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  1. Here's another new story. This one had been inspired by a new friend on this forum who's encouraged me to write about those men who want to grow well beyond what is thought to be possible. They desire to not only grow but to become truly grotesque muscular creatures. I hope you enjoy. Become One Chapter 1 I shouldn’t be here. I look up at the large banner hanging from the ceiling of the convention room that reads “MuscleFest Fitness Expo”. I have barely taken two steps into the room and I’m already overwhelmed. So much jacked muscle and that’s just the people walking around the expo. I worry I’m going to loose my mind when I see an actual professional bodybuilder. I contemplate just turning and walking away but I take a minute to calm myself down. I start to walk around the room, passing the first few booths and realize that I’m practically invisible in this crowd. The only people getting any attention are the legitimate bodybuilders and fitness fanatics. That both settles my nerves and makes me feel pathetic all at the same time. The place is packed with people and on more than one occasion, I’m bumped in the shoulder by a far larger individual who probably didn’t even notice me. At 5’9” and 175lb, I’m hardly a formidable presence in this setting. I see a seating area off to the side and decide to sit down for a bit and try to relax. It took three years to work up the courage to finally buy a ticket to this expo and here I was, too scared to even enjoy it. This was a dream come true for me. I was in the presence of all the bodybuilding stars I’ve admired my whole life and I was messing it all up. I know I’m being hard on myself but I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here. I sure all the people only see a skinny, gay, muscle obsessed loaner. I sink deeper into the chair and pull out my phone. I bring up Instagram and instantly I’m confronted by a constant stream of muscle. But it’s not your run-of-the-mill bodybuilder muscle, it’s the most extreme muscle. I scroll through images of the biggest, most incomprehensibly massive men on the planet. These men have biceps bigger than people’s waists, chests as thick as they are tall and quads so gargantuan, they can barely even waddle, let alone walk. It’s been this way for me for as long as I can remember. While I appreciate big muscle in all its forms, I’ve always been drawn to the more extreme level of muscle mass. I’m both fascinated and aroused by the men that have taken their muscle obsession to the absolute limit. I scroll past numerous high quality morphs that have artistically enhanced already massive beasts well past what is considered possible. I pause when I see a new post from the person who is the real reason I’m finally here appear on my screen. Alan “The Destroyer” Wilson. I feel my mouth go dry as I stare intensely at the image. At only 5’8”, Alan is the epitome of extreme muscular development. He recently posted that he weighed 325lbs with 7% body fat. To say he was big would be a complete understatement. I can only describe Alan as a grotesque abomination of what is considered normal, even by bodybuilding standards. In the image, he’s standing by a fan while they have their picture taken. The poor soul standing by him almost looks scared to be so close to such a massive creature. In most circles, the fan would be considered a jacked up bodybuilder, but next to Alan he looks weak and pathetic. While a number of inches taller, he pales in comparison. But it’s Alan that I’m focused on. I almost have to stifle a moan. I stare at his quads and calves first. He’s wearing sweat pants but rather than being baggy, they are stretched so tight I can see thick veins running in every direction. His feet are spread very far apart to accommodate his barrel-thick thighs but Alan’s calves appear to almost be touching. Each muscle is so enormous they expand numerous inches from both sides of his shines. I can’t see Alan’s knees because the meat hanging from his quads totally eclipses them. My eyes travel up the quads and marvel at the level of definition I can see through the thick fabric of his pants. It’s obvious that one of Alan’s quads is twice as thick as the fans legs combined. I snicker as I look at what Alan is attempting to wear on this upper body. I say attempt because it’s virtually impossible to hide the terrifying mass he processes. He’s wearing a shirt so huge it looks like it was once a blanket that he’s cut a hole for head to fit through. The billowing fabric cannot hide the sheer volume of his pecs, shoulders and arms. The hole is cut wide enough to allow his traps to be completely visible. I bit my lip as I stare at the cable-thick trap muscles erupting from the sweater. They encompass his head to such an extreme degree, Alan does not appear to have a neck. I wonder how he can even move his head with so much muscle surrounding it. I finally settle on Alan’s face. There is nothing most people would consider attractive about it. The extreme quantities of chemicals Alan has poured into his body for years has caused his facial features to become as distorted as the rest of his body. His jaw is square and so thick, it looks like he’s chewing on a cinder block. His forehead protrudes far beyond normal and he is completely bald. The most shocking feature of Alan’s face and head are the veins. Thick veins criss-cross most of the surface, only enhancing his grotesque appearance. While most would consider him downright hideous, I only see the side effects of his dedication to become a monster and I cannot look away. To me, he’s the most beautiful specimen on the planet. I take a screenshot of the image and file it into an album titled “Freaks”. I slowly scroll through the collection of images I’ve accumulated over the years. While most of the images are of Alan, there are many other massive bodybuilders and ever more morphed images. I finally tear myself away from my phone and glance across the expo floor. The different supplement and clothing brand booths stretch as far as I can see. I feel my heart skip a beat when, not more than 50 feet away, I see the same logo that is displayed behind the image of Alan I was just looking at. The absolute epitome of all my muscle fantasies is somewhere over there. My palms start to sweat as the reality of the situation sinks in. I consider just bolting for the front door. Suddenly my mind is racing with a thousand thoughts. Why haven’t you gotten serous about the gym? Why are you such a creep, looking at pictures of huge men but not doing anything to build your own body? You know everyone here thinks you’re a joke. Before I know it, I’m walking in the opposite direction of the booth I know Alan is located at. I feel sweat on my forehead and the crowd suddenly seems to grow exponentially. I’m being shoved by people twice my size. My heart is pounding in my chest. I see an exist sign and partially run towards it. I find myself in a dim hallway where I lean against the wall, pull my legs to my chest and rest my head on my knees. I feel like crying but I try to ficus on my breathing instead. After a few minutes, I’m feeling a little calmer but I decide that this was huge mistake. I stand up and start walking further down the hallway, looking for an exit door. I turned a corner and grab the first door knob I see. I open the door a walk through hoping I’ll step onto the street and get a lung-full of fresh air. Instead, I stop dead in my tracks because two feet in front of me is Alan “The Destroyer” Wilson.
  2. Greetings, Nice to see a place for being a tall bodybuilder. As I have experienced, being a tall bodybuilder is a lot more tough than being a 5'6" or 5'10" bodybuilder. I'm 6'2" and now at 268 lbs. bodybuilder. I have been up to 295 lbs. as a powerlifter and at that time, I was being sponsored so the additional income allowed me to put on a lot of size. But I still want to hit the 305-310 mark now as a bodybuilder. Putting on muscle size is still tough for me. I have to take appetite enhancers to stimulate my wanting to stuff myself. Luckily, I have been bodybuilding for a while and have lived in Los Angeles and Houston and have learned a lot from other bodybuilders. You can't do bodybuilding alone.
  3. roboprobo

    m/m Bro Fam

    Eventually, you RELISHED your growth going out of control. Sure, you'd officially flunked out of your second year of college but economic analytics was harder than you anticipated... Thankfully, you were very lucky to have such a strong group of bros to support you. And they certainly did- when you initially told them you'd wanted to start working out more seriously, they actually gave you bags of supplements and 'lifestyle' tapes. The tapes were weird (all about 'motivation', working out, or dieting) and even when you always found yourself waking up towards the end of them you'd watch them religiously. Hell, the guys eventually started making your meals for you, too and it didn't take long for the gym to become second nature for you. You got BIG. Your confidence burst through the roof and you were cocky or even mean; you deserved it! Nobody could have gotten as jacked as you, nor as strong. Regardless, you were always kind to your bros. They were the ones making you big, too. Hell, after a while you started feeling like they worshiped you, in a weird, communal way. Each one would bring you a can of weird beer of a brand you couldn't pronounce and of course you'd end up shotgunning it as a challenge. At some point doorways were becoming a challenge due to your width- that's when the guys would laugh at your wide, stumbling gait but still help you get upstairs to bed. The side effects made EVERYTHING bigger. Some of the bros bought you new shoes every time your feet started getting cramped in your current pair. One day you'd dozed off again after a weird lifestyle tape, waking up with an excess of morning wood and one of your younger buddies sucking on your long toes. You felt embarrassed but there was something about when he asked you to flex for him that kept you laying comfortably on your increasingly smaller bed. He'd ask you questions about wanting your growth and if you liked it; you'd answer with honesty as you milked your fat cock, his chuckle making you smile naively as he moved to massage your huge feet and massive legs. You were getting massive and it felt awesome! All you could really think about was getting bigger and having fun with your bros. After a while it wasn't weird at all to find yourself flexing or working out in the basement, naked, and you consistently found yourself serving the guys however they asked. You almost cried when the school told you you'd failed all your classes; you couldn't even remember the last time you'd even gone. The guys told you it didn't matter, you could still live at the house and to not even sign up for another semester if you didn't want to. So you didn't bother with school. Hell, you used to consider yourself a rather smart guy but nowadays you could barely keep up with complex conversations your bros have at home. The guys would laugh when you gave a ditsy comment and tell you to show of your tits instead. You'd happily peel up (or ripped off) your shirt, showing off your massive pecs. You loved showing off, after all! They called you a good 'himbo' and directed you to administer twice the doses of supplements you were accustomed too. You explained to them your pectorals were seemingly increasing size even faster than the rest of your body, feeling sore almost every day. They gladly began giving you more thorough daily 'massages'. Nowadays you find yourself practically shaking the earth beneath your heavy steps, your quads and hams so wide you have to move in an awkward waddle. Your time is religiously spent in the basement gym or with your loving bros. Sure, they graduate and new ones come in, but you always find tight relationships with them. The guys worship your massive, sweaty body and always make sure you're well-taken care of. You've lost track of how many years have gone by and sometimes wonder if you're not really getting any older, either. You're fucking huge. Sometimes the guys are sweeter and love letting you strut around with a proper alpha male cockiness. Others are meaner, tricking you into tight situations or letting your huge pecs go without milking for days at a time, letting you murmur in discomfort like a proper bull in heat as your pecs start looking overdeveloped even for your massive frame. A rare few actually manage to fit your huge cockhead in their mouths. Some manage to fit you inside them (dangerously) but most often you enjoy feeling a bro sniffing and lapping your hairy, muscled pucker before stretching it out with their fat bro cock. For as much as you have to eat, absorbing protein through your bros' thick cocks is a benefit you gladly enjoy. There isn't often a party where you turn down a proper pose down, letting all the guys worship you as they pump you full of beer and cock.
  4. Synopsis: Aron is an 18 year-old muscle obsessed college freshman who masturbates to muscular guys online. His favorite videos to watch are those of The Muscle Gut Club, four muscle gods who make a living sharing their size and strength with the online world. Steven is a muscle obsessed college junior who likes The Muscle Gut Club videos as well, though he hates himself for enjoying something so blatantly homosexual. Life becomes complicated for them both when the club leaps from the cyber world and into the real one. Aron goes down a path that leads to his wildest fantasies, while Steven takes a darker road. There will be muscle worship; there will be sex; there will be humiliation; there will be revenge; and there will be growth. No ones lives with be the same, including those of the club members in this 38 chapter long, muscle filled, character driven story told from 6 characters' points of view. Come and meet The Muscle Gut Club. Chapter One: Aron Aron Ocampo sat in his darkened room with only the faint glow of his laptop screen illuminating his face. His cock was in his right hand, dripping with pre-cum and steadily growing harder becoming so engorged with blood that it almost hurt. A pleasurable hurt. In his other hand, a tube of lotion, ready to lubricate his manhood. On the laptop he watched intently as a muscle stud moved closer to the camera filling more and more of the screen with his immense size. He was standing in a Starkly decorated living room. Clad only in a tiny red poser that could barely contain his bulging manhood the young muscle monster began to flex. His neck was astonishingly thick. It blended into two mountainous traps that met two cannonball delts. His arms were 19 inches around and framed a pair of perfect slab-like pecs that jutted out so far you could eat off of the shelf they created. He struck a front double bicep pose followed by a most muscular. The muscle god was not lean, but Aron didn’t care. He liked his men big and this fine specimen fit the bill. His muscle gut stuck out just past his pecs, obviously stuffed with a large high protein meal to fuel the muscle bull’s growth. Aron began to slowly stroke his erect little cock. The camera panned down to focus on the muscle god’s thick legs. They were like tree trunks. The monster legs were so big they almost made the meat between them look small, but Aron knew that was only an illusion. That cock was not small. He had seen it many times before. Aron stroked himself faster now. There came a knock. The muscle monster swaggered over to the door and opened it revealing a tiny pale twink, so skinny and short it was laughable but Aron couldn’t laugh. He was just like him, a pathetically small and weak boy who could never compare to a real man like the muscle god who made his cock throb with pleasure. “You came to worship me, your master?” The muscle god’s voice was deep and he spoke with authority. “Yes master,” Said the twink, clearly intimidated. He wore nothing, save for a pair of boxers. Aron wished he was in his position and could be in the presence of such impressive muscle. Lucky bastard he thought The muscle god pulled the twink into the room with one powerful arm so fast that the little fellows feet momentarily left the floor. He landed approximately six inches from the muscle god. The twink’s head only reached his master’s chest. He looked like a schoolboy next to a full-grown man. The muscle man’s biceps were bigger than his legs! Aron continued to stroke himself, slower now. He had to pace it just right. The muscle god handed the little twink a bottle of baby oil. “Get to it shrimp,” he said with a grin as he flexed his huge arms. He looked at his muscle obviously impressed with himself. “God, I’m fucking big,” he bellowed. The little shrimp began to oil his muscle master. He rubbed and caressed each body part. The pecs seemed to be his favorite part and he paid them special attention. He got on tippy toes to kiss them up and down as the muscle god squeezed and relaxed. Squeezed and relaxed. The twink began to suck on the nipples making the muscle god moan with pleasure. “Oh yeah, worship my monster pecs.” “Yes master.” The twink’s little cock was growing pushing out the fabric of his boxers. The muscle monster’s cock was growing as well, straining his tiny posers. Aron began to stroke his manhood faster now. The climax was coming and he wanted to time it perfectly. “You worship my muscles well. Now how about you worship this.” The muscle god grabbed his bulge. At-least 2 inches of his cock was sticking out of the top of his posers. “Fuck ‘em,” said the muscle monster as he pulled off his posers with a loud RIP revealing his 8-inch python. “I outgrew them months ago.” “They fit perfectly to me,” said the twink with a smile. “Shut-up and suck,” commanded the muscle god. He pushed down on the twink’s shoulders and the little guy collapsed to his knees. Almost as fast as he hit the ground he had the cock in his mouth and began to suck with enthusiasm and glee. Aron watched longingly. God, I wish it was me. The twink deep-throated the whole cock, sucking it and pleasing it from balls to tip. He twisted his head from side to side working the thick veiny shaft with such skill that the muscle god was high on pleasure. He threw his head back and moaned, “yes, yes!” Aron was stroking his own cock in almost perfect rhythm with the twink’s sucking motions. The spasms came slow at first and then faster. He was about to blow. