers were able to eat still felt slightly surreal. Absent-mindedly I heard fragments of a conversation from a table behind my chair: "Who's my huge little Power-Hobbit? Are you my huge little Power-Hobbit?" "Oh stop it, Cuddling-Monster. You know that ..." I returned my attention to Rob's and Brawn's conversation. "Some people believe, that I somehow founded the Hancer tribe, but the first hancing company, which used another technology, than the one I assisted in improving and making safe to use, already existed before the Interplanetary War, and you'll probably find men belonging to your great grandfather's generation here at the Convention. Some of The Procedures de-age men. Secondly, some outsiders presume that all Hancers are gay, which explains why hancing is prohibited in the United Federated States, but it irritates me a lot when gay Hancers presume, that there aren't any straight guys in The Scene. I mean, just take a look at the ridiculously nationalist Hancers in the Independent Republic of Texas and the Continuing Federation of Russia, for instance, or how popular hancing has become in the Republic of New Deseret, since President Kimball-Young had that revelation? Sorry, Max. I'm talking a lot. What's your panel discussion about tonight?" "Thanks for asking. It would be whipping a dead horse to discuss the psychological issues some, but not all, Hancers may have, but there are other aspects of Hancer-culture, which ought to be acknowledged and discussed openly: Should people be allowed to have mind-implants, even if it decreases their intellectual ability or affect their personality in ways their relatives consider harmful? There are no easy and simple answers to that question, and I hope, that the discussion will be honest and nuanced. And then, there's also the issue of class-disadvantage. Most hancing-procedures cost a lot of money, which will make Hancer-culture some sort of playground for the affluent." I was hit by some inarticulate thought in the back of my head, and asked Brawn: "By the way, how could an ordinary bloke like yourself be able to afford Hancing?" Brawn smiled and looked confident in that delicious way, which caused me to become hard again, and then answered: "Nothing mysterious about that, mate. Me hulk-daddy is paying." * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  16. Hi everyone. First time poster here. Inspired by the works of Londonboy, Omnipotent, Liftme, and many others. Love super muscle men! So here is my first attempt at a story. There's going to be a lot of world building in this one. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback welcome. The Olympian chronicles: Ivan Chapter 1: Who I am… The air felt good on my bare torso as I flew through the sky. The feel of the wind as it whipped over my magnificent physique: bulbous pecs, titanium abs (six-pack), concrete biceps and triceps, and a back that rippled with muscular curvature. Complemented by a light coating of vascularity here and there. Overall I looked like a being the Greek Gods themselves would’ve aspired to be. I came to a rest about thirty thousand feet above my home suburb. My superhuman vision able to see the ground below in perfect detail. Not one square inch I couldn’t easily make out. I simply hovered there. I continued to enjoy the air as it now brushed lightly on my impenetrable skin. I closed my eyes and felt the power that coursed through me, and marvelled at how only a month ago I was human. I opened my eyes and observed the setting sun in the distance. I looked down to see how it illuminated my spectacular body. Every part of me was muscle. Every part of me huge, strong, defined, beautiful, and blemish-free. Always clean, always perfectly groomed, and always with a light tan that only accentuated the curves and solidness of the muscles. I am Ivan, and I am an Olympian. So what is an Olympian exactly? Nobody knows what causes the phenomenon, nor why it ever began in the first place. But Olympians were a part of our reality, and have been so for the last one-hundred and seventy-nine years. Almost every year, without any prior warning, one to four young men (usually one or two, rarely more) will, upon turning twenty, suddenly and dramatically change. In the space of just a few seconds they will, regardless of prior body-type or lifestyle, suddenly transform into massive, immaculate, beautiful, and flawless bodybuilders on the spot. And if that wasn’t enough, they will also possess a plethora of superhuman abilities that extend far beyond what even the likes of Superman, Thor, or even Dr. Manhattan could ever dream of having. To name BUT A FEW: · Superhuman strength (to the point of moving planets effortlessly) · Invulnerability (to date, there is no known way of harming an Olympian) · Superhuman speed (beyond the speed of light of course) · Superhuman senses (all senses) · Superhuman agility, reflexes, coordination, and muscle control · Flight · Heat vision · X-ray vision · Freeze breath (and the ability to blow gale-force winds with ease) · Telekinesis (which breaks down into loads of additional abilities) · Telepathy Again, nobody knows why this happens; it just does. Oh, and before I forget, yes: Olympians are also immortal. The first ones to appear are still looking as though they are twenty years old, despite almost pushing two hundred! Naturally I didn’t take long for the humans who stayed being human to realise that there were now all-powerful, unstoppable gods walking amongst them. Thankfully for them, all Olympians to date have proven to be kind, just, and principled in a positive way. And so, since the dawn of Olympians, human civilisation all over has changed dramatically. The life of a human now revolves around worshipping Olympians, along with living an otherwise normal day-to-day life. But more on that later. So anyway, I’m Ivan. And one month ago to the day I transformed into an Olympian. One second I was an ordinary, unremarkable college student in the middle of a college lecture on psychology, and the next minute I was floating in mid-air above my fellow classmates with a physique that the world’s top bodybuilders spend their whole lives trying to achieve. All around me my classmates, along with the professor, all immediately dropped to their knees and began to bow to me. They fervently whispered prayers, while those closest to me reached for my hover feet and diamond calves in the hopes of being able to feel them. This was followed by every man in the hall pulling out an erect cock and jerking off to the sight of me, while every woman reached a few fingers down their underwear. Overwhelmed, I clumsily shot upwards through the roof and out into the sky. I was a bit panicked by being up so high, and so when I tried to land I ended up creating a crater in the middle of campus. Thankfully no one was hurt. I was also completely naked, as my clothes had been shredded by my rapidly expanding body during the transformation. Once again, every human who could see me began kneeling, bowing, jerking off, fingering themselves, and in general crying out how amazing I was; all because I was an Olympian. Fast forward a month, and here I am levitating thousands of feet above my home. I had largely taught myself how to control most of my main abilities, like flight and strength. I had also given up on wearing clothes for the most part. I was wearing boxer shorts and jeans at the moment, but other than that, I couldn’t find tops that would fit me. Not that it was a problem; Olympians were allowed to be naked in public if they wanted to be. The one change that I was struggling with was how people reacted to me. It’s too much to take in quickly. One minute you’re a scrawny, nerdy, weak little man who’s never played sport, and is still a virgin. The suddenly people are actually bowing to you. Total strangers and people you’ve known your whole life now kneel when you enter a room, or walk (or float) by them on the street. You’re walking around without a shirt, fully aware of it, yet now you have a physique like Arnold or Ronnie Coleman, and not a skinny, acne-covered torso and stick-arms. Now you’re handsome beyond description, and not well below average. People are openly pleasuring themselves to your image, in front of you, and because it’s law no less! It’s just…a lot to come to terms with. I began my descent and soon landed gently in the back garden. Certainly a lot better than the first time I landed here. Let’s just say my dad had to hire a landscaping company to fix the damage. I still live with my dad by the way. He’s been so supportive of me throughout all of this. All the while trying not to give in to his “mortal instincts”. Which is a term used to describe every human’s inherent desire to worship Olympians. “Dad, I’m home” I say, as I close the sliding door behind me. My big bare feet pat loudly as I walk across the tiled floor of the kitchen. I have to keep ducking down as I walk through doorways. 5’7’’ to 6’8’’ is quite the difference. I find my dad in the living room, already kneeling. No doubt doing so the second he heard my voice. “Come on dad, you don’t have to do that. Not for me” I say, feeling a little embarrassed by his display of reverence. “Of course son” says my dad, hastily getting to his feet, “whatever you say”. He’s smiling, somewhat nervously, and constantly looking back and forth over my body, trying to pick a muscle group to settle on. He’s still just standing there. “You can go about your business” I say, “I just came in to say hi. I’m going up to my room for a bit”. “Of…of course” says Dad, “Is there anything you want me to do?” he asks. He nods enthusiastically, excited at the idea of being able to directly obey an Olympian, even if it’s his own son. “Nope. Just go back to whatever it was you were doing”, I say, trying to smile sweetly at him, and ignore the absurdity of the situation. And with that I quickly leave the room. At speeds that no human could ever hope to move at, I shot from the living room to my bedroom upstairs. I promptly took off my jeans and stood there in just my boxers, enjoying the coolness that now caressed my muscular legs. I turned my attention to my full-body dressing mirror and decided to treat myself to another posing show. BOOM! Biceps that easily exceed thirty inched, with a proud vein on each that rested on them like crowns. And my pecs! Hello!!! Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce. Up and down they went in turn. The entire rest of my being as still as a statue while my magnificent pecs bounced, vibrated, and jiggled in exquisite detail. I stopped the bounce and flexed them both. Their size expanded, and they looked far more like two massive slabs of concrete. I raised my arms again so as to admire my lats and obliques; still in disbelief that I actually had those muscles. On me! On my body! And that’s not to mention the abs. Oh my Olympian! My abs. Like six cobble-stones that made steel feel soft by comparison. I only just managed to master the art of rolling my abs, making waves glide up or down. One minute I could contort them and mush them about by flexing alone, and the next I could tense them into a wall of pure power and strength. Next up were my legs. Quads of the gods, as I liked to call them. Even when I wasn’t tensing or flexing they were still formidably rock-solid. I liked to run my fingers over them, just to feel the different ridges and boundaries of muscle. Next I turned my attention to my calves. Diamonds by shape, yet so much harder, and so much stronger. I shoved an SUV the other day with my foot, and the corresponding calve generated enough power to send it sailing out towards the horizon. I was only trying to dislodge if from a ditch the driver had accidently driven it into. Amusingly though, he wasn’t mad. He immediately bowed and thanked me for displaying my strength to him. He cried for joy when he asked to touch my calves and I said yes. I can still feel his delicate little finger tips tracing lines on them. He came a few times without either of us ever touching his dick. I left him after that. I…I’m not ready to be a god to people just yet. The thought robbed me of my enthusiasm for more flexing. Instead I slumped down onto my bed. This is my life now. This is who I’m going to be. I should be happier (which I am when I’m flexing for myself, jerking off with my new 10’’ cock, or effortlessly curling train engines), but the thought of ruling humans, and being celebrated as superior is still…I don’t know. It’s a big change. There was a knock at the door. “Come in” I said. I telekinetically opened the door to find Dad standing in a somewhat cowered position on the other side. Telekinesis was weird. It’s like I could feel the door with my brain. “Hi son” he said, in a polite tone and with a nervous smile. I knew he had only come up here so that he could be around me, look at me more, and maybe even touch me if I allowed it. It was instinctual in humans to want to worship Olympians and be close to them. Not to mention obey them without question. “Hey Dad, what’s up?” I said, smiling sweetly at him, trying to put him at ease. “Just came to see how my big man is! What did you get up to today?” he said, and kneeled down in front of me while trying to maintain eye contact and not look at some other part of me. I doubt he even noticed that he kneeled. “Not much. Just flew around the city a few times. I really want to perfect my flight power before travelling any farther” I said. Dad nodded energetically, with his mouth hanging open a little. It was kind of amusing. “Well I know you don’t need to eat anymore, but the…eh…the dinner will be there…I mean ready, in a few minutes, if you want…you know” he said, struggling to maintain composure around his literal god of a son. “Great!” I said, smiling all the while to keep the atmosphere friendly. A minute of silence passed. Dad was still kneeling, now looking down at my feet. I rolled my eyes. “Dad” I said. He immediately looked up at my face. “Do you want to…touch my muscles?” I said, weirded out by the thought. Of course, Dad wasn’t. As a human he couldn’t think clearly in the presence of an Olympian. “Yes! Oh yes please son! You are so…so incredibly beautiful now!” he said suddenly, and began running a hand across my pecs. “Wow! So powerful” he whispered, as he examined the finer details of my godly chest. He poked them, trying to make a dent, but to no avail. I have to admit: I liked seeing him so happy. I bounced my pecs a little for him, and he ended up drooling a small bit. I chuckled. “Alright” I said, standing up and towering over him. He gulped at the sight of me, and whimpered a small bit too. “Dinner time” I said, indicating that it was alright for him to stand up too. He did so, but still only came up to the base of my pecs. I patted him gently on the head. “I love you Dad, no matter what I’ve become” I said, trying to get some of that pre-Olympian father-son relationship back. “I love you too son” he said, looking up past my pecs at me. “And I’m so proud of what you’ve become. I look forward to seeing an even more powerful version of you when you return from Mercury after god-school” he said. Oh, that’s right. I forgot to mention. All newly born Olympians are expected to attend “god-school” on the planet Mercury for a few months, after which they will have developed to their fullest potential. Basically, the way I am now doesn’t even measure up to the level of power I’ll have in a few months. I am expected to begin god-school in a few days. It is decreed by one of the laws of David, the first Olympian. Who’s he? Right, there’s still so much about this version of reality that you don’t know…
  17. DanMan2020

    The Olympian chronicles: Ivan

    Hi everyone. First time poster here. My story is inspired by works like "A is for Alpha and Antoine" by Londonboy, "The man who saved me" by Guest(?), and "My roommate is a god" by Omnipotence. Like them I am a lover of super powerful, super muscle men. I'm going to try and upload a chapter or two every weekend. A lot of world building is going to go into this. Hope everyone enjoys! The Olympian chronicles: Ivan Chapter 1: Who I am… The air felt good on my bare torso as I flew through the sky. The feel of the wind as it whipped over my magnificent physique: bulbous pecs, titanium abs (six-pack), concrete biceps and triceps, and a back that rippled with muscular curvature. Complemented by light coating of vascularity here and there. Overall I looked like a being the Greek Gods themselves would’ve aspired to be. I came to a rest about thirty thousand feet above my home suburb. My superhuman vision able to see the ground below in perfect detail. Not one square inch I couldn’t easily make out. I simply hovered there. I continued to enjoy the air as it now brushed lightly on my impenetrable skin. I closed my eyes and felt the power that coursed through me, and marvelled at how only a month ago I was human. I opened my eyes and observed the setting sun in the distance. I looked down to see how it illuminated my spectacular body. Every part of me was muscle. Every part of me huge, strong, defined, beautiful, and blemish-free. Always clean, always perfectly groomed, and always with a light tan that only accentuated the curves and solidness of the muscles. I am Ivan, and I am an Olympian. So what is an Olympian exactly? Nobody knows what causes the phenomenon, nor why it ever began in the first place. But Olympians were a part of our reality, and have been so for the last one-hundred and seventy-nine years. Almost every year, without any prior warning, one to four young men (usually one or two, rarely more) will, upon turning twenty, suddenly and dramatically change. In the space of just a few seconds they will, regardless of prior body-type or lifestyle, suddenly transform into massive, immaculate, beautiful, and flawless bodybuilders on the spot. And if that wasn’t enough, they will also possess a plethora of superhuman abilities that extend far beyond what even the likes of Superman, Thor, or even Dr. Manhattan could ever dream of having. To name BUT A FEW: · Superhuman strength (to the point of moving planets effortlessly) · Invulnerability (to date, there is no known way of harming an Olympian) · Superhuman speed (beyond the speed of light of course) · Superhuman senses (all senses) · Superhuman agility, reflexes, coordination, and muscle control · Flight · Heat vision · X-ray vision · Freeze breath (and the ability to blow gale-force winds with ease) · Telekinesis (which breaks down into loads of additional abilities) · Telepathy Again, nobody knows why this happens; it just does. Oh, and before I forget, yes: Olympians are also immortal. The first ones to appear are still looking as though they are twenty years old, despite almost pushing two hundred! Naturally I didn’t take long for the humans who stayed being human to realise that there were now all-powerful, unstoppable gods walking amongst them. Thankfully for them, all Olympians to date have proven to be kind, just, and principled in a positive way. And so, since the dawn of Olympians, human civilisation all over has changed dramatically. The life of a human now revolves around worshipping Olympians, along with living an otherwise normal day-to-day life. But more on that later. So anyway, I’m Ivan. And one month ago to the day I transformed into an Olympian. One second I was an ordinary, unremarkable college student in the middle of a college lecture on psychology, and the next minute I was floating in mid-air above my fellow classmates with a physique that the world’s top bodybuilders spend their whole lives trying to achieve. All around me my classmates, along with the professor, all immediately dropped to their knees and began to bow to me. They fervently whispered prayers, while those closest to me reached for my hover feet and diamond calves in the hopes of being able to feel them. This was followed by every man in the hall pulling out an erect cock and jerking off to the sight of me, while every woman reached a few fingers down their underwear. Overwhelmed, I clumsily shot upwards through the roof and out into the sky. I was a bit panicked by being up so high, and so when I tried to land I ended up creating a crater in the middle of campus. Thankfully no one was hurt. I was also completely naked, as my clothes had been shredded by my rapidly expanding body during the transformation. Once again, every human who could see me began kneeling, bowing, jerking off, fingering themselves, and in general crying out how amazing I was; all because I was an Olympian. Fast forward a month, and here I am levitating thousands of feet above my home. I had largely taught myself how to control most of my main abilities, like flight and strength. I had also given up on wearing clothes for the most part. I was wearing boxer shorts and jeans at the moment, but other than that, I couldn’t find tops that would fit me. Not that it was a problem; Olympians were allowed to be naked in public if they wanted to be. The one change that I was struggling with was how people reacted to me. It’s too much to take in quickly. One minute you’re a scrawny, nerdy, weak little man who’s never played sport, and is still a virgin. The suddenly people are actually bowing to you. Total strangers and people you’ve known your whole life now kneel when you enter a room, or walk (or float) by them on the street. You’re walking around without a shirt, fully aware of it, yet now you have a physique like Arnold or Ronnie Coleman, and not a skinny, acne-covered torso and stick-arms. Now you’re handsome beyond description, and not well below average. People are openly pleasuring themselves to your image, in front of you, and because it’s law no less! It’s just…a lot to come to terms with. I began my descent and soon landed gently in the back garden. Certainly a lot better than the first time I landed here. Let’s just say my dad had to hire a landscaping company to fix the damage. I still live with my dad by the way. He’s been so supportive of me throughout all of this. All the while trying not to give in to his “mortal instincts”. Which is a term used to describe every human’s inherent desire to worship Olympians. “Dad, I’m home” I say, as I close the sliding door behind me. My big bare feet pat loudly as I walk across the tiled floor of the kitchen. I have to keep ducking down as I walk through doorways. 5’7’’ to 6’8’’ is quite the difference. I find my dad in the living room, already kneeling. No doubt doing so the second he heard my voice. “Come on dad, you don’t have to do that. Not for me” I say, feeling a little embarrassed by his display of reverence. “Of course son” says my dad, hastily getting to his feet, “whatever you say”. He’s smiling, somewhat nervously, and constantly looking back and forth over my body, trying to pick a muscle group to settle on. He’s still just standing there. “You can go about your business” I say, “I just came in to say hi. I’m going up to my room for a bit”. “Of…of course” says Dad, “Is there anything you want me to do?” he asks. He nods enthusiastically, excited at the idea of being able to directly obey an Olympian, even if it’s his own son. “Nope. Just go back to whatever it was you were doing”, I say, trying to smile sweetly at him, and ignore the absurdity of the situation. And with that I quickly leave the room. At speeds that no human could ever hope to move at, I shot from the living room to my bedroom upstairs. I promptly took off my jeans and stood there in just my boxers, enjoying the coolness that now caressed my muscular legs. I turned my attention to my full-body dressing mirror and decided to treat myself to another posing show. BOOM! Biceps that easily exceed thirty inched, with a proud vein on each that rested on them like crowns. And my pecs! Hello!!! Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce. Up and down they went in turn. The entire rest of my being as still as a statue while my magnificent pecs bounced, vibrated, and jiggled in exquisite detail. I stopped the bounce and flexed them both. Their size expanded, and they looked far more like two massive slabs of concrete. I raised my arms again so as to admire my lats and obliques; still in disbelief that I actually had those muscles. On me! On my body! And that’s not to mention the abs. Oh my Olympian! My abs. Like six cobble-stones that made steel feel soft by comparison. I only just managed to master the art of rolling my abs, making waves glide up or down. One minute I could contort them and mush them about by flexing alone, and the next I could tense them into a wall of pure power and strength. Next up were my legs. Quads of the gods, as I liked to call them. Even when I wasn’t tensing or flexing they were still formidably rock-solid. I liked to run my fingers over them, just to feel the different ridges and boundaries of muscle. Next I turned my attention to my calves. Diamonds by shape, yet so much harder, and so much stronger. I shoved an SUV the other day with my foot, and the corresponding calve generated enough power to send it sailing out towards the horizon. I was only trying to dislodge if from a ditch the driver had accidently driven it into. Amusingly though, he wasn’t mad. He immediately bowed and thanked me for displaying my strength to him. He cried for joy when he asked to touch my calves and I said yes. I can still feel his delicate little finger tips tracing lines on them. He came a few times without either of us ever touching his dick. I left him after that. I…I’m not ready to be a god to people just yet. The thought robbed me of my enthusiasm for more flexing. Instead I slumped down onto my bed. This is my life now. This is who I’m going to be. I should be happier (which I am when I’m flexing for myself, jerking off with my new 10’’ cock, or effortlessly curling train engines), but the thought of ruling humans, and being celebrated as superior is still…I don’t know. It’s a big change. There was a knock at the door. “Come in” I said. I telekinetically opened the door to find Dad standing in a somewhat cowered position on the other side. Telekinesis was weird. It’s like I could feel the door with my brain. “Hi son” he said, in a polite tone and with a nervous smile. I knew he had only come up here so that he could be around me, look at me more, and maybe even touch me if I allowed it. It was instinctual in humans to want to worship Olympians and be close to them. Not to mention obey them without question. “Hey Dad, what’s up?” I said, smiling sweetly at him, trying to put him at ease. “Just came to see how my big man is! What did you get up to today?” he said, and kneeled down in front of me while trying to maintain eye contact and not look at some other part of me. I doubt he even noticed that he kneeled. “Not much. Just flew around the city a few times. I really want to perfect my flight power before travelling any farther” I said. Dad nodded energetically, with his mouth hanging open a little. It was kind of amusing. “Well I know you don’t need to eat anymore, but the…eh…the dinner will be there…I mean ready, in a few minutes, if you want…you know” he said, struggling to maintain composure around his literal god of a son. “Great!” I said, smiling all the while to keep the atmosphere friendly. A minute of silence passed. Dad was still kneeling, now looking down at my feet. I rolled my eyes. “Dad” I said. He immediately looked up at my face. “Do you want to…touch my muscles?” I said, weirded out by the thought. Of course, Dad wasn’t. As a human he couldn’t think clearly in the presence of an Olympian. “Yes! Oh yes please son! You are so…so incredibly beautiful now!” he said suddenly, and began running a hand across my pecs. “Wow! So powerful” he whispered, as he examined the finer details of my godly chest. He poked them, trying to make a dent, but to no avail. I have to admit: I liked seeing him so happy. I bounced my pecs a little for him, and he ended up drooling a small bit. I chuckled. “Alright” I said, standing up and towering over him. He gulped at the sight of me, and whimpered a small bit too. “Dinner time” I said, indicating that it was alright for him to stand up too. He did so, but still only came up to the base of my pecs. I patted him gently on the head. “I love you Dad, no matter what I’ve become” I said, trying to get some of that pre-Olympian father-son relationship back. “I love you too son” he said, looking up past my pecs at me. “And I’m so proud of what you’ve become. I look forward to seeing an even more powerful version of you when you return from Mercury after god-school” he said. Oh, that’s right. I forgot to mention. All newly born Olympians are expected to attend “god-school” on the planet Mercury for a few months, after which they will have developed to their fullest potential. Basically, the way I am now doesn’t even measure up to the level of power I’ll have in a few months. I am expected to begin god-school in a few days. It is decreed by one of the laws of David, the first Olympian. Who’s he? Right, there’s still so much about this version of reality that you don’t know…
  18. Chapter One "ALL FOR ONE AND ONE FOR ALL!" As Francois, James and Larry all held the pose, the selfie timer clicked and posted the photo of "The Apprentice Musketeers (NFSW)" onto their Only Fans account and as the likes and tips came rolling in, James chuckled saying "And you though me creating a fantasy account combing naked Musketeers wouldn't make any money!" Larry and Francois laughed as James chuckled "Without it what we are going to do tonight would be impossible. We three are going to travel back to 1642 and become bone fide Musketeers under the tutelage of those brave men we know Henri and Porthos, you never know we might get to meet Aramis and Athos as well, although just so you know Athos is a bear and Aramis is straight as a railroad!" "Shame" replied Larry, "I'd like to show him my red rose!" and with that pretended to ram Francois who pretended to moan "Hide your thorns for I am lost and forlorn" poking fun at one of Aramis's poems that Henri had told them about. As James set about entering the last of the calculations needed to transport them to 1642, he chuckled "And the best part is, the Terminator movies were right, clothes can survive time travel, so we'll arrive naked as well!" *** "Oh, mon chere" moaned Porthos, "the waiting is driving me crazy, I cannot stand it any longer" and with that he dived under Henri's bed, grunted "Lie on it, mon chere" and as Henri did so Porthos raised the whole bed weighing, with his husband on it, some four hundred livres, ten times in a row, holding it at the top of the lift and allowing Henri to note "Mmm, there appears to be something eating the wood in the ceiling, best let the Captain now about that soon!" As Porthos lowered the bed for the tenth time, he suddenly yelped and rolled out stating "That metal ball at the end made me yelp!" "Ah" smiled Henri, as his hair started to stand on end, "I think our guests are arriving" and sure enough a large ball object arrived in front of them that slowly dissipated to reveal James, Larry and Francois, all completely naked and thanks to their incredible machine, now in 1642 and even more muscular than they were. As the three slowly stood up they all flexed their muscles and caused Porthos to moan "Oh, mon dieu, muscles!" and he instantly prostrated himself and cried "My lords, I am not worthy of your presence!" "Yeah!" moaned Francois, hitting a side chest, "You love us this big don't you? Yeah, between us we have a combined mass of 650lbs of lean, powerful, masculine muscle!" "And we are going to use every single bit of it" added Larry, flexing his glutes "Indeed" smiled James, making his quads bulge, "by the end of this week we are going to be Musketeers" and as he relaxed panted "Are our applications in order?" Henri nodded as he handed a parchment over and added "Nothing, bar your deaths, can prevent you taking the..." Henri's sudden stop caused Porthos to look up and as he did he asked "Are you alright?" "Mon chere?" asked Henri, a note of concern in his voice, "Is it me or are my feet disappearing?" "Your feet?" exclaimed James and as he looked down he gasped "No...oh, no, please...Henri, how much you do weigh?" "275 livres, why do you ask?" "And Porthos?" "375 livres" he grunted, thumping his chest, "375 livres of solid man!" "Six hundred and fifty" stammered James and then and then added "No, this wasn't meant to happen!" "What wasn't meant to happen?" asked Henri, his knees now joining his feet in disappearing "The universe hates things changing" explained James, "so when we moved ourselves from 2042 to 1642, that meant that our time was 650lbs lighter and your time was 650lbs heavier, so the universe is compensating by taking 650lbs from 1642 and putting it into 2042, but it was supposed to do so by taking that fatso you told me about recently" "Oh, you mean the brother of the Earl of Exeter?" replied Henri, now vanished up to his waist, "he died last week!" and then suddenly started to grunt in pain. However as Porthos went to help him, he found himself rooted to the spot and his feet disappearing too. "Please, mon amis" wailed James, "you're our mass substitutes, please believe me, I didn't want this to happen!" "You are forgiven, mon amis" replied Porthos as the two men screamed in agony as they completely vanished with a bang leaving two scorch marks on the floor. As Larry, James and Francois looked at each other James whimpered "The Test starts tomorrow, and we have no coaches"