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” the muscle monster began to shout. The twink stopped sucking. Still on his knees he looked up at the towering behemoth above him. Its cock aimed square at his face. The twink closed his eyes. Aron closed his eyes. The muscle god blew several huge loads all over the twink’s face. Aron shot his cum into a strategically placed garbage can under his desk. Aron loosed the grip on his cock and took in a few deep breaths. Some cum had made its way onto his hand and he was sweating slightly. The twink’s face was covered in a layer of muscle man spunk, thick and creamy white. He looked like he fell head first into a bowl of yogurt. It oozed by his eyes and dripped from his chin. The twink began to lick the warm cum from his face. “That’s right boy. Suck it all in. You aint leaving here until every drop of that cum is in you.” The huge stud placed his hands on his muscle gut and began to laugh as the twink continued to eat his cum with audible MMMs. The screen went black and Aron was left feeling empty now that the video had ended. He knew it was only a 10-minute video when he purchased it for $50, yet somehow he thought it would go on longer, or at least hoped as much. He had purchased the video from the Muscle Gut Club website. The Muscle Gut Club was a group of four college aged men dedicated to growing their bodies and sharing their progress with adoring fans the world over. With a combination of free youtube videos showcasing their lives and hardcore videos on their for sale site, they took the Internet’s muscle fetish community by storm. The four muscle gods lived together, ate together, and pumped iron together. Aron made his way over to the club’s youtube page, and clicked on one of their older videos: Muscle Gut Club Protein Bloat. The whole club was sitting on a huge black leather sofa. Edmund Moreno, the junior competitive bodybuilder, sat on the far left. His dark brown locks fell just to his earlobes His tanned skin and square jaw were to die for. In the middle sat the two muscle bears, the weightlifters, Brendon Lane and Daniel Hogan. Brendon was smaller here than in the video Steven had just paid $50 for. He still had the same mocha skin, short neatly trimmed beard, and bloated muscle gut. Daniel, the Irish American was pale, hairy, and sported a lumberjack style beard. On the far right sat Thomas Patel, the Indian fitness model and physique competitor. He was by far the smallest of the bunch, the only one under 6 feet and 200 pounds, but his 160 pounds of lean muscle packed on a 5 foot 8-inch frame made him an impressive site. Thomas was hairless save for the short, neatly combed black hair on the top of his head. All four of the studs were wearing nothing but briefs (strained at the seams). In front of them was a table filled with high protein delights. There was a family sized bucket of KFC fried chicken, four steak fajitas, a pound of crispy bacon, 8 hamburgers, and a platter of bbq wings piled so high as to form a mountain in the center of the table. Aron was always impressed by the club’s eating ability and this video was over one-year-old. Surely they could eat twice this now since they had all grown. Edmund was the first to speak. He spread his arms wide. “We are going to eat all of this. It’s enough food for 16 normal people, but we aren’t normal. We’re fucking gods.” He flexed his biceps and the other’s followed suite, though his had the most impressive peaks of the bunch. “What are we celebrating boys?” asked Edmund. “My powerlifting meet,” said Daniel. “The success of my photoshoot,” said Thomas. “Being the biggest motherfucker here,” shouted Brandon with a pat of his gut and a laugh. “And I’m celebrated the end of my bulk. After this it’s time to get shredded for my next competition,” said Edmund, “let’s feed these muscles”. At once these half naked muscle gods greedily dove into the food like they hadn’t eaten in days. Bite after bite, so fast it was a wonder no one got hurt. They grabbed and shoved and gnawed in the sexiest spectacle of gluttony on the web. Four alphas feeding their growing physiques, trying to satiate their oversized appetites. The club members began to rub and pat each other’s distended bellies, laughing at, and admiring the damage done. Aron was growing hard again, and so were the members of the club. The gentle creak of Aron’s bedroom door opening startled him. He quickly closed the video. His heart raced. Mrs. Rita Ocampo, Aron’s mother, entered the dim room and stood just inside the door. She wore a silk night gown and a tired expression. “It’s 1 am,” she said. “Yeah.” Aron did not turn around. He slyly slid his cock back into his pants. “What were you doing Aron?” “Nothing! Just getting ready for bed.” Aron closed his laptop and turned around with a pout. “Can you knock next time mom. You know I’m old enough for some privacy.” His room had no lock. Parent’s rules. “You still live under my roof.” Not for long. “But I will knock next time,” She said, rolling her eyes. When his mother had gone Aron took a deep breath. One of his biggest fears was his parents discovering him watching gay porn or any material that could be seen as homoerotic in nature. Aron discovered he was gay, or rather accepted the fact, when he was 16. His parents had no clue to their son’s true nature as far as he knew and Aron did everything he could to keep it that way. His parents did not approve of the lifestyle and considered it a terrible sin. He had had hopes of sitting his parents down on his 18th birthday and telling them the truth, but his 18th came and went 2 months ago with not a peep. Instead he remarked to a classmate, within earshot of his father, how hot his neighbor’s 19-year-old daughter was, all in an attempt to keep the façade intact. It doesn’t matter. In a month I’ll be in college, free to do what I want and be what I want. Aron smiled at the thought as he crawled into bed, before drifting into a dream land populated with muscle men. Chapter Two: Steven Steven Hess stood naked in his cramped bathroom facing the mirror. His expression was one of disappointment. In 3 weeks I’ll be back in college with this same pathetic body, he thought. Standing at an even 6 feet, with a flabby 180 build, he not an impressive sight. Clothed, he could suck in his paunch and pass for fit to the untrained but here, standing naked there was no hiding his lack of definition. He grabbed at 3 inches of flab on his stomach and shook it with a frown. He performed a front double bicep only to discover there was hardly any peak on his 14.5 inch arms. He was disgusted and only grew more disgusted the longer he stared at his reflection. Still he stared. He squeezed his soft pale pecs and flexed his invisible abs. He left the bathroom in a huff and proceeded to get dressed in a pair of blue denim shorts and a light gray t-shirt. Steven sat at his computer desk. A few thin rays of morning sun speckled his shirt, warming him. But Steven did not want to be warm. He got up to turn on his air conditioner and close his blinds, choosing to sit in cool darkness. Muscle Gut Club. The thought seemed to come from nowhere. Muscle Gut Club. An inner voice seemed to call out for him to watch their videos. I thought these urges were gone. I thought I was cured of these sinful thoughts. He shook his head in anger. Steven had first discovered the club’s videos when he was 18, two years ago. He had started working out at the time and the club served as motivation for him. Their early videos consisted of mostly flexing, workouts, and eating. Steven hoped to look like them. However, his efforts proved fruitless. After eight months in the gym he had gained 10 pound and half of that he believed to be fat. Steven came to the conclusion that the club members must be on steroids, that anyone with big muscles must be on steroids. Steven had decided he would never defile his body with such impure and dangerous compounds so he quit that working out business. Still, he continued to watch Muscle Gut Club videos, even as they grew more sexual in nature. Where once the club would do a video fully clothed (very tight clothes of course) they would now do them in boxer briefs. Steven masturbated to several of their videos, especially the ones focused on Edmund, the bodybuilder. I’m not gay. I’m not gay. I’m just hormonal and young. Everything makes me horny. There’s nothing wrong with this he would tell himself. The more he said it, the less he believed it until he forced himself to stop watching Muscle Gut Club videos once and for all. His abstinence lasted all of a week when he discovered that he went to the same college as the club. There videos were filmed off campus in a private home so there was nothing in them to give away the location. There was no hiding their faces, though. Steven was walking to the dining hall and the four muscle gods walked towards him, Brendon, Thomas, Daniel, and Edmund, Oh Edmund. From that point on Steven was at war with his homosexual desires. Now he sat in is dim room faced a decision. Listed to the voice: Muscle Gut Club or fight it. He chose to listen. I’ll stop tomorrow. It’s no big deal. Steven opened his laptop and immediately went to the clubs YouTube channel. He would not pay for one of their videos. He scrolled through and selected the video titled “Edmond Dominates Benny the Twink.” He stopped himself. No, no. You’re not a faggot Steven. Stop this. Yes, you are. You’re just a muscle loving faggot who’ll never have any muscle of his own. No I’m not, I have a girlfriend. Yes, you are, she’s just a cover. No I’m not! Steven slammed the computer screen shut. “Goddammit,” Steven shouted as he bolted up from his desk. Pacing the room, he hummed to silence the voices making war in his head. Steven had just woken up but now he eyed his bed, contemplating it. Rest may help me. I’ll just close my eyes. He slid under the covers. In no time he was lost in sleep and a dream took him. Steven could not tell where he was, outside or in. A dry fog surrounded him and obscured the boundaries of his vision. Is it day or night? He lay on scarlet satin seats in black pajama bottom with no top. A roll of soft fat curled over the pajama’s waistband as he leaned up to further survey is surroundings. The bed was so large that the edges of it were lost in the fog. The thought to roll entered his mind and so he did it. He rolled and rolled like a child in the grass but stopped when he realized he would not reach the end. He peered deep into the fog. A shadow seemed to take form in the haze. It moved towards him, slowly. “Hello,” Steven called out. No reply. Still the shadow moved closer, growing larger and clearer. “Hello,” he called again. “Where am I? What is this place?” Again there was no reply. The figure was nearly upon him. It was clearly that of man, tall with broad shoulders. The fog seemed to part before him and Steven saw his face. It was Edmund Moreno. His chiseled jawline could have been carved from stone. Edmond stared at Steven with is light brown eyes. His lips formed a cocky smile. He wore a charcoal grey suit with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top. A gold band was on his ring finger. Steven looked at his own hand and found a matching gold band that he had not noticed before. His heart skipped a beat. Edmund’s arms stretched the fabric of the shirtsleeves. His brood chest pulled at the material around the buttons. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and pealed it off his massive frame, then slowly undid each button on the white shirt, working his way lower until he had revealed his washboard abs. Steven had grown completely hard. He pushed his boner down in shame but the iron hard cock was too rigid. It could not be tamed. The muscle god flexed his biceps and ripped open the shirtsleeves along the seam before throwing the shirt into the fog. He motioned to undo his belt and as he did so his meaty pecs bounced with ever movement of his arms. Steven was now jerking off furiously to quell his raging boner. Edmund lowered his pants revealing meaty, striated thighs, and an impressive cock. It was thick, veiny and clearly rock hard but it was so large it hung low and heavy under its own weight. Every part of him was impressive. Steven salivated and rose to his knees, still beating his meat. Suddenly Edmund lunged forward, stopping just short of forcing Steven back. His mammoth manhood knocked Steven in the face. It was more impressive up close, truly a beautiful sight. Steven took it into his mouth and began to suck. He sucked with passion and desire as if there was nothing else he wanted, only that cock, only that moment. He stopped stroking his own cock and concentrated solely on the Stud standing above him. Edmund grabbed Steven’s hair and pushed his head further onto his muscle god cock. Steven gagged. His eyes filled with tears of pleasure. The rhythmic throbs came all at once. Edmund blew a forceful load into Stevens mouth, filling it with thick, warm, salty spunk. He swallowed it all with gusto and squeezed every last drop from that cock. When he was through he looked up at the muscle stud. Steven asked, “Got any more?” As if in answer Edmond bent over and picked Steven up with no obvious show of effort. He turned Steven over and ripped of the pajama bottoms, revealing a pale white ass that contrasted sharply with his own tanned skin. Edmond spit on his cock. Steven’s cheeks were parted by the massive manhood and his asshole was stretched to its limits. Edmund began to pound his ass with ferocity. Steven moaned in pleasure with each thrust. “More, more,” Steven screamed. Edmund blew his second load filling Steven’s ass with his seed. “Don’t stop!” Steven was breathing heavily. He turned and Edmund was gone. He was alone again with nothing but satin sheets and fog. All at once he heard a voice beside him. “Did you enjoy that faggot?” He turned toward the voice and was staring himself in the face. “Did you enjoy that faggot?” the voice repeated in echo. Steven woke with a start. He lay in his bed covered in a cold sweat. His manhood was rock hard. A feeling of disgust filled him, disgusted with himself, with that dream, no, nightmare. I’m not a faggot. I’m not a faggot. I’m not a faggot. He repeated the mantra as he got out of bed to carry on with his day. Three: Aron He struggled to lift his packed suitcase from the trunk of his parent’s SUV. It weighed 50 pounds, half his weight. His father, Mr. Efren Ocampo, helped him. Efren was a man of slight build and medium height, the same height as his wife in fact, 5 foot 8 inches. Both were taller than their 5 foot 5 inch son. “Son, you take this one.” He handed Aron a smaller bag and took the larger one himself. “It looks like those people are welcoming Freshmen,” said Aron’s father as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Come on honey.” Mrs. Ocampo sauntered up to stand by her husband. She wore large black sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat. It was an oppressively hot August day with not a cloud in the sky. The family began to walk toward the welcoming committee. Aron hurried in front of his parents, his arm straining under the weight of the ‘light’ suitcase. God I’m so weak. He switched arms and kept a straight face, refusing to show weakness. The welcoming committee in this section of the campus consisted of three girls and three boys standing behind a long table under the shade of a blue picnic tent. The table was covered with boxes containing shirts, hoodies, mugs, pens, and notebooks, all with the University logo. “Hi!” A girl said, beaming, as Aron surveyed the table. She wore a yellow t-shirt that read “Welcome Freshman” and her name tag read “Alyssa”. “We’ve sure got a hot one for moving in don’t we? So tell me what dorm you’re in and I can direct you- what’s your name?” “Aron.” She extended her hand and Aron shook it. He used the opportunity to put his bag down and rest his arm. “I’m Alyssa.” “Hi, uh, Alyssa. I’m in Jefferson dorm.” “Go down that path, past a big tree, make a right at the statue, and keep going straight. You’ll hit Jefferson. You can’t miss it.” She gesticulated wildly as she spoke. Mrs. Ocampo leaned on the table once Alyssa was finished. “The dorm has air conditioning right? Please tell me it has air conditioning. When we came for orientation they only showed us the new dorms and they have air conditioning, but I wonder if they are hiding something.” Mrs. Ocampo pulled her sunglasses down and stared Alyssa square in the eyes. “Well I know they added air conditioning to all the dorms 5 yrs ago but sometimes in the older dorms like Jefferson it can be a little iffy.” “Fair enough.” Mrs. Ocampo replied. Aron and his family followed Alyssa’s directions and arrived at the Doors of Jefferson. All of them were sweating profusely. Aron looked up the mammoth structure. Jefferson stood five stories and was in the shape of a huge capital “H”. English ivy clung to a brick façade and well-pruned cedars framed the main entrance. Aron had read that the first floor was all boys, the second, all girls, and the last three were co-ed. His room was 312, a co-ed floor to further his illusion of heterosexuality. In Jefferson’s main hall the Residential Assistants handed out the room keys as well as a pamphlet of rules. “Stay cool,” said a male RA as he handed Aron his key. “All even numbered rooms are on the left.” Everyone’s so friendly. I’m going to like it here, Aron thought. The building had no elevators and by the time the family reached the third floor they were all exasperated from the combination of carrying luggage and the heat. Aron opened his room door and saw that his Roommate was already present and had claimed the left side of the room. He was a tall, athletically built and Chinese. Aron remembered his name was Jason Ho and thought he was kind of cute. After a quick introduction (very quick, Jason was not the talkative type) Aron unpacked his bags and the Ocampos left for Walmart to pick-up a few things Aron would need, storage containers, an alarm clock, laundry hamper, lamp, and a small television. With Aron’s room all set up the Ocampos enjoyed one final family meal at a local restaurant, though Aron would have been satisfied had they left immediately after returning from Walmart. “That Alyssa was pretty cute, huh?” Mr. Ocampo said as he cut into a medium rare steak. “I saw the way you looked at her.” Aron had looked at her funny because of her over the top hand gestures. “I think she’s an upperclassman dad.” Aron replied. He couldn’t believe his father was playing matchmaker on his first day in college. “So what. There’s nothing wrong with an older woman.” “Efren!” Mrs. Ocampo snapped. “He’ll be focusing on school his first year. Romance later.” “I was just messing with him honey.” After the meal Aron’s parents dropped him off on campus. His mother had tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Call once a week,” she said. “We’ll miss you.” “If you need any money just call son,” said his father “Have fun and we love you, and learn something.” He hugged and kissed his parents and watched them drive off. Free at last. Free at last. Aron wasted no time exploring the campus. He had seen very little of it on orientation day and was curious to see everything it had to offer. It covered 1200 acres and Aron intended to cover as much of it as possible before dark. He was relieved that clouds had rolled in after lunch causing the heat