  19. My best friend was always quite a weakling-he was really tall, 6 foot 5, but never weighed more than 165lbs Until he made some changes... I think it all started some years ago. He just turned 16. At this time My body was already quite well developed. My arms were at 15.75 inches, my legs were big and I had some abs and noticeable pecs. That was when I started working out. I often picked on my friend and fun wrestled him as he had no chance against me (I was 6 feet tall- almost 6 inches shorter than him but weighed 170lbs). It was so funny to see him trying to get out of a headscissor or a headlock by using all his strenght. He someday told me not to humiliate him any longer because he’d feel extremely sad and weak... So when he turned 17 he started hitting the gym too. His first half year transformation was insane! He put on 33lbs! From 165 to 198 lbs. His arms swell like nothing I had ever seen, he probably had 13inch arms but now they were at 15.75! (Mine were 17in at this time.) His legs started to show some muscles and his pecs were already as big as mine. He started to show some abs too. So today, 3.5 years later he’s 20 and took going to the gym quite serious - primarily because he wanted to become a better Football player. We ALWAYS went to the gym together but he gained much faster than I did. He pretty soon was able to deadlift 440lbs several times and benchpress 330lbs once. His legs are at 30inches and his chest at 47inches circumference. His arms don’t look like arms anymore- they passed the 19 inch mark as mine rested only at 18. His abs were fucking ripped and his bulging obliques formed an awesome V-line. He weighed 245lbs and had bulging abs. Just imagine that. People were afraid of him, for example when we went out partying and someone was in his way, they immediately apologised. Also tons of girls felt up his arms and pecs as he bounced them well visible under his tshirt in the middle of the dance floor. One day we were at our flat in the city and had some friends over. We were all quite drunk and made fun of each other. I somehow said something stupid about him. He stood up and “fun wrestled” me. But what was fun for him was hell for me. He grabbed my arms, wrapped them around me, threw me onto the couch, sat down on me, wrapped only one of his huge hands around my throat and said:,, Never disrespect me again in front of everyone else” I was shocked. He was fucking strong. Not even I could have finished him that fast three years ago. He could have killed me in less than 15 seconds if he wanted to... As everyone left he came to me. I thought he’d say sorry or something but instead he just said:,, Now I’m the stronger one of us -,,SHRIMP“! The FAR stronger one! It’s my time to humiliate you now!” I was shook. At that point I was really afraid of him, towering in front of me with his huge muscles. I just said ok, and took some steps away from him, turned around and started going to my room. When he just silently said:,,Now is the time to humiliate YOU...” I turned around and saw how he took off his shirt, uncovering his huuuge pecs and ripped abs. I could almost see the blood rushing through the veins on his chest and arms. I was really afraid at this moment. He threw his shirt to me. “Smell it!” “No, why should i?”, I said “Because I am the alpha now! Sooner or later you’ll smell on it!” He ran to me, grabbed my neck from behind and rubbed his shirt into my face. “But why just smell my shirt, if you could smell... ME!” He turned me around and flexed his arm. “Kiss this biceps.” I just looked at him. “KISS IT!” He pushed my head against his peak and flexed it intermittently. He dragged my head from his biceps over his armpit to his pecs and gave me a bearhug. “Stop! You’re hurting me!” I screamed. He just laughed:,, Hahaha! So what?! That’s not even 50% of my strenght!” He tightened the bearhug even more and bounced his meaty, massive, naked pecs into my face. I got really hard and just hoped that he didn’t notice. My trousers were quite loose and that’s when he noticed. “What have we got here? Lil’ omega boy is aroused by some real steel muscles overpowering him?”, he said as he let go of the bearhug. He dropped me onto the couch. He had me in a headlock immediately. He wrapped his huge biceps around my... my.... mouth?! He really was playing with me... as I wanted to bite his biceps he flexed it, laughed and said: ,,Watch out for your teeth, weakling!” He wrapped his arms around my neck now- totally cutting off my air supply. The only thing that didn’t make me pass out was the fact that he flexed and bounced his 19 inch bicepspeak intermittently. But as he stopped I had to tap. He totally let go of me. I was stunned. It could have been that easy?! His arms were almost half way back at him as he wrapped them around y neck again, layed on my back and said:,, Only weaklings tap...” and he made me pass out. I woke up again. All I saw were his massive calves because he put me in a headscissor while I was knocked out. First thing I noticed were all those veins running down his super hairless tree trunk legs. Wait. What was that? He only took off his shirt before?! And he wore a long blue Jean just before he sent me to sleep... Does that mean that he’s... naked...? ,,Ah, so you’re back, twink! Now you get to feel how it is to be totally humiliated.After tensing his massive quads a few times he somehow turned me around so that now my neck was just a bit above his knee I was facing towards his... cock. I could see his massive, vascular 30inch tree trunk legs. But what impressed me at least as much as his muscles was that cock. It was limp, but really thick and already quite long. It was waaay bigger than mine... actually I‘ve never seen such a massive prick, not even in porn He shove it up my throat and I felt it growing in my mouth.... It filled out the whole space in my mouth as it grew bigger and bigger. It was crazy how big it actually was. Because of his massive tree tunk legs and his overall massive frame his dick was much bigger than it seemed. It already almost filled out my mouth as it was limp. But as it got hard I felt it growing down my throat. Inch by inch. I tried to bend my head backwards but his huge quads were in my way. I gagged and nearly suffocated again because I didn’t know what cut off my airway more, his leg muscles which he flexed all the time or his giant cock... As he got fully erected he started talking to me:,, So, lil weakling! U remember when u were the stronger one of us? Those times are over now and will never come back again! I am the alpha now! No, I’m more than alpha... I’m a god!” He grabbed my hair and moved my head, so that I was giving him a blowjob right now. ,,Well twink, just accept it, I am way stronger than you are.” He started moving his hips. ,,I could easily break you into pieces, just look at my arms, man! They are way bigger than yours! Hmm, if I am a muscle god, u should also treat me like one!” He took my left hand and laid it onto his pec. He started bouncing it. After a while he slid my hand over his rock hard abs. Up and down, up and down with his cock still deep down in my throat. I could feel all his masculinity rush through his cock and his pulse beating in those massive muscles. He then loosened the legscissors and slowly moved my head back from his cock. It looked like it never wanted to end. He pulled out and pulled out, i was really amazed that all that fit inside my mouth. It must have been at least 9inches long... I was totally out of breath as he got up to kneel in front of me on the couch. It was so impressive... he started flexing all his muscles. He did a double biceps pose, flexed his rocky abs, bounced his pecs, tensed his traps. Totally naked. ,,Don’t you get it?!”, he shouted at me as he again reached out for my neck and pulled my face to his chest. He rubbed my face all over those gorgeous pecs and abs. ,,You are my little bitch by now! You are supposed to do everything I command you! I mean, you could try to resist but in the end there’s nothing you could do against me...!”, he said. ,,You should clean up my muscles. Too bad I didn’t sweat by wrestling with u... guess I’d have to work out with you now to get started.” He commanded me to get naked too. He then told me to get on his shoulders to do some pullups. My cock was rock hard all the time and pressing against his lower back. As he went down to do some pushups he told me to get on his back. I did so. He started pushing. It still seemed very easy for him. And then I noticed something. I was in the perfect position to get him in a headlock. Should I really dare to do this? It the only way I could show him that I’m not that weak as he says. I slowly moved my arm under his throat, pulled it back to me And locked it with my other arm. I had him. I had this muscle monster in a real headlock- HIS throat against MY biceps. But what was that? Quite unimpressed he just stood up and started running backwards into the wall. He really bumped me in quite hard but I still had him. I could feel him loose his breath and he started to panic a bit. Now he took together all his left over strength and bowed over, throwing me over his head with my back hitting the floor. Fuck. I probably gonna be dead now. He stood up from his kneeling position and what I saw was frightening. His legs and arms as well as his lower abs and chest were totally covered in veins. They were bulging on his totally pumped muscles. He was breathing very hard and heavy. ,,You really shouldn’t have done that! You know what I gotta do now!!!”, he said really angry. He ran over to me, just like a fucking tank, his pecs were jumping with every step. His massive limp dick was bouncing too. He punched me in my stomach making me go to the ground. Then he wrapped his 19inch arms around my neck, adjusted them a bit an flexed them. I was really afraid that he was going to kill me now... I tapped but passed out again... I came back... I wasn’t dead?! I opened my eyes and saw him towering over me. His massive 30inch legs, his huge cock, those swelling ripped abs, his crazy arms and everything was still covered in those thick veins. He truly looked like an animal. ,,I don’t know why you don’t get it weakling! I am the alpha now, I’m almost twice your size, you stand no chance against me!!”, he said. He wrapped both his big muscular long fingers around my neck and lifted me up with his bare hands- choking me at the same time. I was some inches above the ground, just so that my eyes were on the same level as his. He stared into my eyes like a wild beast right before breaking the neck of it’s prey. In a matter of no time he dropped me and held me in a bearhug. I could feel his massive chest and ripped abs on my limp and weakened body... My cock grew rock hard and pressed against his upper quad. ,,U like that?!”, he said as he squeezed me harder. I wanted to say something but I just wasn’t able anymore. I had no air, no strength and was totally done... ,,Awww, lil boy is so exhausted he can’t speak no more... HAHAHAH WHAT A WEAKLING!”, he screamed and tightened the bearhug even more. I felt his monster cock grow bigger and bigger too-pressing against my (much less ripped) abs. He made me pass out again... I wasn’t even aware that a bearhug could make you pass out... As I regained my consciousness I found myself still in his arms. ,,It’s so easy to overpower you. Guess how easy it would be to kill you! But then I’d have nobody to worship my muscles. Well except all those girls...”, he said. He dropped me on the floor and I was amazed by what I saw... A ripped monster with huge bulging muscles all covered in veins - jerking a huge cock... ,,I sweat just a little, twink. But enough for you to clean me up.” He hit a double biceps pose and made me stand up. I didn’t have enough energy to ask or even just say something anymore. I got his point. He was so submissive... I should have done all this three years ago with him... Back when I was able to do that... ,,LICK THEM!”, he said flexing his biceps. I did so. And I loved it. The salty taste of his testosterone loaded sweat. The form of his arms with all those veins... I cleaned his hole body. From his armpit to his massive chest. He bounced it so his pecs would jump a few inches what made it hard to keep my tongue on his skin. I caught a lot of “underboob sweat”. He grabbed my head and lead it around while I licked his washboard abs. I knew that it’s not gonna be enough for him... he pressed me downwards even more. Now my mouth was at those big balls. They smelled really manly. He didn’t even have to command me. I sucked up all his sweat and started swallowing his massive prick. I wanted to give him the best blowjob he ever received... I felt up his muscles with my hands. As I run my fingers down his abs with one hand and worshipped the inside of his huge thighs he came. ,,Mhhhhh... Now you know your place. I don’t allow you to spit it out! Eat it- it’s extra protein for you!” I really loved his taste. I chewed on it and I hope that his testosterone loaded load will give me a boost in strength... I’ll probably suck him off more often, perhaps I’m gonna become as big as him some day....