to subside some. Jefferson dorm overlooked the East campus dining hall. Aron found it drab. It looked like a restaurant that had not been redecorated since the 80s. Not much food was available since Aron had visited between meals, but the food that was available (pizza, chicken tenders, mixed vegetables, and French fries) looked edible enough. As Aron walked down the campus’ main path (called Scholar’s Way) toward the heart of the campus he took in the sights and sounds of college. Students played ultimate Frisbee in an open field. Girls sunned themselves on towels discussing their summers. Two shirtless guys jogged by him and he tried his hardest not to stair too long. A hipster played his guitar under an oak tree. Aron didn’t recognize the tune. It hit all at once. A rush through him down to his bones: the realization that he would be living there with thousands of other students for 3 ½ months (until winter break). New friends. New experiences. And he was ready. He stopped in the center of the path and looked up at the clock tower of the student union. It was 2:30pm and in that moment he vowed not to waste his time in college. He wasn’t going to live life through a computer screen in some dark room. He would have real experiences: a real life. His lips lifted into the largest goofiest smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled in earnest because he was happy and not just to cover his true feelings. He lowered his gaze from the clock tower and in an instant his smile was gone. In its place was an expression of shock. In the distance he saw a familiar shape. A hulking figure moved through the crowd. It couldn’t be. Could it? No. It couldn’t be him. Aron had to be sure. He ran through a crowd of students bumping into some. With rushed apologies, he pushed past them. His quarry was large, not easy to lose track of but Aron’s small stature meant that he could hardly see over other students. He had to be quick and luckily he was. The crowd grew thick the closer he got to the heart of the campus, the food court in the student union. Aron followed his quarry into the food court. He had heard they served much better food than the dining halls and the large crowd seemed to support this. There were several students taller than the one he was following but none wider or more thickly muscled. He wore a red tank top and white shorts with sandals. red certainly is his color. The food court was arranged in two sections. First a semi-circle with various eateries crammed side by side: a taco place, a bakery, a sub shop, a Chinese place, a smoothie stand, and a pizzeria. The second was a rectangular hall with tables of various sizes. His quarry stood in line at the sub shop and Aron positioned himself in line at the taco place, close enough to see him but far enough away not to be noticed. His heart raced as he looked to catch a glimpse of his face. Mocha skin and a well-trimmed beard. He had all the features. It was Brendon Lane. If Brendon goes to this school then the whole Muscle Gut Club must go here as well. Aron felt faint. He left his line without buying anything and made his way to the tables, choosing a seat in the corner that was obscured buy a support column. He felt like a creeper as he watched Brendon get his food with fascination. Apparently the appetite he displayed in his videos was not for show. He ordered two 12 inch sub sandwiches, and a giant size chocolate chip cookie from the sub shop, as well as a milkshake from the shake stand (apparently they offer to add protein powder to your shakes for an extra dollar, an option Brendon took). Brendon sat at a table by himself just within Aron’s sights. He ate with gusto and consumed all of the food within 10 minutes. Aron timed him. When Brendon rose he rubbed his distended muscle gut and smiled before exiting the food court. Aron had a choice to make, follow or not. It had long been Aron’s fantasy to meet the members of the muscle gut club. Now he had that opportunity. Should I take it? He masturbated himself raw to them. He had seen them all naked. What would I say to them? Hey, I like your cock. No. He knew he would probably be speechless, but still… I have to try. Aron rose and ran from the food court. He caught site of Brendon in the distance. Taking a deep breath, he set off behind him. Exploring the rest of the campus would have to wait. Four: Brendon He pushed the weight up with little effort for the fifteenth time. 250 pounds was just a warm up for him now, but two years ago as an 18-year-old freshman it would have been a struggle. At 18 he had been working out for 3 years (seriously for only half that time) and had developed a lean aesthetic physique that could have been the envy of any fitness model. He liked his abs. He liked his striations but he liked seeing the weigh on the bar go up even more. That year something in him clicked and strength not aesthetics became his main goal. Now he lay on the bench in the Muscle Gut Club’s private gym a stronger more robust version of his 18-year-old self. In two years he had grown 2 inches in height and gained 50 pounds. At 6 foot 3 inches and 230 pounds he had no abs but he didn’t care. He was stronger than he’d ever been and only wanted to grow in strength. Bigger. Stronger. Better. He was on a forever bulk. Brendon stood up from the bench. He wore a blue stinger that covered so little of his upper body that he might as well have been shirtless, and black compression shorts that could hardly contain his squat-grown ass. He picked up two 25 pound plates like they weighed nothing and added them to the 250 pounds already on the bar. He proceeded to bench the weight. One rep. Two reps…by the Tenth rep he was breathing heavy, but he managed to crank out two more reps before racking the 300 pounds with a loud clang. Still too light. His cock stirred at the thought. If he could do more than eight reps of a weight he knew he had to go heavier. After a three-minute rest and a drink of BCAAs he added a 10-pound weight and a 2.5-pound weight to each side. The bar now weighed 325 pounds and after a deep breath he lifted the bar. His arms shook slightly but he managed five reps with perfect form. He racked the weight and sat up slowly. Beads of sweat formed on his temples and trickled down the side of his face. His pecs were pumped full with blood (as was his cock). He rubbed them and bounced them, enjoying the sight of himself in the mirror. “Having fun?” A voice interrupted his self-muscle worship session. Daniel Hogan stood at the door with a cheeky grin. “Lifting heavy without a spotter again. You’re asking to get hurt.” Daniel moved closer to him. “I’m not pushing myself too hard.” Brendon said. “You should be if you’re gonna beat me at the meet” Daniel flexed his arms as he spoke. Brendon laughed then said, “First you’ll have to get up to my weight class and I warn you I’ll be heavier by the end of the year.” At 6 foot 1 inch and 215 pound Daniel did not have far to go. “I hadn’t planned on competing in your weight class.” Daniel looked at himself in the mirror before picking up two 60 pound dumbbells and curling them. “Aah, you’re too scared to compete head to head so you plan to dominate in a lower weight class. But tell me how’s our bet going to work. I thought the person who beats the other has to pay $500-” Daniel interrupted him. “No, my idea was the one who wins their weight class pays the other $500. Brendon shook his head and smiled. “Tell me Dan,” Brendon began, “What happens if we both win in our weight classes, or we both loose.” Daniel stopped curling and looked his friend dead in the eyes for a second. He pushed his lower lip out, squeezed his eyebrows together and moved his eyes rapidly from side to side as he always did when deep in thought. “Well I guess of we both win or lose then there’s no bet then is there?” “Guess not,” said Brendon, laying down on the bench. He didn’t really care about the bet. “Since you’re here and so worried about my safety, spot me on my pr.” “That’s a personal record for you?” Daniel pointed at the bar. “That only 325.” “No, you’re gonna make yourself useful and add 50 pounds to it. Thanks” “You’re fucking annoying,” Daniel said with a laugh. “I know.” When the weight was set Brendon took several deep breaths and grabbed the bar. Daniel placed his hands under the bar. “You got this man, light weight, light weight,” he said. Brendon lifted it with a deep grunt. Every muscle in his upper body tensed. He lowered the weight slowly to within one inch of his chest. When the time came to raise it he stalled. Don’t let the weight beat you. Beat it. Daniel began to apply upward pressure on the bar, but Brendon frowned at him and he immediately let loose keeping his hands a half inch under the bar. Slowly Brandon began to raise the 375 lbs. He flared his teeth and half way up stalled once more. Daniel touched the bar again. “No help” grunted Brendon. “Dude you’re going to pop something.” “No help!” He raised the bar further. Yes. Bigger. Stronger. Better. He completed the rep with a howl. Daniel cheered. After racking the weight Brendon sprung up from the bench. Daniel grabbed his arm and shook him. “375 fucking pounds man.” Brendon grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Who’s the man? Haha.” His head was in the clouds. He had hit a new personal record: The heaviest in the club. He peeled off his stringer and began to flex in the mirror. Daniel joined in. “That got me hungry.” Said Brendon “You’re always hungry.” Replied Dan That was true and he knew it. He was a bottomless pit, hungry for size and power, and he fed his appetite whenever he had the chance. “Want to get something to eat?” Brendon asked. “Nah, I just ate a pizza.” Dan rubbed his slightly distended muscle gut. “Ok. Peace, I’m out.” Brendon left the gym shirtless, carrying his stringer in his hand. He could feel Daniel’s eyes watching him as he left. No doubt he was ‘miring. Brendon had already eaten 6 scrambled eggs, 4 slices of bacon, 4 pieces of toast, and 2 bananas for breakfast, as well as a gainer shake just before his bench pressing session, but that didn’t stop him from stuffing himself at lunch. He ate two whole subs, an oversized cookie, and a milkshake in the student Union food court. On an average day he could consume 6000 calories and he certainly needed them. He lifted weights 6 days a week in the morning, focusing on a major lift or body part each time. 4 days a week in the afternoons he performed strong man style lifts for 2 hours: moving logs, farmer’s carries, tire lifts, atlas stones and the like. Today was one of those days. He decided to go home and take a nap to sleep off the meal. Then he would have another shake before heading to the Strong Man Center downtown. As he walked away from the Student Union, he felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to find a short thin boy looking up at him. The little fellow had peanut color skin, almond shaped eyes, and black hair. He appeared to have some Asian origin. A freshman no doubt, lost. “Yeah. Can I help you?” The little fellow looked away when he caught Brendon’s gaze, then in an instant his eyes darted back to meet Brendon’s. He seemed nervous. “I…uh…my name is…I just want-” Brendon was growing impatient. “Are you lost?” he asked, uninterested. “No.” “Need help finding something?” “No.” There was a moment of silence. Jesus. What’s wrong with him? “Well it was nice meeting you,” Brendon said, sardonic. “But I got places to be.” “I like your videos!” The little guy blurted it out suddenly as Brendon turned away, louder than necessary, and so quickly the words blended together. “What?” Brendon raised his eye brows. “The, uh, Muscle Gut Club videos. I really like them, like… a lot.” The little fellow lowered his eyes to the ground as if he had admitted to grave sin and was now ashamed of himself. Brendon looked him over for a minute, before bursting out in laughter. He placed a large hand on the little guy’s shoulder and patted him so hard his frail body nearly keeled over. “Sorry about that, little guy, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” Brendon had a huge grin on his face. “Why didn’t you just open with that? I love meeting fans. It doesn’t happen too often. Most of them live too far away and it’s not like we give out our address since a lot of them are creepers if you know what I man.” The little guy managed an awkward smile. He looked relieved. “Kid, you looked like you were worried I’d eat you, haha.” And I probably could if I was hungry enough and you were the only thing around. “So what’s your name?” Brendon continued. “Aron Ocampo.” “So if you want a private muscle video its $50 for half an hour, $100 if you want me to get naked.” “Actually I just want to meet the whole club,” said Aron. “I love big guys and it would be an honor to serve you all. I would work for you all and my only payment would be the pleasure of being around all that muscle. I know it might sound lame and if you want just say no.” Aron lowered his eyes once more. Brendon could hardly believe it. The club had a house boy the previous year, Jason Meed, but after being inspired by the club he traded in his twink physique and submissive personality for a muscle bod and dominant cocky bravado. He soon clashed with the club and had to go. Now a new one had fallen into his lamp. He was cute enough, seemed submissive enough, and he clearly loved muscle. What more can I ask for? “It’s not lame at all,” Brendon said squeezing Aron’s bony shoulder. “Say, how tall are you and your weight?” “I’m 5, 3, 101 pounds.” Brendon tried to contain his inner joy. The Perfect size for lift and carry videos. “Give me your number. I’ll call you when the club is ready to meet.” When Brendon was finished putting the number in his phone he shook Aron’s hand, perhaps squeezing it a little too firmly considering the little guy’s grimace. The two parted ways and both were smiling as they did so. Five: Aron He sat in his dorm room, half present and half absent. His body was there, yes, but his mind was elsewhere. Brendon had said he would call when the Muscle Gut Club was ready to meet him. The first day he waited with excitement hoping he would get the call that night. It didn’t come. The next day his phone rang and his heart skipped a beat. To his dismay, it was only his mother checking in. The third day classes started and he had to walk from one end of the campus to the other to reach them all. He hoped in doing so that he would run into Brendon again or some other member of the club. No such luck. Now as he absentmindedly stared at his computer screen he wondered Did the club not want to meet me? Was Brendon just toying with me? It hurt to think about it. His roommate, Jason Ho, sat in the room as well, earphones on and head in a calculus book. Aron had learned very little about him in the past few days, aside from the fact that he was a Biology major from upstate New York who was crazy about some band he had never heard of. He had eaten with Jason once and after getting no more than three sentences out of him decided he was better off eating his meals alone. Jason didn’t mind. Aron heard a knock on the door. He turned to answer, but Jason leapt from his bed and beat him to it. Four Chinese looking students, 2 boys and 2 girls entered into the room. Hugs were shared, kisses given, and hands shook as Aron watched. They spoke to Aron briefly and he was given a barrage of names he would never remember. He caught them mention a restaurant and within two minutes they were gone, leaving Aron alone. He had several options. He could study, continue surfing the web, go for an evening walk, or masturbate. Truthfully he wanted to do none of it. He had no test to study for and unlike his roommate he was not the type to read a textbook without a reason, though he knew he should. The web had started to bore him. He could only stand so many Facebook posts, forum threads, and funny videos. He had done enough walking to get to class earlier that day. That left masturbation. Masturbation was his old standby. His favorite pastime. It was a stress reliever and form of cardio. In the past year he had only masturbated to Muscle Gut Club videos. It was an obsession. He would do it now but after meeting Brendon and knowing they were so close to him he only wanted the real thing. A video wouldn’t do. He walked over to his bed, removed his shoes and laid down. As soon as he closed his eyes his phone rang. Aron jumped from the bed so fast he nearly fell over. He ran over to his desk and answered. “Hello, Aron, it’s Brendon. When’s your next day off?” “I have no classes Thursday.” He tried his best not to let the excitement show in his voice. “Perfect. The club wants to meet you. Come by at Noon. I’ll text you the directions.” “Ok, great. Thank you Brendon.” “No, thank you,” Brendon said before hanging up. Aron hardly slept that night. Instead he thought of what he would say to the club members and what he would do. The next day he couldn’t concentrate on his classes. His mind raced from thought to thought. What if I say the wrong thing? What if they don’t like me? God, I hope they like me. On Thursday at 11:30 am Aron set off on his journey. He was happy and nervous, so nervous he ate nothing that morning. He only drank a glass of orange juice. The club lived at 43 Stone Street on the other side of town. Luckily between the Campus run buses and the city buses there were trips to and from that part of town every half hour. He took one of the campus buses which were painted an obnoxiously bright blue. It was packed with students heading to off campus housing or going shopping. Aron couldn’t find a seat so he stood in the middle making awkward eye contact with the bus driver in his rearview mirror. His short arms just barely reached the overhead pole. On sharp turns he bumped into the students next to him despite trying his hardest to stay steady. He just didn’t have the weight for it. When he reached his stop he took a breath of relief. He felt like he was being released from a tin of sardines. The ride had only lasted 10 minutes but it felt like it had been one hour. There were no bus stops on Stone street so he had to walk the rest of the way. He took note of how nice the neighborhood was, not rich nice (He grew up in a neighborhood like that), but middle-class nice. Most students who lived off campus rented places in the poorer part of town. The Muscle Gut Club must be doing very well for themselves. At 11:54 he walked up to the front door at 43 Stone Street. It was a white shingled, 2 story Dutch colonial with a yard enclosed by high hedges and a fence. Aron motioned to ring the doorbell but paused momentarily. Nerves again. Surprisingly the door opened. Brendon stood in the frame filling it with his size. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black nylon shorts, his muscle gut in plain view. His arms stood out from his sides at an angle, lifted up by his well-developed lats. “No, I’m not psychic. I saw you walking up.” Brendon said with a smile. “Come on in and meet the guys.” Aron took one step in the door and was hit with the strongest odor of male musk he could imagine. It smelled of pure masculinity. He stood still, briefly overcome with arousal. “Any day now,” Brendon called from another room. Aron quickly ran toward the sound of the voice, nearly tripping over his feet. When he entered the room he froze like a deer in headlights. All four members of the club sat in the room on two couches staring directly at him. Edmond was wearing only a pair of red boxer briefs stretched to the limits by his massive quads and by his mammoth manhood. He was looking exceptionally lean. Aron wanted to leap forward and place his hands all over his deeply cut cobblestone abs, but he maintained his composure. Thomas wore a white wife beater and black briefs. His fitness model physique, while the smallest of the four, was as impressive as they come. His shoulders and chest were unbelievably developed. His waist formed a perfect v-taper. Aron swooned at his Adonis belt and at the sight of his large, masculine Adam’s apple. Daniel was seated closest to Aron. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of grey pajama bottoms. He was almost as big as Brendon and the palest of the bunch. His muscles were clearly well defined even if he wasn’t very lean. Daniels hairy chest and rugged beard gave him a sexy lumberjack appeal. Aron couldn’t believe this was finally happening. As he looked around the room all he could manage to say was a shy “hi”. “Guys, this is obviously the Freshman I was telling you about, Aron Ocampo.” Brendon said. “He’s kind of cute like you said,” Thomas looked from Aron to Brandon. “In a mousey way.” The other members nodded. “He looks kind of frail, though.” Edmund said with an apprehensive look. “You’re not sick are you?” “No!” Aron replied, shaking his head. “Sir.” He added. The members snickered and shared glances with each other. “Sir? Haha. What a polite little twink.” Said Edmond. “I like him already.” It was the first time Aron had been called a twink by someone. Edmond stood up and walked over to him. He towered over Aron and got so close that the little twink could smell his masculine scent. It smelled good. Without warning Edmond picked him up. “God he’s so light.” He exclaimed. Edmond turned him on his side and began curling him with next to no effort at all. Up and down, up and down Aron went, 15 times. Then Edmond proceeded to press him overhead 10 times. Aron was in heaven. Daniel stood up. “Let me have a go at him.” “He’ll be nothing for you,” Edmund said as he handed him over. Daniel pressed him overhead several times and then lowered one of his arms, holding Aron overhead one handed. He walked over to Brendon (Still with Aron overhead) and said, “You got a real small one this time.” Brendon stood up and took Aron from Daniel and placed him on the ground as easily as if he were a doll. Aron was now surrounded by a triangle of shirtless muscle gods all towering over him. Thomas sat on the couch smiling. “Don’t mind them Aron, they just like showing off how strong they are.” “Someone get the measuring tape,” said Edmond. Brendon left and within an instant he was back with the measuring tape. “Strip.” Edmond commanded Aron. Aron did as he ordered, not wanting to displease the muscle god. He stood before them in his size small white briefs. They began to measure him all over, gaping, and snickering. “Wow only 11 inch arms, my 12-year-old brother has arms bigger than that,” said Edmond. “Holy shit my arms are as big as his thighs,” said Daniel. This humiliation would have sent Aron crying anywhere else, but from these muscle gods it was a turn on. His little cock stiffened as the muscle gut club poked, prodded, and studied his boney body. “Hey look, he’s getting hard.” Thomas pointed. “Pull down your underwear,” Edmund ordered. Aron again obeyed. Edmond took the measuring tape and held it next to Aron’s little cock. “Five inches and fully hard,” he said, looking around at the club. Edmund whipped his mammoth member from his boxer briefs and held It next to Aron’s “Twice as thick and twice as long.” He smiled with pride. “Let’s face it, though, comparing your cock to an average man’s wouldn’t even be fair, much less to that.” Daniel said as he pointed to Aron’s. “You can lift your underwear,” Brendon said. There was a touch of sympathy in his voice. He must not realize I love it. Every minute of it. “I really don’t care about his cock size. You’ll be fucking him, not the other way around,” Daniel said, “And I really don’t care about his looks since people watch our videos for our looks not the Twink’s.” “Is there a point here?” Edmond asked. “My point is. You say he wants to serve us.” He looked at Brendon. “Well that’s what I’m interested in. Will he be good at his job?” He turned back to Aron. Now was the moment Aron had been waiting for. He had been thinking about what he would say for day and finally he was ready to say it. “I’m gay,” Aron began, “and I love muscle men more than anything in the whole world. I’ve watched all of your YouTube videos an even bought some of your XXX videos. I masturbate to you. I dream about you. I’ve always wanted to meet you. I know I’ll never have muscles like yours. I know I’ll never be able to compare to gods like you, but all I ask is the chance to be around you, to serve, to bask in the presence of your massive frames.” “I will serve you with devotion and without question. I can cook and I will cook huge protein rich meals for you to fuel your growth. I will do your laundry and clean your rooms. If your tense after a workout, I’ll massage you. I’ll wipe the sweat from your brow. If your horny you can fuck me or if you just want a blowjob just say the word. I’ll wear whatever you want me to while in the house. I will truly be your slave and you will be my muscle masters.” Thomas’ mouth was agape. Edmund had a devious smile across his face. Brendon looked flabbergasted. Daniel simply clapped. He looked genuinely impressed by the speech. “Did you have that planned or was it off the top of your head?” asked Brendon. “Uh, kinda planned,” replied Aron, scratching his head. “Get on your knees.” Commanded Edmund. Aron did so. The members of the club got up and formed a semi-circle around him, staring down at him. “Kiss our feet.” Edmund ordered. Aron gently kissed each of their feet. “That’s so a slave remembers his place.” Edmund said. “At our feet.” Said Brendon, cutting in. “Rise,” said Edmond. Aron did so as each of the members struck a front double bicep pose. “Now kiss our biceps.” Aron kissed each of their biceps. “That’s so a slave remembers why he serves,” Edmund said. “He serves because of these muscles,” Brendon said, again finishing Edmund’s statement. “You start Saturday,” said Brendon. “Be here at 9 am to start breakfast. Here’s a key, and bring some stuff to cook us dinner. You won’t have time to go shopping after you get here. You’ll be very busy.” He grinned. Aron dressed. The club said their ‘until next times’ and he left for the 1:30 pm bus. He couldn’t wait for Saturday. Six: Edmund Edmund Moreno stood in his bathroom flexing in the mirror. He squeezed his muscles tight and hit every major bodybuilding pose like he was standing on stage at the Olympia. He imagined the crowd cheering him and admiring his perfect physique. I can’t believe I came in 3rd at the Junior Classics last week. I had the best conditioning on stage and the best symmetry. He had stepped on stage at the Classics weighing in at 195 pounds of lean hard muscle and standing 6 foot 1 inch, but he wasn’t the biggest. The 1st and 2nd place winners outweighed him by 15 pounds and that gave them the edge. Next time I’ll be fucking huge. He felt a hand touch his shoulder. His girlfriend, Bianca Bui, had creeped up behind him and began squeezing his muscles as he flexed. She loved his muscles. “Having fun?” she asked. “Seeing what I need to work on. I could bring my traps up and my lats-” “You look perfect to me babe.” “Well, the judges didn’t think so,” Edmund frowned slightly. “I have a better physique than anyone on campus, but that won’t win the competition. I need to be better than anyone in the state.” He bent down and kissed Bianca on the lips. She was of Vietnamese decent, 5 foot 5 inches, and 119 pounds with the perfect female figure. She wore pink silk pajama bottoms and a white tank top. “I guess you’ll be going on a big bulk.” She said. “The biggest I’ve done yet. I plan on putting on at least 35 or 40 pounds before cutting.” “Then you won’t be doing much cardio…” She pouted jokingly. Edmund laughed. “I’ll always have time for cardio.” He pulled down his boxers revealing his manhood. “I’ll just have to eat a big breakfast after to make up for all the calories I burn. Edmond pulled off her top and cupped her firm breasts. She giggled and removed her pajama bottoms. Edmund kissed her neck while slowly pushing down her panties. He lifted her up and placed her easily on his cock. She moaned with pleasure as he pressed her against the bathroom wall with his muscular chest. He ran his fingers through her hair and took in her flowery scent. “Carry me to bed.” She said between moans. He grabbed her supple legs and she placed her arms around his thick neck, his manhood penetrating her deeply. They fell together on the bed. Edmund moved in her wet pussy with slow steady strokes. She grabbed his horse shoe triceps and clawed at him as he began to pound her harder and faster. Her moans of pleasure grew louder as she began to orgasm. “Yes! Baby! Yes!” she screamed. “You like how daddy fucks you?” “Oh yes!” Just as Ed was about to reach climax he pulled out a blew his load on her face. She began to lap up his warm, creamy, salty spunk. They lay next to each other covered in sweat. Ed’s muscles glistened in the morning light that streamed in from the bedroom window. “Good cardio,” said Edmund. Bianca laughed. “Very good. I’ll go make you that big breakfast,” she said while wiping cum from around her eyes. “Can you walk to the kitchen?” Edmund snickered. She rolled her yes. “I’m used to it.” She got up and walked out of the room with a slight limp. It’s hard to get used to a 9 inch cock. He patted his manhood as he lay on the bed and relaxed. He didn’t know who he liked fucking more: men or women. Really he would fuck anyone as long as he liked the way they looked. He had fucked average guys, muscle guys, twinks, skinny girls, chubby girls, Black, White, Latin, and Asian. Any warm hole for his cock. He had only had two serious relationships, though. One with a guy over a year and a half ago and the one with Bianca. Bianca had walked up to him one night in a bar and asked to feel his arm. Ever one to show off, he struck a front double bicep pose for her. She gawked at his size, and he was smaller then than he was now. She confided in him that she had never been with a bodybuilder before. They fucked that night and had been Fucking ever since. She liked muscle and she liked cooking. Two things that made her perfect for Edmund and the club. Several times a month she would cook for the whole club, but she only had desires for Edmund. She didn’t even have a problem with his bisexuality telling him “I don’t mind if you fuck guys every now and then to satisfy the urge so long as you use protection and I’m the only woman.” Edmond could smell the scent of food wafting from the kitchen. He rose out of bed and put on a pair of boxers. As he entered the kitchen Bianca turned to him. She was topless, wearing only her panties. She often walked around topless when she knew the other club members were out. Thomas was at a photo shoot and Daniel and Brendon were in class. They’d be gone most of the day. “I was just about to call you,” Said Bianca. “Smells good,” Ed said as he sat down at the kitchen table. Bianca began to serve him his breakfast. First she sat a down a six egg cheese omelet with 2 turkey sausage links. Edmond dove in with his fork like he hadn’t eaten in days. While he chewed on eggs and sausage she placed a plate of 3 whole wheat French toasts with whipped cream and berries and a bowl of Greek yogurt and granola in front of him. He wasted no time attacking that a well. She ate two scrambled eggs a piece of toast and a banana. “This is great babe.” Ed managed to say between bites and mmms. Bianca beamed with pride. She loved seeing a man enjoy her cooking. When Ed was done eating he washed the meal down with a tall glass of whole milk. He patted his distended belly. The food baby pushing out his abs made it look like he had a tortoise shell for a stomach. “I won’t be over here much in the next week Eddy Bear,” Said Bianca. “Huh, why?” Ed let out a loud belch. “I’ve got a huge test coming up that I need to study for. When I’m not in class I’ll be studying at my place. Here I might be too distracted.” Her gaze left his face and moved down to his muscles. “Already,” Said Edmond, “School just started back.” “Pre-med,” she said, shaking her head. “It might just kill me.” “With the money you’ll be making I guess the hard work will be worth it,” Edmund said. “After I pay off the student loans.” Bianca stood up and cleared the dishes. She started to wash them. “Don’t,” said Edmund. “You’re gonna wash them?” she looked apprehensive. “We’re going to be breaking in a new house boy on Saturday and I want to make sure he has a lot of work to do.” Bianca stopped, and stared at him. “Is he cute.” “I think so.” Edmund smiled. “He’s smaller than you.” “No way.” She looked surprised. Edmond laughed. “What’s his name?” “Aron Ocampo” “Will you fuck him?” Edmunds face was now serious. “Probably, but I haven’t forgotten our deal. You’re the only one for me baby.” He got up and pecked her on the lips. She looked up at him and seemed satisfied. “Don’t work him too hard baby,” said Bianca. “We’ve got to see what he’s made of. Make sure he’s really a submissive.” Bianca showered and changed into her clothes. Before leaving she informed him that she had fixed his protein shake and put it in the fridge for him to drink later They parted with one final kiss. Edmund put on his workout shorts and headed to the garage gym for a heavy shoulder session. Truthfully, he was glad Bianca would be gone for a week. He wanted to use that time to get to know Aron better. Much better. He hoisted up two 65-pound dumbbells and began to shoulder press them. With each rep he could feel his muscles becoming pumped. He concentrated on the muscle contraction as he watched himself in the mirror. In his mind he wasn’t lifting weights. He was lifting the twink, Aron, over his head again and again. His cock grew hard at the thought of Aron’s frail thin body next to his own robust hulking frame. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. More to come...
  5. The testosterone level was sky high in the auditorium while the people were evacuated brought outside the building. The other guys were in the locker room getting dressed, leaving tan stains all over their clothes. To be such huge men, they were very scared to what was going to happen on the stage. None of them wanted to participate to fight and Kiril well instructed the fellas to leave the stage immediately. The audience leaving the building and stomping their feet while leaving the building sounded like bombs were detonating all over the place. If the two rivals could have had super power, with the anger running through their veins, they probably had the building destroyed in few seconds. Kirill and Adam were staring at each other at long distance, to the opposite side of the stage. "I will destroy you Kirill, I will wreck you, you will be dead by the end of the day" Adam said. Kirill only smiled to such ego and arrogance and replied: "Try me" "You think I came alone, don't you Kirill? Nikolay, came in". A damn huge Russian bodybuilder emerged from the curtain. He was a living tank, taller and bigger compared to the two bodybuilders on the stage. His face was squared and massive, the right structure for his rock hard and muscular body. Nikolay walked toward Kirill, he stopped in front of him, he was a tower compared to the Ukrainian muscleman, he crossed his huge arms over his chest and spoke: "I will smash you" Kirill smiled again and that attitude drove Nikolay insane. Nikolay punched Kirill face, the Ukrainian guys did not move a single inch, like if Nikolay was punching a hard concrete wall. Nikolay was surprised, he tried again but the punch was stopped by Kirill hand. Kirill wrapped his hands over Nikolay's arms like like cling film. Firmly he squeezed his opponent hand. Noise of cracked fingers were heard, Nikolay was brought to his knee, screaming and moaning for the pain. Kirill with an evil look, watched his prey suffering down, while he was still applying pressure to the tank's fingers; few bones snapped and Nikolay screamed louder for each broken finger. The Ukrainian released the hold, Nikolay grabbed his destroyed hand and brought it to his massive chest, he was crying like a baby. "I am not done yet with you, tank" Kirill said. With his left hand he grabbed Nikolay by the jaw and afterwards he was standing with an additional pain on his face. While Kirill grabbed the Russian's over his jaw, he applied so much pressure that he was able to fracture the jaw of the huge guy. Nikolay cried more, Kiril spoke: "You are useless to be so big, I will end you". Kirill got closer to the Russian tank, he wrapped his arms over him locking the big guy in a bearhug. Nikolay's arm were locked in the squeezed, not able to move them. Kirill started applying pressure, Nikolay's arms bent in an unnatural way, his arms were breaking so was his back that was bending backward, Nikolay screamed and cried at the same time with his head reclined to stare the ceiling. Two typed of screamed thundered the auditorium; the pain of Nikolay and the excitement of Kirill. A loud snap boomed the stage, Nikolay's back was broken, his ribs crushed, his arms diverted. Kirill released the hold, Nikolay fell off onto the floor like a bag of potatoes, Adam was shocked and scared at the same time, he could not believe at his own eyes. "Meet the machine, the crushing killing machine" Kirill said, looking at Adam with evil smile and so much proud. Kirill Nikolay Adam:
  6. Anyone know of good places to find pix n vids? https://www.facebook.com/bigdonsboys/
  7. A mixture of pictures and videos. Have a great day! https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5c066828ea045 https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5b1b3192f2e1b http://www.myvidster.com/views/video.php?gtype=video&id=145179811&url_title=Andres_Vergel https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph579d2d4ba365f https://www.gayforit.eu/video/398889/Eric-Parker
  8. Commissioned artwork (by various artists) of my original character Ultrabeef. Original content and artist information is available on my Deviantart page.