  20. kibo

    [Español] cuerpo de demonio

    Hola, será mi primera historia para esta gran comunidad, llevo ya tiempo aquí leyendo ideas fantásticas y qusiera yo contribuiré algo para los demás. ya está el primer capítulo, más abajo. Disfruten ;3 Está historia va a estar 100% en español, mi inglés es pésimo pero tienen todo el derecho de traducir a inglés u otros idiomas. Se qué las etiquetas son muy raras, no eh visto mucho de posesión ni de cambios de sexo, por eso quisiera ver qué les parece la idea y así comenzará el proyecto de escribirla. El contexto sería sobre un chico trans que al probar más hormonas no le sienta muy bien y desee intentar otro método para tener el cuerpo que siempre se identificó y más, conquistando el amor de sus sueños por el camino y complaciendo sus fetiches. Más sin embargo hay consecuencias y tendrán que luchar por ello. No planeo muchos capítulos, que sea cortó pero si la gente le gusta, me animo a escribir más. Pospatata xb no veo el apartado de ideas de historias, si pueden mover ésto o decirme qué paso o dónde está los agradecería, uso celular para esto.
  21. LionBUff

    Hanging Herc (full trilogy)

    p1 Homul walked down a dark path behind the town's pub towards a cave deep in the mountains of Greece. The path leads to a farmer's house on the other side of the mountains, but there was a special spot along the trail Hormul was after. A dimly lit cage-like door with the words "Firen Flight" greeted him. The door was covering a cave entirely lit by touches that were at least half burned out. A tall man in a Greek shoulder uniform holding a clay tablet guarded the gate door. "May I come in," Homul asked. The intimidating man looked at his tablet to think about his answer. Homul was worried that the Firen Flight wasn't as secret as he hoped and that he would be told to leave thanks to the crowd. He desperately hoped this wasn't true, he desperately needed a break. A friend of his told him how to get to the secluded Firen Flight deep in the mountains and told Homul that it was his favorite way to relax his mind. The man looked down at his tablet and saw that the Firen Flight was well below capacity. "It's pretty slow tonight, go ahead," The guard told Homul. Homul was so excited that he almost tripped over himself walking in. He walked down the dim cave and turned a few sharp corners before walking into a small room. The room had a wooden stage held up by clay on the further end of the room. Between him and the stage was about 6 round tables with no more than 4 men at each. This room was even dimmer than the cave leading to it, the only bright light came from a single hanging lamp on stage. The rest of the light came from tiny torches on the tables. Homul sat down and ordered his food and drink while he waited. Soon, an announcer walked onto the stage and told the room of men that a special guest was going to appear shortly. Homul's order came, and he enjoyed it... at least half of it. Homul was just a little over halfway done with his meal when Hercules himself walked on stage, looking even more muscular than usual! Hercules was wearing a cloth outfit that looked like a traditional Greek warrior's outfit with everything but the helmet on. Hercules' orange hair swung around in front of his face as he walked to the center of the stage. Homul noticed how little the covering worked when he saw a dim outline of Hercule's abs and chest. When Hercules was comfortable with where he was standing, he rested his unnaturally large arms beside him. "I spend all day using this body to fight off enemies," Hercules said bouncing his chest. "All-day, all I do is fight fight fight." Hercules lifted his arms and flexed his biceps while his chest continued dancing. "Well, gentlemen, this body isn't just built to fight." Hercules lowered his arms and rubbed his abs. The creases in the fabric stretched over every curve on his stomach. "These abs aren't just pretty, they can thrust my waist forwards so fast that my pelvis can pound into solid rick and shatter columns holding up the greatest temples." Hercules spent the next minute or two exaggerating his strength. He said that his chest could squeeze a lemon dry in the deep muscular valley, his legs can squat buildings and that his arms could pull a boat on land. As Hercules described his power, Hormul's mind was filled his visions of Hercules thrusting into buildings. The thought of his pelvis crashing and banging into things made him zone out. Hormel's visions faded when Hormul heard a tearing sound. The tearing was so loud that Hormul almost thought the cave was falling. Something else was falling instead Hercules' hands were resting behind his head, his elbows sticking out in a position that displayed everything below them. Hercule's hands were nowhere near his waist, yet the cloths around his waist were tearing off like an invisible hand was yanking it towards them. The fabric stretched outwards and split open as it did its best to keep the growth contained. Hercules wasn't just getting hard, he was sprouting a golden tree coated with wide and long veins. Hercules closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to help him concentrate on flexing his godly cock. The covering became a useless pile of thread resting along the top of Hercule's dick. The fabrics that remained were shaken off thanks to the golden and veiny rod dancing and throbbing, shaking everything off. Anyone with blurry vision would have assumed a snake was slithering out of Hercules' body. "It's getting a bit warm in here," Hercules cried out. He grabbed the top of his top covering with his right hand and the bottom with his left. He stretched both arms out away from the shirt, the left arm stretched down and the right stretching up. His hands brought the shirt with them. The ripping noise was a battle cry challenging any man to a battle of manhood. Seam by seam gave way to Hercule's strength. The shirt was like a curtain drawing back to reveal a gorgeous new sculpture honoring the gods. Only, Hercules was more muscular than the statues. His abs popped more, along with every other fiber of testosterone Hercules possessed. Pre was already dripping onto the floor into a white puddle. "It's so hot in here, I'm even sweating through my cock," Hercules joked. The crowd chuckled, unable to take their eyes off of the swinging utter of sperm hanging from Hercules. "anyways," Hercules spoke in a low and steady soft voice, "I'd rather show you what this body can do. Talking means nothing with a body beating this much testosterone in its veins." That line was the cue for a boulder to be rolled out on stage by thee assistants. "Let's lighten the load for the fine boys," Hercules suggested walking over to the boulder. p2 Hercules set both feet on either side of the boulder and pressed the head of his cock against the rock. Now that the side of Hercules' body was facing the audience, Homul could see the full length of Hercules' dick. Homul guessed that his cock had to be at least three times longer than his own. He could strap a full-sized horse cock on his body, and the only difference would be the color and the fact that his cock had a human shape. The size and veiny texture were the same for both Hercules' cock and a horse's cock. That and Hercules' balls were noticeably bigger. Homul couldn't help but wonder that if Hercules' gentiles could rival that of a breeding horse, how did his hormones compare? Was Hercules' as horny as a breeding horse? Was he filled with the same animalistic desire to spread his seed? Just like the sound of the tearing of Hercules' clothes, Homul's visions and fantasies of Hercules' body were faded out by the sound of ripping. Only this time, Homul wasn't picturing Hercules thrusting into stone on a building, he was watching Hercules thrust into stone right in front of him on stage. Somehow, it was even hotter than he imagined. Hercules' cock was ripping a hole into the stone like his head was an ax. Hercules didn't even look like jamming his dick into a boulder was painful, he was smiling like he was casually thrusting into any another mate. Dust and sand flew everywhere as Hercules pounded his body into the stone. With each thrust, Hercules dug slightly deeper into the rock. His balls swung around vigorously. No one in the audience said anything. They were soaking up the site of Hercules proving how masculine he was. His ability to rip his clothes off with nothing but his cock seemed like a simple party trick compared to this. When half of the harder than rock cock was inside of the boulder, Hercules speed up his thrusting. Homul didn't realize how slow Hercules was truly hammering his body into the stone until now. Hercules was swinging his waste faster than a tree branch in a storm. With each stroke his cock's head made inside the tunnel, it was digging, an eruption of dust flew out of the hole like a small explosion. A faint humming of sloshing filled the room. Homul didn't know if the wet-sounding humming was coming from Hercules' sweaty cock rubbing against the stone, or the sperm in his utter-like sack slapping against the inner walls of his testicles, or both. "If I could," Hercules calmly told the audience, "I would use my body to fight off our enemies. If my body can drill a hole into a rock like this, imagine what it could do to an enemy's skull! I could grab their head and slam it against my throbbing flesh. Their head would shatter into a thousand pieces!" After Hercules said this, the final few inches of his cock entered the stone. When all of his cock was inside, Hercules calmly inserted his cock into the hole he drilled and rested against the rock. Hercules breathed in and out, and leaned his arms on top of the rock, and Homul assumed this was the end of the show. "That was fun," Hercules said, "But it's still a bit heavy, isn't it?" Hercules pulled out, then hammered one final powerful thrust into the rock. A thunderous cracking sound echoed around the room, and the stone split in half. The two halves of the rock fell, revealing Hercules' cock standing there throbbing like nothing unusual was happening. Hercules grabbed the bottom end of his cock with his left hand and the top end with his right. "Ow," Hercules smirked. The audience quietly laughed. The men from earlier came back on stage and picked up one half of the stone as if it were a simple piece of furniture and carried it off stage. They came back to move the other half of the rock, leaving Hercules alone on stage. Once Hercules had the stage to himself, he quickly stretched a few muscles and turned back around to face the audience. "We know how hard my cock is, but how strong is it," Hercules asked the crowd. That was the cue for 4 full-grown men to walk onto the stage. Each of them were wearing classic Greek Armour, including the helmet. The 4 men, one at a time quietly swung their legs over Hercules' cock as if they were about to ride a horse. Once their bodies were standing over Hercules' giant flesh, they all picked their feet off the ground at the same time. Hercules held the 4 men up with nothing but his cock. His throbbing pole of meat held their weight effortlessly. Hercules even placed both hands behind his back to show off the fact that he was holding them up by only his enormous dick. "How many reps can you do," one of the men asked. Hercules clenched his teeth and flexed his dick, the men rose and fell with his cock. "One," Hercules said through his clenched teeth. Hercules flexed his cock just over 60 times before he told the men that he was getting bored. Hercules was bouncing the men on his pole for nearly 10 minutes, so the men were getting bored too. Hercules showed no sign of tiring out, so they just decided that Hercules could keep bouncing them all night and left the stage. When Hercules had the stage to himself again, he lifted both arms and flew his biceps. His biceps were massive. His left bicep had one singular vein sticking out of the top. "I already know how strong my arms are... but how strong is my body below my arms? Not my abs, my balls. How strong is the pressure behind my ejaculation? How far can I shoot a load?" Hercules kept his left arm flexed and used his right arm to point to the back of the room. A man is the same Greek Armour as the other 4 men was holding a Greek vase above his head. "Maybe this far," the man suggested. Hercules lowered his arms, placing his left hand on his balls and his right on his still-hard cock. He jerked his foreskin and measured the distance between the end of his meat and the top of the vase. "Maybe," Hercules said, "but I'll need help if I'm gonna make it that far." Two men walked out onto either side of the stage, both of them brought a small wooden stool with them. Each stool was slightly shorter than Hercules' waist. Both men sat down cracked their knuckles while Hercules rested his arms on their shoulders. "Ready," the man on the left asked. "Fire away boys," Hercules cried out. The man on the left grabbed Hercules' dick with both hands and jerked it so hard that the rubbing of the foreskin against the rod underneath sounded just like a small waterfall. The other man grabbed each testicle in each hand and squeezed the like a cow's utter. Hercules moaned, nearly losing control of his voice. He knew the men were going to do this, but he was still taken away by how aggressive they were. It didn't take long for pre to drip out. "Here it comes!" Hercules positioned his waist upwards so that his imminent ejaculation would shot towards the ceiling. Hercules felt weaker and weaker while his body braced. White liquid dripped from his cock very slowly for a few brief moments. It dripped out slowly, one drop growing on the tip until it was heavy enough to fall. The next round of pre drizzled out in small bursts. One small load after another flowed out, each load heavier than the load most men carry in their entire sack. Next thing Homul knew, a white arch stretched across the room so far that it 2 feet went past the man holding the vase. White raindrops dripped from the white arch creating a white line on everything underneath. Hercules was ejaculating with so much strength that he wasn't just shooting further than even he expected, but the stream of his seed was one solid river soaring over everyone's head. For more time than anyone could count, Hercules spewed seed with more force than a backed-up volcano. A large portion of Hercules' male milk missed the vase, yet it was over half full when Hercules finally stopped ejaculating. The two men massaged Hercules, assuming that eruption was painful. "Round two," Hercules asked the crowd. p3 The next night, Homul walked back to the Firen Flight only to discover that the previous guard, along with Hercules, weren't there. "Sorry little dude," the new guard told Homul as he hung his head in disappointment. Homul was so disappointed that he could almost feel his meat crawl into his waist from being so turned off. "he'll probably be back tomorrow," the new guard told him with a reassuring grin. Homul grinned back to be polite. "Thanks," he said and walked away. Homul's feet felt heavier as he dragged them back into town. He walked through the dark countryside of Greece remembering everything Hercules did on stage with little to no effort. He could hear all of the men in the room cheering Hercules on. In fact, he really could hear someone scream Hercules. He thought it was all in his head until the screaming and cheering for Hercules became too loud for him to ignore. these screams weren't in his head... they were real... but where were they coming from? they weren't coming from his own horny mind, they were coming from someone's horny voice outside of his mind. Homul followed the soft and muffled screams to a river hidden deep in the Greek mountains. The sound seemed to be riding inside the mist rising from a waterfall upstream. The waterfall was loud, but the moans of Hercules' name were louder. Homul walked up to the waterfall certain that they were coming from under the waterfall. "Are you ok," a voice that sounded like Hercules asked from under the waterfall. "I've taken centaurs dozens of times," a voice that reminded him of the guard from last night responded. As Homul snuck up closer the voice continued with "but they feel like tiny fingers compared to you... ok... wow... that's way bigger than anything I've ever taken before!" Something interrupted the voice's train of thought. He could barely get one word out. Homul was now so close that he could see a torchlight from under the water. He discovered that the light was coming from a tunnel under the waterfall. The tunnel walls echoed the heavy breathing of who he assumed was the guard buried under Hercules. "The centaurs might be half horse but they aren't half god... are they?" This confirmed that he was truly hearing the voice of Hercules echo out of the tunnel. "No... they, they, they aren't," the other voice chocked up. "I can feel the difference... centaurs are softer than this!" "How hard can Hercules get," Homul asked himself. "I can see the difference too... your head is poking out and rolling up and down my stomach like a boulder is rolling around my insides!" This was too much for Homul to ignore. He quietly walked into the cave to see this rolling bulge for himself. when Homul cut the corner of the cave he realized the guard wasn't kidding. The two men were on a cheap and quickly-built looking bed, and you really could see Hercules poking through like a ball rolling up and down his skin. The shadows created by the dimly burning torch on the wall behind the bed defined the moving lump in the guard's body. Homul slowly hardened as he watched. Hercules was in the outfit he was most famous for, but the loose bottom half of the outfit did next to nothing to keep Hercules "contained." Hercules was wearing his usual covering, yet, somehow, Homul could still see his balls flapping around. His sack reminded him of clothes drying on a windy day... they were thrown around all over the place. Were his testicles bigger than before? They seemed to be covered in more veins too. Homul assumed his cock was even veinier too, but he couldn't be sure because it was deep inside the guard. "I'm really, close... I'm sorry," Hercules apologized in a sincere voice that was still erotic. "We've been here for a while," the guard said shocked. He took a few more breaths and said "How have you not cum already? I would have cum three times by now!" Hercules was clearly about to say something, but his ejaculation interrupted him. Homul could hear Hercules' cum slapping against the guard's stomach. The bulge in the guard's stomach grew so plump that it covered Hercules' cock completely. His stomach rose and rose as Hercules seemed to have no limit. How much sperm can one man hold? His balls were huge but they didn't look like they held THAT much. When Hercules finished, he rubbed the guard's swollen belly to calm him down. The guard's face was red, bright red, but he was still grinning. The guard loved every last sperm cell filling him up. He felt a million degrees warmer... like he swallowed the sun whole... and he loved it. "God's can't impregnate men right?" Hercules laughed without answering. "Maybe," he said. Hercules pulled his cock out and let his load flow out of the guard's hole. His stomach flattened as the cum poured out like white molasses. "What does that mean," he asked Hercules with a shaky voice. "It's happened before. A god's seed is so strong that it can fuse with the sperm of another man and breed just as much as it would breed a female. "Ok," he said, "I would love your offspring inside of me anyways. If I do get pregnant, I want to breed an army with you. We could impregnate the land with warriors like you impregnate me. "Don't have to tell me twice," Hercules said gripping his testicles... as if to say he wants to breed that army right now.