  9. The Perfect Couple by Ultrabeef Skyler and Parker finished up their workout and headed to the showers. The cute 20 something gay couple were the envy of all their friends. Their attractive toned bodies and chised features made them look like a couple of fashion models. Skyler had short brown hair and a perfect physique and was in finance however while Parker, blond and also toned, was getting his start in real estate. They were the perfect couple and living the American dream: great realtionship, attractive partner, making great money. As they headed to the locker room a huge roided behemoth blocked their path. They had seen the guy at the gym often; grunting and heaving ridiculously heaving weights in the free weight area while Skyler and Hunter used the treadmills and machines. "Hey bros, looking good out there today" the huge bodybuilder rumbled in his deep bass. "Um, thanks...'bro'" Parker replied, somewhat sarcastically as Skyler nudged him hissing "Shut up, do you want to get us killed?". The huge guy, ignoring the latent sarcasm continued "My name's Ian. Ian Walsh." The two hunky twinks stared at him blankly until he continued "And you are?". "Oh...um...sorry" Skyler muttered, realizing his rudeness. "I'm Skyler" he smiled weakly extending his hand that was almost ripped off by the huge meaty paw of Ian. "Nice to meet you Skyler. Who's your friend?" "I'm Parker. Skyler’s boyfriend" Parker replied with an emphasis on "boyfriend" in case Ian might have gotten the wrong idea. "Nice to meet you too" Ian purred, grabbing Parker’s arm and shaking his hand roughly. "You know, I've been watching you two for a while" Ian continued as Skyler and Parker looked at each other confusedly. Ian continued unphased "I think a couple attractive guys like yourself would look awesome with some muscle mass on you". As he spoke Ian bounced his pecs in his sweaty stringer tank. Skyler's eyes widened and the bulging beef in front of him. "Um. Thanks but I think we're good" Parker politely replied. "Well, that's a shame. If you dudes change your mind and want to get huge and jacked like me, give me a call". Ian flexed his huge bicep as he handed Skyler & Parker a plain, white business card. On it were the words "Ian Welsh, Muscle Growth Specialist" and a phone number. "Thanks" Parker replied. "Um, yeah...thanks" Skyler mumbled as Parker shoved him toward the showers. That evening, as Parker packed for a trip home from the big city to visit his parents, Skyler was uncharacteristically quiet. "What's on your mind babe?" Parker asked, snapping Skyler out of his daze. "Oh...nothing" Skyler lied. "Come on, I know that look. What's up?" Skyler sighed "It's that freaky musclehead at the gym. He really got inside my head today”. "What? You're kidding right? You don't want to be some huge musclehead. Do you?" Parker paused and looked at Skyler's face. "I...I guess not. I mean who wants to be some overgrown freak, right?" Skyler laughed. "Yeah!" Parker laughed too but was troubled by Skyler's strange behavior. Parker had arrived back from his parents' house early Sunday morning and had jumped in the shower. As he got out of the shower and dressed he could hear Skyler making breakfast in the kitchen. "Hey sweetie! You're up! I'll be right there" Parker called from the bathroom. "Hey babe, eggs ok for breakfast?" Skyler called in a rough, deep voice from the kitchen. "Eggs? You always have a kale smoothie. And what's with your voice? Are you coming down with a cold sweetie?" Parker was saying as he entered the kitchen and froze in his tracks. There at the stove, with his back to Parker, was an enormous bodybuilder. He was wearing a tattered t-shirt that had the sleeves ripped off to accomodate his thick, gorilla-like arms. His back was impossibly wide and tapered to a relatively small waist. The guy had a big, thick bubble butt that was straining against his pajama shorts. His legs were thick and corded with muscle. Then the guy turned around and Parker gasped "S...Skyler?!" The huge guy bounced his ample pecs and smiled "Mornin babe". “Wha...what the fuck did you do to yourself?!” Parker gasped taking in the freakish bodybuilder his boyfriend had become. Skyler smirked a cocky grin as he adjusted the thick cock that bulged obscenely in his shorts. “I gave that Ian guy from the gym a call, babe” Skyler flexed his freakish arms in a double bicep pose and grinned “you like?” “Um, fuck no!” Parker snarled. “You look like some overgrown roid-head, the kind of guy we always made fun of at the gym! You’ve got to turn yourself back to normal! I mean how is it even possible to transform your body like this in just a few days?!” Skyler was getting worked up and shouting at his huge boyfriend. “I think I look hot. And so does Ian” Parker mumbled, “besides, I can’t transform back, it’s permanent”. “How are you going to even go to work looking like that? You’re disgusting. All veiny and bulging. None of your suits will even fit!” Parker staggered to the kitchen chair and slammed himself down. He was so upset and confused. Two days ago he and his hot toned boyfriend were living their dream life and now Skyler had ruined everything with his ridiculous muscle growth. “I can’t believe you’re acting like this babe” Skyler put his huge hand on Parker’s shoulder. “Don’t touch me, you freak!” Parker screamed causing the massive Skyler to pull his hand away. “I’m going to the gym” Skyler mumbled grabbing his gym bag. “To meet up with that asshole Ian?” “Yeah, probably. Why? You got a problem with that?” Skyler flexed his pecs intimidatingly at Parker. “No. Why should I care?” Parker mumbled, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face. “Look babe. I love you! I don’t give a fuck about Ian. I always wanted to be a big manly guy and now I am. I love feeling so strong and masculine. I thought you’d love it too. I guess I was wrong.” “Yeah, I guess so” Parker sobbed. “Look, I’ll be back later and we can talk, ok?” Skyler’s looked so dejected that Parker just mumbled “sure” instead of telling him off. Skyler kissed Parker on the head before waddling to the door, his massive back as wide as the doorway. As Parker sat in the silence of the empty apartment he wiped the tears away from his chiseled cheeks. Then he went to his bedroom and reached into his gym bag. He pulled out the card Ian had given him with his number “Ian Walsh, Muscle Growth Specialist”. Pulling out his cell phone, Parker dialed the number on the card. “Yeah” a deep gruff voice answered. “Um, is this Ian?” Parker sheepishly asked. “Sure is dude”. “Um, my name is Parker. We met at the gym last week. You um “helped” my boyfriend Skyler”. “Ha! Hell yeah, I remember you, sarcastic little punk. l wondered how long it would take you to call.” “Uh, yeah, I...” Parker, not usually at a loss for words stammered. “I’ll be right over” Ian growled and the phone went dead. “Shit!”mumbled Parker to himself, “what have I done?” Within a few minutes there was a loud knock on the door, Parker opened it to find the massive Ian standing there. Ian was wearing white spandex shorts that could barely contain his massive cock and glutes and a black stringer tank that left little to the imagination as his wide pecs and shoulders bulged from the flimsy shirt. “Um, hi. Come in” Parker weakly invited Ian into the apartment. “It seems like I was here only yesterday! Oh, I guess I was here yesterday!” Ian laughed a deep, mocking laugh. “So, what can I do for you cutie?” Ian eyed Parker up and down, “damn, I hope Skyler realizes how lucky he is to have a hottie like you!” Parker blushed uneasily and looked toward the floor, his former sarcasm drained in the presence of the large bodybuilder. “So, do you like how Skyler turned out? Awesome, isn’t it?” “Actually, no. I hate it. You have to change him back.” Parker replied, finding his voice. “Change him back?!” Ian laughed again in his deep hearty laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? He’s a total uber muscle stud now! I saved him from being a nobody! Plus, the change is permanent!” Parker stared glumly at the floor, not sure what to say. “Oh fuck, is that why you called me? To change Skyler back?” the realization dawning on Ian. “Well, of course, why did you think I called you?” “Well,” Ian smiled dangerously, “I thought you wanted to get huge too!” Now it was Parker’s turn to laugh, “you’ve got to be kidding me! Who would want to be a fucking roid-head muscle freak like you?” “Well, your boyfriend seems to like “being a freak” as you say” Ian advanced menacingly toward Parker. “Personally, I think a handsome cocky little shit like you could use an attitude adjustment and some manly muscle like this!” Ian bounced his huge pecs in Parker’s face before roughly shoving him against the wall. Parker yelled “Stay away from me, you fucking freak, or I’ll...” “You’ll what?” Ian smiled an evil grin. “You’re gonna be so fucking hot when I get through with you”. With one huge muscular arm pinning Parker against the living room wall Ian whipped out a large syringe filled with green liquid and quickly jabbed it into Parker’s chest with his free hand. “What the FUCK!!” Parker screamed, “what the fuck did you do?”. “Well, considering Skyler paid for our 2 for 1 special, I just completed his order” Ian grinned. “Skyler did what?” Parker asked in a daze as his head started to cloud over and a buzzed sensation filled his brain. “Oh, this is my favorite part!” Ian sat on the sofa to watch the show as Parker staggered toward a chair to keep his balance. “Wha...what’s happening?” Parker mumbled in confusion. “What’s happening is you’re about to grow into a nice big bodybuilder boyfriend for Skyler” Ian purred. “No...fuck! This can’t be happening!” As he spoke, Parker looked down and saw his hands swelling larger, his forearms expanding wider stretching his Oxford dress shirt. “Urrggh!” Parker growled as his muscles started to swell larger. “Fuck...no! I...don’t...want...to be a...freak!” Parker panted as his shirt grew tighter and tighter, he could see his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt and could feel his shoulders and back stretching the shirt tight as they grew wider with each passing moment. Parker grunted as be felt a heaviness forming in his chest. “Oh fuck! No!Not my pecs!” Parker tried to hold his shirt closed as his chest swelled with beefy brawn going from toned to swoll. “Oh fuck yeah!” Ian was sitting on the edge of the couch and was stroking his hard, thick dick as he watched Parker’s shirt burst open sending buttons spraying across the room and allowing his swelling pecs the freedom they desired. Parker’s chest heaved and the weight of his burgeoning pecs forced his expanding nipples toward the floor as a deep crevice formed between them. Parker could feel his abs bulging, from the perfect six pack that he was so proud of and was the envy of all the guys and girls at work, into a thick, hard, muscle gut. His swelling midsection caused his tight skinny jeans to burst open at the waist. “Shit, shit! Shit!” Parker moaned, his voice deepening to a rich baritone as his neck thickened. His quads were thickening as well, easily shredding open his jeans at the seams, his calves swelling into perfect pillars of muscle. Parker could feel his butt growing too. No longer a cute, toned, bubble butt Parker could feel his glutes swelling into a huge, thick, muscle-ass. As Ian shot his load across his spandex shorts, Parker’s growth began to slow. “What the fuck have you done to me?!” Parker growled in his newly deep voice. He staggered to the bathroom mirror and took in the sight of his new body. Too engrossed in what he was seeing to notice Ian sneaking out the door, but not before texting Skyler “your order is complete, and I think you’ll love the results”. As soon as Skyler received Ian’s text he cut his workout short and hurried home. As he entered the apartment he could tell something was different. The living room and kitchen were a mess, furniture was out of place and overturned and the smell of manly musk and cum was thick in the air. Skyler hurried to the bedroom but it was empty. “Parker? Are you here?” Skyler called out. “I’m right here babe.” The deep, rumbling bass shocked Skyler, he slowly turned around and gasped. Standing in the doorway (filling it actually) was a massive blond bodybuilder. He was totally jacked, thick veins and stretch marks snaked across his skin. His face was still chiseled like Parker with high cheekbones, full pouty lips, and a wide jaw, but it was dusted with scruff giving him a dangerous, manly look. The hulking muscle beast was squeezed into a white thong, wet with cum, that attempted to contained his massive cock. “Holy shit! Parker?! Is that really you?” Skyler breathlessly moaned. “Oh you better believe it babe!” Parker raised his arms into a wicked double bicep pose and bounced his ample pecs. “I...I’m sorry to turn you into a freak, like me, but...” Skyler suddenly felt badly, overcome with the realization that the old Parker was gone forever. “Fuck babe! Are you kidding me? Look at me, I’m fucking jacked! And I’m all yours, stud.” Parker rubbed his muscle gut causing Skyler to moan softly. “You like all this beef babe?” Parker turned around and bent over the bed revealing his huge, thick muscle ass. “Oh fuck!” Skyler purred, ripping his gym shorts off revealing his raging boner. “Fill me with that big dick, babe” Parker moaned as Skyler mounted the hulking stud.