  22. MUSCLE MATING SQUIRT "I should have never taken that bet at the gym" Oliver, a 300-pound bodybuilding male deer, thought to himself. "Come on Oliver. What are you scared of? Big bucks like yourself can't be scared of a challenge!" It's my fault for listening. I could have left that locker room long before I dug myself into a hole almost as deep as this monster is digging into me. But I just had to prove I was bigger than Magno. That half-orc half manotaur hybrid beast was huge, but I didn't think he'd be bigger than me. Bucks like me are huge, our male figures are seen as thick veiny trophies to all who lay down with us bucks. I guess I'm not the biggest after all. SQUIRT 15 inches was 3 inches too short. When Magno and I agreed "smallest would bottom" I never expected any man to ever pack an 18-inch cock between their legs. I guess that orc manotaur mix got both specie's huge dick genetics. SQUIRT Now he's at my house... stuffing me like a jelly donut. What makes this worse is that even his loads are bigger than mine. This male has already squirted 10 squirts in me and hasn't stopped thrusting his 18-inch dick into me yet. I don't even think Magno has slowed down. It hurt at first, I felt like a telephone pole was being shoved up my core, but all that lubrication from his 10 squirts has made things a lot easier. SQUIRT 11 now. That squirt had to be the biggest yet. I felt that squirt up in my chest that time. I want Magno to think he's only a little more manly than me but even I couldn't breed like this. I'm sure I would have cum all the water in my body by now and this stallion still has cum to spare. I can't lie to myself any longer, he makes me look like a twig. SQUIRT. That one hurt. That squirt drizzled the back of my throat. I only felt a few drops splash against my throat but I didn't know his load would go that deep into me. Things are about to get a lot worse, aren't they? He's grunting a lot more now. His hands just tightened their grip on my legs. I can feel his cock throbbing faster now. These 12 squirts were only pre? Ok, he's slowing down now, what does that mean? Wait, I can feel his rod shaking, why is it shaking so much? WOSH It felt like all of the cum he had left blew out of his dick in one burst that was strong enough to shake my bed. I don't know how much cum he dumped into me but It was enough to make me feel like I gained 50 pounds. His sperm swam through every limb and every joint. Magno's seed is basically my blood now. I wouldn't be surprised if my body has more of his seed than my own blood. This doesn't worry me though, I can't imagine how much pure protein and testosterone I just soaked up. By this time tomorrow, my male hormones will be through the roof. This much male milk might even help me gain a few inches. It would be amazing if this cum can all swim down to my own cock and swell me up. Maybe next time Magno can dock me and make my balls bigger than my head. If I soak up this genetically gifted male's seed regularly I bet I could gain some of his genetics. I bet his protein could make my muscles unstoppable. "That was fun," Magno said holding my legs above me. "Are you done already," I said teasing him. "You couldn't dump half that much cum if I hooked you up to a milking machine!" I laid there for a few seconds to catch my breath before I clapped back. "Maybe I can if you keep filling me up like this," I told Magno winking. "I might have to," he told me winking back. Magno set my legs back down so that my knees were on the edge of my bed and he leaned down. Magno put both arms under my shoulder blades, put his head down next to mine, and squeezed my chest into his. He gripped my muscles into his muscles like my buff body was his new body pillow. I was exhausted from being flooded with his seed, but I managed to build up the strength to hug Magno back. "I'm glad you took up that challenge," Magno whispered. I thought he was being sweet until he said "I knew I was bigger and you proved it. Now all the guys in the locker room will stop asking!" "You're only bigger by three inches," I reminded him. Magno laughed and gripped my body again. I gripped him back. We fell asleep in that position. As I laid there under Magno's boulder-like body, I felt trillions of sperm tails swimming around my body... all swimming towards my chest. The liquid from the seamen felt like it was soaking into my muscles as the muscles extracted the protein and testosterone from Magno's slimy meal, but I could very clearly feel the sperm migrate to my chest. The muscles that absorbed the liquid felt mostly normal when they swallowed his gooey flood, but my chest felt like it was swelling up. There were so many sperm cells piling up in my chest that it felt like his seed was fertilizing my chest muscles. A noticeable lump began to form on either side of my chest that grew bigger as more sperm swam up my body to join in. Did Magno impregnate me? Was this alpha male's sperm so strong that it planted his offspring in me? As I laid there, feeling his sperm grow bigger in my chest and countless sperm cells travel through me, I thought about why they would gather in the chest. Then I realized that the chest, especially one as solid as mine, was actually the perfect spot on a male's body to grow offspring. The chest muscles are huge and can swell up without getting in the way of the male's daily life. Multiplying in the arms or legs would strain a male's body too much, and the abdominal muscles were too small. The chest made the most sense, and it was where Magno's sperm gathered. As Magno laid on top of me, wrapping his stiff muscles around me like a warm blanket, his solid body reassuringly held my muscular body. If Magno did impregnate me, this massive male was ready to multiply with me. He liked me, that was obvious, or he wouldn't be holding me so close. He probably would have at least pulled his cock out before he slept on top of me, if not slept next to me instead of on top, for that matter.
  23. Omnipotence

    My roommate is a god (parts 1 - 4)

    Hello everyone. Long time viewer/reader, first-time writer. A little nervous about it, so any and all constructive feedback is welcome! This part is really only meant to be a taster of sorts. I'm 110% open to change. Let me know what you think; super excited that I'm finally contributing! Without further ado: __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Part 1: Tom was hovering in midair. He casually motioned his hands back and forth, as if he was conducting some sort of invisible orchestra. In reality, he was using his telekinesis to clean the living room effortlessly and in record time. Empty pizza boxes were pulled upward by an invisible force where they were instantly vaporized into nothingness. Stains off all varieties were simply removed from existence. Empty soda cans were melted into liquid form, which was then dispersed into the surrounding atmosphere. And throughout it all, Tom wasn't even looking at any of it. He was staring absentmindedly out the window. Such was the ease of this godly display of power that he didn't even need to devote his full attention to it. I simply sat and watched his nonchalant display of power with my usual awe. I suppose I could've helped, but how the hell is a measly little human like me supposed to add to this?! Within a minute of initiating the clean, Tom was finished. He turned in midair, hover over to the couch, and lowered himself down onto it. "All done" he said with a smile. His voice was impossibly beautiful and sexy. A deep baritone, masculine voice. "Thanks" I said, trying to pretend I wasn't intimidated my his godhood. Probably wasn't working though. Tom could just read my mind if he wanted to. "Want me to send you to sleep now?" Tom asked, his remarkable blue eyes filling me with a sense of comfort and safety as we made eye contact. I knew what he meant, and what he intended to do. With my mouth instantly going dry, and my body shaking from anticipation, all I could do was nod feebly. Tom stood up, walked to the center of the room, and turned to face me. With a simply wave of his hand, all of his clothes except for his form fitting, jet-black briefs disintegrated. His godly muscles were on display. Tom was 6'8'', and when he wasn't altering his density of using his flight power, he would normally weigh around 300 - 320 pounds. I began working my way down. His shoulders were massive. Powerful, rippling masses the size of cinder-blocks, with prominent traps that my whole hand could just barely cover. His pecs were next. Each one was the vision of perfection. Slabs of concrete; almost perfectly square, beefy, and large enough to cup. Like everything else, they rippled. He bounced them effortlessly, yet could also make them rock-solid at a moment's notice. His whole chest: 60'' His arms were of a similar make. Massive, 25'' machines that I've seen lifting impossible weights. Veins running through them, looking like steel cables, running down into his formidable looking forearms. His biceps and triceps were equally beautiful. His abs were the definition of beauty. A rippling, rock-hard eight pack, where each individual ab was arrogantly prominent, and the deep cuts that ran between them only emphasized how sculpted they were. Although I couldn't see if from where I sat, I have seen his back. His perfect, v-shaped back. Powerful mounds and ridges of muscle covering it all, guiding you slowly to his 33'' waist. And lets not forget to mention the glutes that it leads to. Two bulletproof hemispheres of pure muscle (and no, I'm not exaggerating). His legs put tree trunks to shame. 31'' thighs corded with titanium veins, towering above 24'' diamond-shaped calves. All of this balancing on bizarrely beautiful, size 15 feet. Of course, as a god, Tom's whole body was free of all forms of blemishes and other such imperfections. His skin was smooth and supply; an easily missed detail on account of the muscle that lay beneath. At the moment he had no body hair, although he could if he wanted to. But he wanted to make sure that I could see every striation, every subtle flex as clearly as possible. And so the light dusting of hair that sometimes coated his chest and forearms was willed out of existence. "Ready?" he said, smirking. I would try to describe the beauty of his face, but I don't think the necessary words actually exist. I gulped. Without taking his eyes off of me, he bounced his pecs. It was effortless for him. All other parts of his body stayed motionless; only his magnificent pecs moved. Their dance became increasingly complex; the two mounds moving to a rhythm like no other. Sometimes they bounced in unison, sometimes one at a time, and sometimes they alternated. My cock was as hard as stone. Suddenly, without warning, Tom tensed his abs. My description of them before described them in a non-flexed state. Imagine now what they looked like. Pre-cum soaked my pants. I hadn't even touch myself yet. And I knew I wasn't going to. Tom hit me next with a double biceps. Their peaks! If he had flexed just a bit harder they would've sent out a shock wave. His most muscular was next. His pecs... I began to convulse; my cock couldn't contain my arousal anymore. I came. He made me, without either of us touching it. Such was the beauty of his body and face. He smiled sweetly at me as I slowly began to lose consciousness from the strength of the orgasm. With a single hand and arm, Tom grabbed a fistful of my shirt's collar and smoothly lifted me from the couch. My 5'9'' frame dangled pathetically as he held me at arm's length with such ease. He bent his arm as he slowly brought me in from a kiss on the forehead, still holding me in the air all the while. His other arm simply hung at his side. Throughout all of this, my cock was still sputtering out small amounts of cum, dampening my already soaked underpants and jeans. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning" he whispered in my ear, as I finally lost complete consciousness from the orgasm. I passed out at the end of Tom's arm; he still held me as if I weighed the same as a balloon. The last thing I remember was the feel of my own feet dangling in the air. My arms hanging limp at my sides. My chin brushing the side of Tom's hand that gripped my shirt's collar before my head fell to the side. My whole body rendered weak and useless from the hundred orgasms Tom caused me to have in the space of a minute. I loved that feeling. My name is Frank, and this is the story of how I came to meet my roommate Tom. Who, by the way, happens to be an actual god.