  10. by Brandedx2 (Like this story? Find more tales of huge guys getting taken down a peg at my tumblr and if you have a custom tale you want me to spin up for you, let me know! I do commissions.) People could tell, Rob knew. He had clients to train, he still had a workout to get in himself (if it even mattered, now), so he was stuck there at Global Gym. He had a reputation at Global as the biggest bodybuilder in a gym full of heavy competitors. He was also known as one of the most approachable guys in the gym, imposing in stature but by all means a gentle giant. He had a number of fans in the gym’s clientele, as well as the gym’s owner Clem and his idolizing son Terry. Everybody cheered when he got his pro card the previous year, all in agreement that there wasn’t a more deserving athlete around. Rob was used to having all eyes on him. But after what Tuck had done to him that day, those eyes made his veins cold. Between clients Rob eyed the scale outside the locker room. He’d been avoiding it all day, terrified of what it was going to tell him. He tried to let his eyes, the way his body felt, be enough, but he had to know. He hopped on the scale and looked down: 240. That morning, when he’d weighed himself after getting out of bed, he’d been 284. He’d walked in the gym that size. And then, standing in the locker room, he heard the shrill laugh of his least favorite “client” and turned around to see skinny, tattooed little Tuck in his usual tight wife-beater and cargo shorts, cracking his knuckles and looking Rob up and down with a look that always made the big bodybuilder shiver. “…just a little bit?” Rob said, side-eyeing Tuck, wishing he could get away from the little guy who was inching closer to him. “…just for a little while?” “Big fella!” Tuck said with a laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like having me around. Yeah just a little, yeah just for a little bit.” Rob looked around quickly to make sure no one was around when it happened (Tuck probably didn’t even care—he didn’t care about much) and then Tuck, wiggling his fingers wildly, reached out and poked him. He felt a sudden chill, and just like that, the size drained right out of Rob and into Tuck (forty-four pounds, he would find out later). His shorts fell to the ground and his tank top hung down like a dress without the rest of his bulk to fill it out. By all accounts he was still a big man, but nowhere near the massive size he’d been a moment before. Tuck looked like a heavy-weight prize fighter with all of the extra mass, and he’d even got taller. He shadow-boxed a bit, flexed his new muscles while Rob sadly examined his own diminished form. Tuck gave him a shove (he stumbled forward, not expecting the sudden force and his own lack of mass) and then took off. Rob had clothes he kept in the bottom of his gym bag for the times that Tuck “borrowed” from him; they were his old workout clothes from several years before, back before he’d gained the mass that made him a terror to the superheavyweights onstage. He remembered being that size and feeling big, but going back to it was too much. What was worse, the smaller shorts and t-shirt still looked baggy on him. Rob was used to stretching XXXLs to the limit, and he couldn’t even fill out an XL. Tuck had taken more that day than ever before. There was nothing Rob could do to fight it. Tuck had all the power. He had to play nice and wait until Tuck was done playing around with his mass, until he decided to give it back. That feeling of weakness was almost too much for Rob to bear. “What’s up big man?” said Leon, a big powerlifter and Rob’s occasional lifting partner, taking a break from his heavy squats. Leon used to say Rob was the only guy big enough to spot him. Rob nodded back as they passed each other, terribly aware of the difference in their sizes. Rob hadn’t felt that small next to somebody in awhile. Later on his client Carlos turned to him during posing practice, while holding a front double bi, and smirked in his direction. “Hey, Big Rob, my guns are looking big as yours, no?” Carlos took a step toward him to compare. Rob backed away and swatted at him. “In your dreams, buddy,” he said. “You’re good. Hit the locker room.” Meanwhile across the gym, Tuck was curling a loaded barbell with sloppy form, showing off for a few spandex-clad ladies doing lunges nearby. Girls had always been the core of Tuck’s objectives in stealing size from him, Rob noticed. At the end of the day, Rob paced around the locker room, a little panicked. He hadn’t seen Tuck in a couple of hours, and after searching the entire gym Rob couldn’t find him. “Oh, hey Rob,” Clem said, walking through the gym about to lock up. “I didn’t know you were still here. I can leave you the keys if you still want to work out.” Rob felt a pit in his stomach. What if Tuck took off this time? It would take years to build all that size back, if Tuck’s power even allowed that possibility. “Uh… Thanks, Clem, I think I’m gonna hang out here for a bit if you don’t mind.” Clem smiled and tossed Rob the keys. “You in a heavy cut phase or something?” Clem said, looking him up and down. “You look like you dropped some pounds.” “I’ll be bulked back up again soon enough,” Rob said, praying that was the truth. Tuck strode in with a loose swagger over an hour later. Rob would’ve knocked the kid out if he wasn’t so terrified of the kid. “Sorry, Bobby,” Tuck said, scratching his crotch. “I was plowing this chick out in the parking lot just now. She could not get enough of this!” he said, gesturing to his physique. “Oh, man, what’d you think I wasn’t coming back? Bobby, you wound me, buddy. You really wound me.” Rob shrugged and feigned a smile. “Naw, I knew you were coming back.” “I suppose you want to go back to normal,” Tuck said. Rob bit his lip and clenched his fists. “Man, you are such a big baby sometimes, Bobby. You’re lucky I love you.” Then he flicked Rob right in the forehead. Rob’s mass returned in an instant, and he felt a sudden pain all over as he burst through his clothes. They fell to tatters and Rob stood there, massive and naked, his posture finally relaxing after a brutal day. Tuck burst into riotous laughter at the sight of the giant man exploding out of his clothes. “Bobby, you are ridiculous, buddy!” said Tuck, once again five feet and a hundred pounds. He walked out of the locker room and Rob patted himself down, thankful to be himself again. That was all Rob heard of Tuck for awhile. Usually he could count on a visit from Tuck every month, whenever the little guy was itching for girls at the gym, but several months passed and Rob was relieved to find that Tuck didn’t come around. His career started turning up, as well: he got a huge sponsorship deal, a photoshoot with Flex magazine, and Clem asked him to be the face of Global gym. The first day it was unveiled, Rob looked humbly at the larger-than-life size poster of himself, twenty-feet tall, outside Global gym. He couldn’t believe where his hard work had taken him, and he couldn’t have asked for a better place to do work. Terry, Clem’s beefy son, greeted Rob at the door. “Your picture looks awesome!” Terry said with stars in his eyes. “Thanks Terry,” Rob said warmly. “One of these days you’re gonna be up there.” “There’s Big Hollywood!” Leon said and punched him in the shoulder. All eyes in the gym were on Rob. He couldn’t feel prouder, until he walked into the locker room and saw Tuck standing there. “Bobby! You’re a big deal now, aren’t ya!” Tuck said, arms crossed, a sly grin on his face. “Aw, Bobby, you always clench up when you see me. If I didn’t know better I’d think you weren’t happy to have me around!” Rob looked around quickly to make sure the locker room was clear. “Uh… Tuck, I… what do you… doing?” Tuck smiled. “Relax, big Bobby.” He pulled out a wad of cash. “This time we’re gonna train. Regular. Big man teaches little guy how to lift weights. Deal?” He extended a hand. Rob, relieved, shook it. “Finally want to start adding some mass of your own, huh?” Tuck handed over the cash. “Look, Tuck, if you’re really serious, I can take over your diet, your supplementation… Hell, I can get you juice if you want it. Just say the word, buddy.” Tuck started stripping out of his clothes, stood there naked, a little awkwardly close to Rob. “See, thing is, Bobby, there’s this chick out there right now who will blow your MIND. Huge tits, ass like heaven, body that looks like it was built to fuck… Man, she’s got me DROOLING, Bobby, but she’s only into massive guys. Like big giant freaks your size.” Rob grinned as he put his gym bag in the locker. “Don’t worry, Tuck. I won’t steal her from you.” Tuck, still naked, bounced his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not worried about that one bit, big Bobby.” Then he grabbed a handful of Rob’s big back. It hit Rob hard this time, like needles everywhere. His body compressed so fast everything was a blur, and he found himself stumbling around, his arms and legs suddenly tangled up. His head ached for a moment, and he felt like he was going to throw up… then the vertigo passed and he looked around, shocked at how much bigger the locker room had gotten. His tank top and compression tights were tented around him, and as he stood he watched his whole body slide through the neck hole. His body—that couldn’t be his body! Still tan, but tiny all over, a size he’d never been even in adolescence: shoulders, arms, legs, chest, all so narrow and bony. Even his dick was tiny now, and he put one tiny hand down to block it. He felt exhausted, and like he was moving in slow motion. Then he noticed the huge shadow cast over him. “Fuck YEAH!” roared a low, bovine voice. The sudden eruption scared Rob so much he tumbled over, his little heart pounding rapidly at the sight before him: Tuck was ENORMOUS, every part of him bloated with massive muscle, skill covered in tattoos which made the presentation all the more intimidating. Tuck aggressively hit a crab shot and grinned at the mirror—Rob had never seen anybody so big! Terrified, he scrambled backwards, eager to get away from the giant man stomping and flexing and growling. “Where do you think you’re going?” Tuck said, tossing his old wife-beater and shorts at Rob. “You agreed to a training session. Only it’s gonna be me showing YOU how to move weights, little man! Get dressed little guy. I’m gonna borrow your old clothes—seeing as you couldn’t use them for anything but a circus tent!” Tuck gave his now-massive cock a swing. “Hopefully I can fit all this in there,” he laughed as he pulled on Rob’s clothes, which fit like skin. “Let’s go little guy.” Rob felt like he was going to be sick as he walked out on the floor. He had to take two steps just to keep up with giant Tuck’s long stride. All eyes were on them—or rather, they were on the massive tattooed beast Tuck had become. Rob was shaking. He was terrified that someone would recognize him, but as he walked out, he realized nobody was even looking at him. That was almost worse. “Grab some dumbbells, little man,” Tuck barked. “Time to do some curls.” He crossed his arms and smirked down his chest at Rob. Rob headed over to the weight rack—how much would he be able to lift? He looked toward the smaller weights. He reached for the 20s, but a young guy—a guy who had asked for Rob’s autograph and some lifting advice the day before—elbowed him out of the way and grabbed them himself. Rob grabbed the 15s and walked over to Tuck, who tilted his chin at him. “What are you waiting for? Curl!” Tuck growled. Rob strained. He couldn’t believe he could get his arms to bend. “I… I can’t…” he said quietly, shocked at how soft and high-pitched his voice was now. Tuck laughed and slapped his knee. “Are you serious? You can’t even curl those?” He walked over and grabbed some 80s. “Lemme show how to curl, little guy!” His form was sloppy but his massive physique still impressed everybody around. Tuck winked at a blonde fitness model nearby. Her name was Catherine, Rob knew; she did only go for monsters. She’d been flirting with him a lot that week, and he’d thought about giving her his number. “Go get some water,” Tuck said, racking his dumbbells and heading over to Catherine. Rob was stunned by the height of the water fountain, which was now at about eye-level to him. He stood on his tiptoes to reach it, barely getting water in his mouth. He turned around and ran into what felt like a brick wall—it was Leon, who looked GIGANTIC to Rob now. “Watch where you’re going,” Leon said politely, yanking little Rob to his feet with one hand. Rob glanced across the weight room and saw beastly Tuck, now making his pecs dance while he chatted with Catherine. He had a little time, he figured, so he quickly headed to the locker room. His gym bag felt massive to him as he fished it out of his locker—it was bigger than he was now! He had to text his clients and reschedule before they showed up. As he struggled with the zippers, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That doesn’t belong to you, sir!” A strong hand yanked little Rob away from the bag, and another yanked the bag away from him. It was Terry, who was now twice the size of Rob. Terry gave little Rob a shove. “Theft is grounds for termination of membership.” “I-I wasn’t stealing!” Rob pleaded. “I was just… I thought it was mine.” “What’s your membership number?” Terry asked with an eyebrow raised. “0-1-6-1-1,” Rob blurted out, suddenly realizing Terry had no doubt memorized his number. “Uh-uh,” Terry said, grabbing Rob forcefully. “You’re outta here.” Rob begged him to stop, told him he could explain (even though he had no idea what he would say) but still Terry very easily dragged little Rob to the door while everyone in the gym stared at the scene. “My coach!” Rob begged, pointing at Tuck, who was too wrapped up in Catherine’s admiration of his giant body to notice. “He’ll explain!” “Nope,” said Terry, shoving Rob hard. “Beat it, or I’m calling the cops, reporting you for theft and trespassing.” Flat on his back outside Global Gym, Rob stared up at the giant image of himself at full-size and burst into tears. It was too much. He looked up and saw Terry on the phone inside and quickly pulled himself to his feet and walked to his car. He tried the locked doors, realizing that his keys were inside, in a bag that belonged to someone he didn’t look like anymore. He walked around to the opposite side of the car and crouched down as it began to rain. Everything would be fine, he told himself—as soon as Tuck set things back to normal, everything would be fine. Hours later he saw Tuck strutting from the gym, holding Catherine’s hand. Rob stood up and sprinted for the two—but they were on Tuck’s crotch rocket before he could get there. Tuck sped away, never even acknowledging little Rob, stood there in shock, wondering if he was ever going to see Tuck again.
  11. So, I was talking with my friend the other day. She is a very direct girl, who doesn’t hold any secrets - perfectly blunt, in every way - and she is like that when she approaches men. She can afford to be because she is 26 years old, average height for a girl, intelligent, funny and hot - the full package. I will not name her here. One day, at a gym that she frequents with her boyfriend, with whom she is in an open relationship, she decides to approach this incredibly handsome guy, who also is a devoted gym-goer. He too seemed oh-so-very much like a good deal. Young, witty, but also very tall (198 cm, or 6'6 in retard units) and, clearly, quite strong. Through her telling, my friend recalled the ease with which he did pull-ups. This is his Instagram pic, I was told. At some point my friend started up conversations with the guy, whose name is Philip, she tells me, and through the weeks of getting together at the gym and through Facebook comments, she saw that she has a lot in common with Philip, especially when it comes to their preferences for genres in movies and books. She also noticed that he is into her. One day, they decide to get together after the gym. With my friend there is no beating around the bush. They went straight to his place - no dates, no romantic walks. She had already learned his humor, likes and dislikes. She wanted to know his primal side now. What is he like when passion takes hold of him? She got more than she bargained for. “Can you imagine what he must’ve looked like after the gym that evening? All that testosterone brimming inside him…” my friend recalled. She remembered him being larger than ever before due to the pump he was having. Veins were jumping out of him. Probably looked like this other pic from his Insta account. When they got into his bedroom, my friend couldn’t help but marvel at how the entire place was well organised and tidy. The bedroom was spacious, so he had set up a pull-up bar and a heavy-looking punching bag. There were also quite a number of large mirrors, which made the room appear bigger than it actually is. Another set of mirrors was near the bed - one on the wall on the side of it, and the other stuck to the sealing above the bed. By the time they got to the bed, their clothes were shed. This is, by the way, where she finally got a good look at his beautifully shaped ass. At first, he was being very gentle with her as they were starting foreplay and kissing. However, at some point, my friend said that she started to goad him, so that he would become more rough with her. I think she likes it that way. After a slap here, a wicked laugh there, he grew increasingly - and visibly - annoyed… He wasn’t amused at all. He grabbed her by her arms and forcefully picked her up with great ease, as if to correct her behaviour. Then, he laid her back onto the bed with some frustration. She described his face as barely containing anger and remembers his loud breathing. He got up, nude, with every muscle and every vein visible on his large tight body, and he walked furiously across the room in circles. The muscle mass on him, combined with his imposing height, makes him weigh at around 115 kilos - nearly twice her weight. His steps were booming. He then took a sturdy metal chair from a corner of the room and placed it in front of the bed. Still annoyed, he said to her “come here.” She could tell from his tone that he was in no mood for hesitation, so she got up from the bed and walked up to the chair. He impatiently turned her away from himself and picked her up off the floor onto the seat, so that her behind would face him. It looked to her that this was his version of foreplay, so she was still looking forward to what may come out of this all. He entered her vagina with his decent-sized dick and thrusted strong enough that her knees were no longer touching the chair, which was there to support them in the first place. It felt good, albeit a little violent. While she was moaning, she looked up into the mirror by the bed and saw that Philip was focused solely onto himself in the reflection. She said that she thought at the time “Fuck, I’d be looking at myself if I were as gorgeous as him”. He was staring into his own eyes and into the glistening muscles of his own large and powerful body while practically holding her 60 kilos constantly in the air. He was going like that for several minutes. When he finally turned his focus to the girl he was thrusting, she felt that he was getting a bit flaccid. Not too much, for he was still a clear presence inside of her. Philip leaned over her back and stretched his arm down, next to her head. He was again gazing at their reflection in the mirror, but now he had a renewed hardness to his dick. My friend said that she was enjoying the feel of his strength imposed on her, and said that it was even more than she had hoped for. He certainly knew how to move down there, not just simple thrusts. She was genuinely enjoying it, but she was still able to see that Philip was actually focusing now on the monstrous size of his own arm when put next to her significantly smaller body. He flexed it so that the peak of his bicep would be right next to her head. She remembered how she rubbed her head against his bicep and feeling that rock-like hardness. Then, she told me, something unexpected happened. He got out of her, then proceeded to put her back on the bed. He placed the chair on the bed too, so that it was above her head. Now he was above her, and she was facing him, and their sex organs reunited. He was straddling her like a mighty lion, and he appeared inhumanly large above her. All she could see were his stone-hard abs and huge pecs as they were thrusting up and down, along with her entire body. Here comes the weird part. He looks down into her eyes. She was feeling a mixture of ecstasy and fear in that moment. He was insanely hot, even in this moment of bestial mindlessness, yet everything that was going on escaped even her wildest fantasies, and I can tell you, my friend has some wild imagination. It was in that moment when he grabbed ahold of the chair and, while looking into my friend’s eyes, proceeded to crush it! It was here that fear completely took over in my friend’s mind. Crushing that chair is no small feat. According to my friend, it had a steel frame with elements of hard wood and was quite heavy and solid. Philip squeezed it with his powerful hands while relentlessly looking into my friend’s eyes. Soon, the chair’s frame gave way to his pressure and started to grind and crack loudly. By this point my friend was petrified with terror at what she was seeing. Philip was practically turning from a prince into a savage monster before her very eyes. He groaned with his deep and booming voice as he was distorting and destroying the chair. He was looking with his cold unyielding eyes deep into her while he was doing it. He pinned the frame of the chair next to the girl’s petrified naked body and ripped the bars towards himself. She could do nothing but watch silently this monstrous display of power because she was helpless. The strength that was needed to pull and rip the steel outward was bordering inhuman. Looking at those dark, cruel eyes of his, she was actually afraid… that he was going to switch the chair with her at some point. Philip got off of her and violently launched the remains of what used to be a chair onto the wall, shattering it into bits that scattered on the floor. His wrath wasn’t subsiding, though. He then furiously launched hits at his punching bag. The whole building was shaking at the shockwaves that his punching produced. His precise movement and enormous strength with which he was hitting made it evident that had the bag been human, there would be no more life left in it. During this unbelievably intense moment, my friend’s wits came back to her, and she thought of a way to prevent things from escalating. She got off the bed to her feet and silently said his name in a calm manner. “Philip?”, in response to which he stopped his punching and looked at her. His chest was heaving from deep breaths, and his pumped up muscles were covered with sweat. She approached him carefully, barely containing her shivering, knowing full well that he might lunge at her. This time, however, she had gotten to know him a bit. She took his large hand and brought him to one of the mirrors. The blood was coming back to his cock at the sight of his own reflection. In that moment, he was a personification of power - a god of strength and beauty. Every muscle fiber was bursting on him. He was enormous, bigger than life. He wanted to turn around towards her, but she stopped him from doing that, lest he get some new ideas. She stood behind him so that his frame would completely eclipse her from the mirror. Only her hands were visible because she was caressing his muscles gently. He realised that it felt good that his god-like body is finally receiving some worshiping. His dick was insanely hard now. He looked at himself as the petit female hands were passing over the massive landscape of his sculpted V-shaped torso. He flexed his arms and allowed my friend to feel the enormity of power emanating from his hard lats, triceps, and biceps. He knew that nothing could stop him in this moment if he went on a rampage, but getting some love and appreciation for the body he had painstakingly built over the years felt much more rewarding. He could no longer contain himself. His breathing and his twitching stiff cock became a signal of the fact that he could no longer fight his sexual urges. My friend realised that, so she jerked him off. When he laid down on the bed, she gladly sucked him because she was relieved. He came in a torrent of sperm. My friend told me about this with clear fear and disbelief at the events she was describing, but I, for whatever reason, felt like it was the sexiest thing I had ever heard. She says that they are still friends, and I still see his comments on her posts, but she said that that day’s experience is something she is not eager to repeat… I barely contained my breathing as she was describing all of this to me. What did you feel? This is based on true events that happened more than half a year ago. Here is another picture of “Philip”. I hear that he finally understood what a beauty he is, so now he took to modelling.
  12. Has anyone seen the nice big bodybuilder type bouncer working at Capo's Deli in DC? He's definitely got that off-season bodybuilder look, huge arms, thick belly and everywhere else was thick and muscular. He has a really rugged look. Could have been Middle Eastern, but I was trying to to watch the muscle without being too obvious and wasn't paying too close attention to much beyond his size and muscle. Can't wait to get another look at him!
  13. That single clips recorded with a Smartphone went viral on the web and from it to all the breaking news. It was a carnage took place in a pitch. A strongman competition transformed into mayhem, a blood bath. Two small bodybuilders that destroyed the newly crowned strongman on planet earth in front of a scared crowd. Chris Fitzpatrick and Andy Polhill then disappeared with their master Josh Maley from the radars. An elite team was formed after that event to find and bring them to justice to be persecuted. Among the people on planet earth the selection of the elements brought to three skilled people in fighting, three bodybuilders, three strongmen, and three fighters from the cold and Nordic areas of the planet. Ole Kristian Vaaga, Soren Falby and Arild Haugen. Three super soldier, highly skilled, muscular, strong, powerful and deadly in combat. The goal was to bring the three men back and alive. The location, where the three killers were hiding, was found with the help of the intelligence. A helicopter was carrying the super soldier to the “secret” location. With the trio, other two small (compared to the beasts) were on board. A guy was admiring Ole’s huge bicep, he never saw a so muscular and huge in his life, he swallowed his saliva when the Nordic gorilla realised that he had eyes on him. “You can touch it if you really desire” Ole said. The soldier, scared, almost reached Ole’s bicep. “There is a price to pay, anyway” Ole said. The soldier stopped, fretting. “What is the price Sir?” the soldier asked. “I have to take your life” Ole replied. The soldier retracted his paw, Soren laughed and the poor man almost pissed his pants off. The laugh was interrupted when the pilot announced that they were about to land, about 50 miles away from the location. It was 2.00 am and it was pitch black. The three monsters jumped off the helicopter after landing. Ole tuned to the soldier and said as he flexed his bicep: “I was only joking; you can touch my huge and monstrous bicep”. This time with courage, the soldier put his hands over that rock hard amount of muscular fibres, it was like touching pure marble, he had an erection, Ole was pleased and smirked. The soldier smiled, Ole placed his huge hands over the soldier’s face and with soft tone of voice said: “I see you enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Ole asked. “Yes Sir, I did, very much indeed” the soldier replied. Ari and Soren were watching the maps few feet away. “You know who we are and what we are going to do; justice but you know our name?” Ole asked. “Your name Sir, I am confused, you are Ole, the bearded one is Soren and the strongman is Ari” the soldier replied. “Good boy but I mean our team!” Ole pointed out. “No Sir” the soldier replied. “We are the Baltic Butchers and you know why?” Oled asked. “No sir, why?” the soldier asked. “Because we butcher people” Ole underlined. “Cool name Sir” the soldier replied. “And…I am going to butcher you now” Ole said. That was last thing that the soldier heard and with a quick movement, Ole twisted the soldier’s head of 180 degrees clockwise and with another movement of 180 degrees anti-clockwise. A noise of broken bones echoed through the forest and the lifeless body of the soldier’s fell off the helicopter. “Stupid dick of a soldier!” the pilot said to the co-pilot. “Another one is gone, he didn’t have to talk to the butchers. That’s a way to become food for them” the co-pilot replied. Arid had a hard-on for that noise and Ole knew about that fact. Ole turned and joined the team that disappeared after few minutes. The helicopter left the wood. The Baltic Butchers walked in darkness for an hour until they reached the secret location. Josh Maley was tall, huge, heavy, muscular and strong. His appearance was intimidating standing 6’3’’ and 330 lbs with long beard and a Mohawk haircut; he was by far one of the heaviest and strongest bodybuilders of the iron business. The puny strongmen that show their power in those ridiculous “power shows” were nothing compared to him and he showed how to crush the life out under the shocked eyes of the audience, his victim, his prey, the brand newly crowned strongman in the world, The Mountain. Josh was heavily training in his private gym at an undisclosed location, after the show of pure strength and domination his two friends demonstrated, he along with Chris and Andy decided to retire in a secret location in order to avoid the riots that they caused some weeks before. The news was broadcasted all over the world, the video filmed with a Smartphone, of Josh, Andy and Chris’s taking the life out of The Mountain’s went viral and all the newspapers were talking about the carnage done. The UFC and MMA became less popular after that episode as the video itself showed the real meaning of domination and destruction. The door was unhinged as a bomb was exploded right beneath. It flew away for several feet, thundering all over the house. Josh, Andy and Chris were downstairs training and they suddenly stopped as they heard that sound. They looked at one other and as fast as they could, they ran upstairs. Three huge figures emerged from the darkness, three Nordic Giants well known in fame as the “Baltic Butchers”, Ole Kristian Vaaga, Soren Falby and Ari Haulden. The three guys arrived upstairs and those three figures were standing few feet away from the door with the dust still flying around their massive bodies. “Who the fuck are you” Chris asked. “We are the Baltic Butchers” Soren said with a deep tone of voice. Josh soundly laughed. “After the Mountain, we are going to crush these puny Vikings” Andy said watching his friends and laughing. The three Butchers, laughed back at him. “You did a huge mistake, wrecking out friend’s body and you will pay for this” Ari said, a huge and tattooed muscle man. “We have already destroyed your friend’s body, it will be very easy to kill you all” Chris replied. “Do you best, dwarf”, Ole replied. Andy got angry and ran over Ole, some feet before reaching the Nordic body, he jumped with the intent to punch the guy’s face with a flying punch but he landed over Ole’s body that promptly wrapped around Andy’s body and without wasting his time, Andy’s body was trapped in those huge and rock hard arms. Ole started squeezing the Scottish guy, he tried to punch the beast but Ole increased the grip, Andy screamed and spitted some blood. “I fucking squeeze the shit out of you Mr Scotland”. Andy’s body bent as the compression increased more and more. Ole released the hold after few second, after hearing Andy’s bones snapping, he wanted to have more fun. He left the broken body falling off the floor. He grabbed the Scottish by his right ankle and like the hulk, he smashed his body over the floor throwing Andy six times, as he was a ragdoll. “I call this THOR’S HAMMER” Ole said still throwing Andy over the floor. “Hulk Smash!” Ari screamed out of pure joy. Ole threw Andy over the right wall and he almost went stuck on it. Like a bulldozer that is trying to take a wall down, Ole ran over Andy, taking the wall down and Andy with it. Andy’s body was completely broken and he passed out.
  14. It had been chest day, at the new little gym I’d recently discovered in the downtown district. It was tiny for a cooperate gym, and even at 6PM on a Wednesday, the rush hour crowd was more than manageable. It was a more casual crowd - yoga moms and office guys, sparsely occupying the space, and that made it much easier to move around freely, and more importantly, really dive into my workout. For quite some time now, building my mind-muscle connection has been a main focus of mine, something I constantly try to improve on. Making sure my form is on point, preventing any injury and simultaneously trying to exert maximum power, tension, and control over the muscle group I’m working. Flexing before the set, throughout, and during rest, always keeping a bit of tension. Always flexed, and at the peak, flexed as hard as possible. Like a bright red string you have to try to hold on to, a direct link between your brain and the target muscle in a gray space - or at least that’s how I started seeing it recently. It’s a strange process that’s constantly evolving, constantly adjusting and correcting with one goal in mind - push that fucking weight so fucking good you fucking GROW. Breath by breath that’s how my working went, constantly focused on the most efficient way to make my muscles really fucking pop. Today was one of those occasions where I came in wearing a hoodie, with a tank top underneath. I do this because I love keeping the hoodie on until right before my last three sets because I fucking love the moment when I take it off and see myself in the mirror, finally checking out my pump. It’s the best feeling. I work harder wearing that hoodie, knowing the harder I work the better the prize at the end. I hadn’t been looking at myself much lately though, not for a few weeks. A wrist injury limited me to leg workouts only for about a month, early in my first bulk with my new bodybuilding coach. I was feeling flabby and disappointed, like all I’d accomplished was ruining what I had built in those nine months I had spent cutting, trying to tighten up my body as much as possible, slowly making it hard and hungry to grow with as much rock hard mass as possible. Like I’d wasted the new stuff my coach had put me on. SARMS - it was my first time, and I trust my Coach, so I was looking forward to some serious results. It was my second week doing upper body in the gym, and fucking loved what I saw when I took off my hoodie before doing some lateral raises (it’s a fucking hot move to pump up with). I looked beastly. Atleast that was the first thing I noticed. There was an obvious bulge to my traps - sloping, thick, leading into round, broad delts hugging two pumped up, beautifully curved, thick slabs of muscle, and I took it all in hungrily as I watched myself work towards my goal, finally seeing the goal becoming a reality, seeing a new shape. Admittedly, I had been feeling thicker already - more angular I kept thinking, whatever that meant. Definitely shapelier. Stronger. It felt hot, and it was fucking hot to see it. The other day, I’d noticed I was increasingly hornier, and realized it was because of my legs. The time I focused on them had paid off, and they felt thicker than everything else, so different every time my hand brushed any part of my thigh - it felt like muscle. Big muscle. Bodybuilder muscle. I was growing. Even my calves were starting to get some nice size and shape - I’d been pushing them hard in an effort to bring them up in my pursuit of being hugely muscled all over. I finished coach’s workout and decided to find a couple more exercises - wanted a couple really good pump sets before the Grand Prize, the moment immediately after when I would head to the bathroom and fucking FLEX and check out that fucking pump. And fuck, it did not disappoint, I could not believe what I saw. I was alone in a tiny bathroom (urinal, stall, two sinks), with the mirror right across from the door, shamelessly grunting as I pushed to flex harder, recording myself in the mirror as I tried to capture the pump. Normally I’d be a little anxious about someone coming in and ‘catching’ me at my most frenzied state of muscle mania, but fuck it. It looked good. I was growing. That meant it was only going to look better. I was starving at this point. My busy schedule had me behind a meal, and I was spent after that lift and flex session. My body was hungry. My muscles were hungry. I need to feed and grow. That was all I could think about in the unexpected 8PM traffic, my mind completely focused on making sure I grow. So I get home and put into act the meal I planned in traffic. I liked to play with my diet, making substitutions to my Coach’s meal plan, adhering to the macros in the plan. I was juggling a few different things, moving about with purpose, focused on making the two meals I had decided to combine into one. I’d carefully put it together, checking out the nutrition info for everything, putting together the substitution. ¾ cup of Special K Cinnamon Brown Sugar Crunch and ¾ cup of Fairlife 2% milk (200 CAL, 26C, 4F,16G). I downed the cereal and poured the left over milk into my blender with 1.5 scoops of Whey Isolate, a bit of stevia, some ice, and 100 grams of strawberries (+197CAL, 9C, 1F, 38P = 397CAL, 36C, 5F, 54P). It got cold at that point so I switched into a t-shirt, noticing it felt different. I definitely filled it out more, and I could feel the fabric stretched across a landscape I knew was mostly growing bodybuilder muscle. My cock throbbed. For my last meal - 96/4 lean beef, rice pasta, green beans and decided to just take a minute to breathe during this meal, to consciously put down my phone and take a moment to just be with myself while I ate, letting my body relax and absorb the nutrients it needed to fuel the growth I’d commanded during that workout. Sitting there, enjoying that feeling and reflecting on everything I’d done in the last few hours, feeling the shape of my body, my awareness of every bulge intensified by the stretch of the fabric, I realized something. I was a bodybuilder. I couldn’t believe it. Looking back at my day, I realized how much I fucking live and breathe it, how right it feels, how much I look forward to pushing higher and higher to keep pushing my physique to bigger and bigger growth. And that felt fucking good. I had completely redefined myself. I’d changed my identity, I was focused, and growth was coming, because I was a fucking bodybuilder. I was a diet obsessed, driven, dedicated, hungry bodybuilder. Man, I couldn’t fucking wait to finish my meal, pump up with some flexes, and fucking cum thinking about my growing, muscle god BODYBUILDER body.
  15. Hi Just an idea i have been mulling over. Not done much writing before so comments and suggestions welcomed. MUSCLEMAN and the GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE Lifting bridges was not new for Muscleman. As he looked out over the huge expectant crowd he flexed his muscles under his uniform. Once again the engineers had built a framework of metal and all he had to do was deadlift the bar then curl the entire Golden Gate Bridge. As always, Muscleman was supremely confidence had could do it, after all he had recently done the Brooklyn bridge without any issues. The problem is no one told Muscleman the weight difference and Muscleman had failed to ask. Whereas the Brooklyn weighed just under 15,000 tons, the Golden Gate weighed 60 times that, coming in at 887,000 tons Muscleman strutted out onto the specially built stage. Cameras focussed on him as he turned and smiled and flexed. Although clad in his unmistakable uniform of just gold posers, there was no doubt that the 6'3 320lb was all muscle – pumped, ripped, tanned and shredded. The ultimate definition of muscle perfection. Muscleman never missed the opportunity to be a showman. When he defeated Thor in the world famous epic armwreslte contest he toured the world for a week doing mock armwresle contests with anybody who wanted a photo opportunity. When he defeated hulk in the superhero powerlifting competition he had a full article written in Powerlifting weekly. The Hulk power lifting contest had been a calculated risk for Muscleman. Whilst the man of steel was confident the could win the bench press, he knew had little chance of defeating the Hulk in the squat (have you seen the size of those quads Muscleman kept on saying to himself) so it would all come down to the deadlift. And that is exactly how it turned out. Muscleman won 2 out of the 3 events, those quads of Hulk are simply insanely huge and powerful, and could squat a weight too great even for Muscleman to match; but the man of muscle had won the overall event and that was all that matters. when he defeated Hercules in the full Nelson challenge he went on tour with the WWE for a week to wrestle. No - Muscleman never missed a photo op. And today he was going to save the iconic Golden Gate Bridge by curling it up so engineers could insert new supports to stabilize it after the recent earthquake. Once again, the entire world would see Muscleman as the ultimate superhero; the ultimate saviour. Muscleman looked out at the huge crowd. NBC were sponsoring the event and they had their news anchor as live compare. Muscleman could hear the words in the background but wasn't really listening. He heard the words he was waiting for "ladies and gentlemen I give you MUSCLEMAN, THE STRONGEST BEING EVER TO HAVE WALKED THE PLANET". He walked to the bar, which looked like a simply oversized standard barbell, but this was connected to the entire Golden Gate Bridge. He took several deep breaths, bent down grabbed the bar and started to lift. That is when he realized he was in trouble. He expected it to be heavy but not this heavy. He always knew that his arrogance would one day be his downfall, but he never expected it today. He slowly lifted the Bridge a few inches off the ground, getting the bar to his knees but his entire body was shaking and straining like never before. Muscleman, for the first time ever was grunting and straining and roaring with the effort. Muscleman was sweating. The more he struggled the more he roared and sweated. He couldn't understand what was wrong until-from the back of his mind he replayed the half listened to words from the NBC host. The Brooklyn bridge had weighed just short of 17 000 tons and the Golden Gate just shy of 887,000 tons. If only he had done some research Muscleman lamented, then the world would not be witnessing the failure of Muscleman. He gave one final almighty roar and managed to complete the deadlift phase, but even he accepted that curling the weight was a total impossibility for anyone, Muscleman included. He dropped the bar and the entire ground shook as the weight of the bridge went down, Muscleman stood humbled and humiliated. The only solace Muscleman felt was that new knew for certain that no other superhero could have done better. This was far heavier than the powerlifting competition he had recently won, and his nearest challenger, the Hulk had lost that event. Although Muscleman may have felt humiliated, the huge crowd cheered like never before. Although he was always the favourite of all the superheroes, the fact that he attempted something in public which he failed at gave him a human aspect which many thought he was missing. The fact he gave the lift everything he had plus more improved his standing. The challenge provided two things for Muscleman. Firstly the feeing of being humbled by what others saw in him and the second was a driven desire to do better. It was then that Muscleman saw Kyle in the audience. Kyle wasn't supposed to be out of the compound let alone walking the streets of America without supervision. What most people don't realize is that the United Nations, along with a select number of major governments, scientific companies engineering conglomerates sponsors the Center for Human Enhanced Super Strength (CHESS).