  24. demon577

    dating site

    I know I have a lot of history that has just started but I’m starting yet another one, like those that follow me, but history all have different themes, but they are all on the same subject, the muscles, the adoration, brutality, human crushing, fetishes, so like my other stories it has hard content. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ chapter 1: presentation my name is quentin, i am 30 years corpulent, 1m75 for 95kg I'm passive gay with lots of fetishes, but I'm so shy that I didn't realize any, I like muscles and would see them again, I also dream of being crushed by force but also in muscles, I even imagine the superhero superman sometimes squeezing me with that super-strength, but alas I look at muscular men discreetly so I don't see many, serte I could see them in the weight room, but I'm so shy that I do not enter this building because just the sight of their stature makes me draw up the penis (small penis), but another fetish sound on the smells like the sweat of the armpits after a training session or that which did not have have been washed for a long time, the smell of fart, the smell of sweat on other parts of the body, you also like brutal men who are without embarrassment even more those of the profession of police or military because their uniform makes them comemd are monsters and men who give orders, you also dream of a man with the longest and the biggest penis who demolished your ass, but hey you never did it so you don't know how it is. you even did research to learn about the issue, you read case because of their nutrition, their fart was big bomb and feels very bad for this that these men do not fart in public, they are also often furry certainly it looks prettier but it is mainly because of sweating because muscle men sweat a lot more than a normal man is it smells much stronger if they have hairs (armpits, pecs, etc) sweat and the smell will be even more horrible. one thing that you know about yourself is that you have a gift because you cannot die without having blood, but you can even suffer with the same feelings as a normal person and your body reform afterwards for a moment so if you crash flat you will scream during the procedure of being crushed is to have the same feeling as a normal man except that at the moment when the normal man passed out or died you are still happy and can still speak so even you flat and conscious, for the smell you will learn that it is the same thing a bad smell that can faint or kill will just make you scream and hurt. you had already looked for several gay dating site to try to find muscular man and to achieve some fetiche my alas you do not find because it was rare or it is man did not want to do what you like, then one day you receive in your mail is some kind of advertisement for a special gay dating site like name "Musclor" you were intrigued because the ad showed just a muscular man and a skinny man you skeptically click on the link because you were afraid it was a scam, a fake site, once you get to the page you see a familiar logo that goes up free but also certify that reassures you then you go to who we are for know that she is the concept of this site, it is written "You are a muscular man looking for a shrimp or you are a shrimp who is looking for a muscular man, this site is there for you, create your profile and get back to you announcement, this site but in relation it is nobody to carry out an appointment in the real life but attention the shrimp can see that the profile of the muscular man, it is also possible to make plan has several but that several muscular man with a shrimp, it is sticketement prohibited to ask for money, it has that 1 means of contact which is the cat but do not worry you all the world remains on line h24 is when have you contact by chat and that you are not connected you received the message by sms which you s allows you to respond directly by sms (free sms) which allows you to be always reachable but also to be able to continue these conversations without being afraid of missing anyone. " you were blown away by this message and you already knew what you will write in the announcement of your profile
  25. Ultram0th

    Ultram0th's Snippets

    I'm a bit unsure of where else to post this, but I created a few short image stories based on random pictures/morphs that are online (I didn't take the pictures nor did I create the morphs, credit for those go to the artists). Here are a few I'd like to share with you all. If you like them and would like to see more stuff, I post stuff on my Tumblr Account at: http://ultram0th.tumblr.com 1. Mysterious Man: “You always wear skin-tight clothing… why not save time?”, Victim: “Hey?! What happened to my clothes, why am I naked?!” Mysterious Man: “What clothes? You always walk around naked, showing off that perfect ass to every man in town.” Victim: “B-but, I’m not gay… and wh-what about my…?” 2. “Holy crap! You’re Jackson Gunn!” an excited voice exclaimed from behind the muscled hunk. Jackson looked away from the vegetable oil he was examining in the grocery store, giving a customary smile to the nerdy looking guy who stood wide-eyed behind him. The skinny guy ran his excited eyes up and down his muscled frame, obviously admiring the muscles that were hidden behind the polo and denim jeans that the man now wore since he was just out and about on his daily life. “Nice to meet a fan,” Jackson said, quickly turning away to resume his grocery shopping. Sure the hunk stripped and did several videos online, but the cocky alpha guy persona was just an act he put on for the cameras when he was at work. But when he was off the clock, he just wanted to do normal things without being bothered. “I hope I’m not bothering you,” the nerd continued, making Jackson purse his lips, “but could I get a picture of you? My friends will never believe that I ran into THE Jackson Gunn if I don’t get a pic.” Jackson was about to tell the guy to fuck off, but figured that it couldn’t hurt to grow his fanbase. “Sure,” he huffed,” setting his grocery basket down onto the ground and flexing his arms upwards to form a double biceps pose, his massive biceps curling out of the small sleeves of his polo. The nerd smirked and pulled out his phone, taking a picture with the flash on… it was actually really bright and even left the muscle hunk a little dazed. He blinked away the spots in his vision, annoyed with the whole ordeal and ready to finish his shopping so he could just go home. “I hope that works out for you,” he grunted. “It sure did,” the nerd replied, a smile detectable in his voice. When Jackson’s vision finally cleared, he cocked his eyebrow to find that instead of just dropping his pose, he moved to another one, pivoting the smallest bit to form a side-chest pose, the buttons nearly popping off of his shirt. At first he thought that it was just habit, muscle memory from one of his stripping routines, but the stud was soon horrified to realize that he couldn’t stop posing. Like it had a mind of its own, Jackson was shocked to feel his own arms tear his tight shirt away from his body, his hands even beginning to fumble with the button on his jeans. “What the fuck?” he cried out. “Why can’t I control my body?” The nerd chuckled. “I figured that you could just give me a private show… whenever I want.” Jackson’s eyes widened as he opened up one of the containers of vegetable oil, dosing his chest in the shiny liquid, smearing it all over his rippling muscles to accentuate their roundness. He grit his teeth as he fought with all his might to stop squirming around and flexing, but all to no avail. When he thought it couldn’t get worse, the stunned hunk dropped his pants and twerked his giant ass towards the nerd, all the while his hands tugged at his nipples. He pleaded with himself to stop, but his body was no longer his to control, it was now the nerd’s, and he was practically his puppet now. Things only went downhill for the stud when he tore away his boxers, leaning over and shoving his fingers deep inside his hole, moaning loudly for the whole store to hear. Every man in the store was attracted by the hunk’s moaning, and rushed over to enjoy the impromptu show. Jackson’s moaning face was red with embarrassment as he fingered himself in public, unable to stop behaving like a muscle slut 24/7 now. 3. Eddie rolled his eyes at himself, cursing at himself for forgetting his body wash back in his locker as he was already in the shower stall, naked with his bulging muscles slick with water. “Dammit,” he hissed, annoyed with the minor inconvenience of getting out and so forth. “You good?” the person in the next stall asked him. “Yeah,” Eddie grunted, just forgot my body wash.” He was about to turn off the water to retrieve it when the shower neighbor reached over the stall, handing him a clear bottle that was filled with a pinkish goo. “Here, use mine,” he said. Eddie shrugged his massive shoulders and graciously took the offered bottle, lathering himself up in the sugary-scented soap, shaking his head at the odd smell. As he rinsed it off, he felt a slight tingling in his ass, but shook it off seeing as how he’d done a lot of squats today. The tingling grew stronger with each passing second, resonating from deep within his ass… almost as if it were deep within his hole, like a scathing itch begging to be scratched. “Wh-what the fuck?” Eddie groaned as he gritted his teeth, the tingling morphing into a full on vibration, demanding attention, nearly bringing the bodybuilder to his knees. “Oh… oh shit!” he panted, leaning his head against the tiles of his shower stall, instinctively pushing his sensitive ass out into the air, even the drips of water flowing over its roundness sending jolts of pleasure throughout his body. “What’s happening to me?” His stomach dropped as he felt his cheeks shudder and his thigh muscles stretch as if they were being pulled. He hesitantly looked over his shoulder, his jaw dropping as he watched his already impressive ass grow out from behind his, filling out into the perfect bubble butt which swayed and jiggled behind him. With shaking hands, Eddie reached behind him and grabbed a hold of his enlarged cheeks. “Fuuuuucckkkk,” he moaned deeply, his cock standing at attention at the mere touching of his cheeks. His shower curtain ripped open and a man was standing there with a grin on his face. “I’ve always admired your ass, Eddie,” he smiled. “I just thought you could use a little adjustment.” The other man fell to his knees and in one swift motion, spread Eddie’s huge asscheeks apart and buried his face in them, lapping at his puckered hole. Eddie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out as he was overcome with the tidal waves of pleasure that washed over him. His new ass was massive and it was more sensitive than his cock… which slowly began to inch its way into his body, shrinking until it was no more than two inches long. Not that it mattered. Eddie would never get off with his cock, only able to achieve any sort of orgasm by having his ass played with or stuffed full from now on. The now bottom-heavy bodybuilder didn’t have time to panic about his new growth and loss; instead he rolled his head back as he loudly moaned, unable to concentrate on anything besides the other man’s face in between his giant cheeks. -- -- -- I hope that you all enjoy what I have to show, there's more on my Tumblr if you'd like to check it out! And I'm always looking forward to any criticism so I can improve! Thank you!
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