  16. Well folks, Here's one from a few years ago. Not sure if I put it here. Just wanted to get my face back in the loop, so to speak. Sorry I've been away so long. Enjoy and please, please comment. TC. BB Bookstore part two Richard and Kayne By Tattcub - 2014-04-04 04:53 Copyright © 2014 Tattcub. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author. It was just one of those days when everything seemed to go wrong. Richard was a runner for a local PR company and he hated it. The job should have been sweet, meeting new people every day and doing projects for the big and famous. What did these guys do ? They designed websites and did adverts for dog food and baby powder. Richards ,job ? Well, he could source lattes from any number of shops in the area in 10 minutes flat. “A great achievement that” he thought to himself disconsolately as he started out of the office on yet another coffee run. “This job sucks” thought the 20 year old. At 5ft 8 he was average height in fact he was pretty much average everything. He wasn't an unattractive kid but was carrying a little extra weight here and there. His hair needed cutting, it was a little to long and was a bit too greasy, He had a few spots on his face and his nose seemed a little too pug like giving him a slightly piggy look, His chin was a little double but when he smiled his face lit up and his pale grey eyes sparkled. He just wasn't that happy that he smiled to often at the moment. Let's face it his main hobbies were watching re-runs of STNG and WoW, with maybe a little date with madame palm and her five lovely daughters. He was lonely and a little sad but he deserved more. He was a good worker to with a creative flair that wasn't recognised by his employers. He needed a change. As he wandered the streets, taking the long route to the coffee shop he noticed a new bookshop he'd never seen before. Which was weird as the place looked like it had always been there. They also had a small coffee area. “Cool” he smiled to himself. He could kill 2 birds with one stone here. He pushes the door open that jingles with the sound of an old fashioned bell at the top of the door. The shop is well lit at the front where the counter and the coffee shop area are, The assistant looks up from his book and smiles in welcome. “Good morning, welcome to the BB book store” he says as he finds and marks his place in the book before he puts it on the counter. “Hi” says Richard shyly as he hands over a list of coffees for his colleagues The assistant takes the note and looks at it and smiles. “No problem with this. Although these will take a few minutes to do” He gestures to the stacks that lead into the shadows at the rear of the shop. “Why not take a look around and see if there's something that catches your eye?” “Sure, thanks” Richard feels himself colour slightly under the guys rather intense stare. He can't put his finger on it but there's something about this guy. He walks back into the stacks of the shop and starts looking at the shelves and their contents, There's all the usual stuff. Fiction and reference off all types, he stops for a minute or two at the sci-fi section before he looks up and notices the biography section. It is huge. The whole section takes up the entire back wall of the shop. Richard starts to look at the books and soon realises he's never heard of any of the people in these books. Kyne Stanton “The lives and loves of a rockstar” Aiden Riddick “Running back but never backwards. A footballers tale” and so on. One in particular caught his eye, it seemed to have fallen onto a shelf on its own. He picked it up. It was a large thick book with a picture of a man half in shadow on the cover, It was the eyes that got him. They were a very strange shade of blue, quite dark for a blue almost purple in the shadowed light of the shop. The title read Kayne Richards, Play Hard Fight Dirty. Richard found himself licking his lips as he brushed the cover of the book before he opened it to the first page... He started to read Chapter 1 Kayne Richards was born in January 1976 to an East London couple, his mother work in a local pub and his father owned and ran the local boxing gym, occasionally hosting and taking part in prize fights much to his wife’s chagrin. When Kayne was born Craig Richards gave up the prize fighting and concentrated on making the gym a decent business with which he could support his family. Kaynes mother Margaret or Peggy as she is known gave up the pub to look after their new baby boy who was born weighing in at 12lb 3 oz. He was a quiet child who never seemed to cry and his mother said he had very pale blue eyes at that age and would often just stare at people. As he grew up Kayne adopted his parents work ethic and tried hard at school. Whilst not the greatest academic he was a good lad, who stood up for his friends and got into a few scrapes but usually won through. His father owned a boxing gym after all... He got his nose broken at 15 in a fight involving a girl he liked and the man who would later become his best friend and eventual manager Chris Sutton.... Richard looked away from the page for a second and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It felt a little sore. It must be from when he was wearing his specs this morning. This book seemed quite interesting. He glanced at the picture at the bottom of the next page and it showed Kayne with his parents at 16 “Kayne and his family celebrate his first championship boxing win” Richard continued to read... Kayne won several more trophies after leaving school and he started to work with his father at the gym. Always fit it was in 1994 that Kayne persuaded his dad to start diversifying and moved onto weight training, power lifting and body-building at the gym. Kayne Was a fast learner and took to the weights like a seasoned pro. He loved the sound of metal on metal and the heat and atmosphere of the gym. He was always there even on his days of, encouraging the long timers and teaching the newbies. He won his first competition for body-building in June of 1996. Richards neck felt stiff and a little sore, the thick muscles stretched his collar making it a little tight so he had to undo the button on his shirt. His shoulders and arms made the shirt seem a little tight too. “Must be putting on a little weight” he thought to himself. Not noticing that fact that the short sleeves on his arms were revealing new and powerful forearms and decent biceps that made the sleeves bunch when he held the book. The fact that he was 2 inches taller than when he'd started reading went unnoticed to, leaving him at 5ft 10inches. He continued reading Late in 1996 Chris Sutton, Kaynes long-time friend from school persuaded him to give up boxing and concentrate on body-building alone. Kayne agreed with the exceptional genetics he had there was only one way to go. Up. Sadly in 1997 Kaynes mother passed away from cancer but not before she told him that he had no limits with what he could do with his life. His father also became unwell at this time and passed full ownership of the gym to his son. Kayne up the stakes in the business converting it to a full Iron heaven. The boxing gym rights were sold on and re-located just across the road but Kaynes love was body-building. With suttons encouragement he decided to take his body to the next level.. going from respectable junior weight of 175lbs he put on another 20lbs of muscle in that first intensive year.... Richards neck cricked as he twisted it. The big traps rising up through the collar and forcing it apart. The shirt was now riding above his waistline by about 3 inches just showing a sight of the delicious set of abs nestled underneath. His strong Pecs just starting to push the buttons apart. His jeans were starting to look like waders as they began to work their way upwards they were getting so tight that he had to keep re-adjusting his balls to get comfortable. His legs seemed to be stretching too...His shoes felt to small and Richard felt warm and sweaty. Something weird was happening here. He glances down at the book with the Pictures of Kayne and Chris in their early years at Kaynes gym and there is an almost familiar feel to them. The story has Richard engrossed now and he continues his journey into another mans life. Kayne Richards entered several competitions over the next few years not always winning but placing highly in them. His body continued to improve. The gym business thrived as more and more customers joined and eventually in 2000 at the turn of the millennium Kayne took a year off and all but disappeared from the UK body-building scene to look after his ailing father. Kayne passed the company responsibilities onto Sutton and still continued to train in private at his home in the East end where he still lived with his dad. Sadly 6 months after passing on the company to Sutton Kaynes beloved dad died. He took the loss hard but never gave up on his dream and 6 months later blasted back onto the UK scene at an outstanding 224 lbs of mass and muscle. He had managed to put on another 30lbs of muscle in the year he had taken off and now was a force to be reckoned with on the UK scene. He re-joined the business with a new vigour and double his muscle building efforts, also opening 4 new gyms in and around London over the next few years. He continued to add muscle and was noted for his fun posing routines and quirky sense of humour on stage... Richard found it hard to breathe. His shirt ripped on his back as his lats spread out, thick and glorious, a true wall of muscle capped at the top by delts and traps that belonged to the gods themselves. His biceps finally tore their way through themselves through his short sleeves and rose up in all of their veined perfect glory..His forearms rippled with power and a trace work of veins bulged and moved beneath the paper like skin which appeared to be darker in the dim light of the shop. Richard knew this wasn't normal and something was happening to him, it was like he was being over-written. It was odd but not an unpleasant feeling. He looked down at the book he now knew he had to read from the end. He felt his crotch get tighter as he saw the pictures of Kayne winning his next two UK shows and then heading for the USA... Kayne Richards exploded onto the US body-building scene in September 2004 when at 6ft 4inches and weighing in at an incredible 254lb he placed 4th in the Super-heavyweight category and over all just pushing the amazing Dexter Jackson into 5th place. His idol Ronnie Coleman who took the Olympia that year for the 7th year running was heard commenting he should watch his crown this was an incredible feat for the young challenger. It was commented that his mass was outstanding and he was very popular with the audience. Kayne was thrilled with the placing but to him it wasn't enough and he went back to London to his own gym and went back to basics. Over the next year Kayne was a man possessed and brought in as much help as he could even training with the greats like Dorian Yates and Ronnie Coleman as well as up and comers Jay Cutler and Branch Warren both of whom had been on the scene for a while... Then tragedy struck. Kayne was injured with a rotator cuff two months prior to the 2005 Mr Olympia and was going to be out of action for several months. Kayne was devastated all his hard work had come to nothing. He had kept out of the limelight concentrating on his growth and focusing on the areas that had let him down the previous year. He held his head high and even though he couldn't compete still attended the Olympia and fully clothed it was obvious he had put on a huge amount of mass. He was weighed on stage and came in at a staggering 282lb. When asked to take off his shirt the blond behemoth smiled and winked at the audience promising them next year was his. Ronnie took the crown again that year and jokingly handed the trophy to Kayne to try on for size. They both received a standing ovation.... Richards jeans now hurt. He had to get them off. He managed to undo the buttons but it wasn't really necessary as a loud rip was heard as his massive legs and body-builder ass tore through the back of his jeans. He tugged at the front of them tearing the rags away revealing the massive pillars of stone that were his legs. The separations and cuts of his thighs was amazing. Perfect. Massive. Muscle. “Oh yeah”,thought Richards. “This is the stuff.” He briefly caressed his cock in his boxers, readjusting them in their new airier housing. He turned his head and glanced into the glass of a display case and realised the full extent of the changes. His monstrous traps and shoulders had all but destroyed the collar and top of his shirt his chest and biceps did the rest leaving the wreckage strewn around his godlike body just like a vest. He saw his handsome face in the glass, the nose had once been broken but it made his craggy face manlier somehow. His light hair contrasted with the strange dark blue eyes and made this a face that anybody could fall for. He felt the itching as he caught part of the transformation as veins seemed to snake up from his now exposed size 14 feet . They travelled up the monstrous globular calves. Popping out in relief in and the diamond and moving up to the calves that were so solid they could barely be human. He felt them move up to his abs which he revealed by pulling of the now useless shirt to reveal an 8 pack that would make the Greek gods weep with jealousy. They twisted around his back screw the road map. This was a map of the world in all its perfect massive, veiny, monstrous sweaty glory. His neck was practically a jumble of veins and muscle held in place by ridiculous huge traps and shoulders. The veins snaked through them. Touching and raising the skin everywhere, bringing the blood to every part of the engorged muscle freaks body. The arms were the last. Veins coursed through his biceps raising and swelling the peaks and dividing them over the tops perfectly. They criss-crossed the forearms making them almost alien sculptures of anatomy. And finished finally on his huge, hard, callused hands. Hands so muscular they had trouble gripping the thin spine of the book which had previously seemed so large. “What the hell?” Thought Richard/Kayne. “Excuse me?” said a voice. Richard/Kayne looked around “Yes?” his deep voice rumbled when he answered the assistant. “Sorry, sir your coffee is ready” said the assistant. Kayne/Richard walked dazedly through the stacks to the front counter. Half naked and still clutching the book but the assistant didn't bat an eye. “Did you find something you liked?” said the man innocently still not acknowledging the magical transformation of the PR runner. “Er yeah” Rumbled Kayne/Richard. “Now sir, as you are a new customer here I have two special offers for you.” He said. “The first is, please take the coffee with my compliments” “The second is...That you can bring the book back any-time you like and I will refund you totally for any dissatisfaction that has occurred” The man smiled at his bemused customer. Kayne Richards smiled at the assistant. Kayne/Richards took all of 3 seconds to decide. He made his choice and suddenly felt a little dizzy. “Cool, thanks for that man”Said the now 312lb off-season muscle monster. His clothes continued to change leaving him wearing a black stringer training vest and combat shorts over tan Cat boots. His blonde hair was cut close and his blue eyes twinkled as he grabbed his coffee and walked to the door after paying for the book. His huge legs rolling around each other in a perfect muscular gait at the door he paused and turned around smiling. “Any time you want to train just pop over the road” said Kayne Richards the still reigning Mr Olympia, As he left the door the bell jingled. The assistant smiled to himself and proceeded to wipe the counter free of non-existent dust.
  17. I also tried to write my story in English, but I apologize . Not so very good writing it . So if anyone knows or can correct the Spanish version of my story in good English I appreciate it . Thanks for reading , enjoy it . No puedo aguantarme, cada vez que tengo tiempo necesito levantar pesas. La sensación de tener los músculos al límite me genera mucho placer. El ejercicio más placentero es el de los bíceps, ver como comienzan a salir cada vez más venas es increíble. Mi pene se pone erecto al instante cuando comienzo con los ejercicios, los hago desde que soy adolescente, la primera vez que me acabe fue sin tocarme, y mientras colgaba de la barra levantando mi cuerpo hasta no poder más. En ese momento tenía 14 años y estaba en secundaría. En clase, mis compañeros varones me pedían que flexionara los brazos porque no podían entender como yo era el único que tenia venas en los brazos y bíceps redondos que estiraban la piel al hacer fuerza. Siempre había alguien que quería tocarlos y sentir lo duros que eran. Hubo un año en el que tuve que faltar un mes a clases y me perdí un examen importante de educación física, así que tuve un examen especial. Al terminar la prueba la profesora me hizo un comentario que puso mi pene erecto al instante; “Se nota que eres deportista, mira cómo se hinchan tus bíceps cuando levantas la mochila”. Y la verdad es que nunca fui deportista. Sólo he sentido emoción desde siempre por ejercitar mis músculos. Recuerdo la primera vez que me excité, yo era un niño, tendría 4 o 5 años. Fue en la playa, estaba haciendo un castillo de arena cuando paso un muchacho caminando por la orilla que tenía los brazos más grande que jamás había visto, en ese momento pensé; “ wow, tiene como pelotas en los brazos“. No me di cuenta que me gustaban los hombres hasta los 15, 16 años, porque antes de atraerme uno, siempre me atrajeron los músculos primero. Ahora, a los 27, no puedo imaginarme con una mujer si no es sintiéndome fuerte y dominante frente a ella. Pero prefiero los labios de un hombre. A los 18 años tuve mi primer relación sexual, y fue con un compañero de secundaría con el que asistía a un programa del campus deportivo que consistía en natación, atletismo y musculación para adolescentes. Hacíamos los mismos ejercicios aunque a mis 18 yo podía levantar más peso que él, siempre estaba a mi lado cuando tocaban los ejercicios de biceps, a él le gustaba tocarlos sin que nadie nos viera cuando estaban al limite con las venas que salían por todos lados, yo me excitaba mucho, pero ninguno decía una palabra al respecto. Aunque a el le iba mejor con los ejercicios de abdominales. Yo los tenía marcados, pero él realmente tenía músculos en el abdomen, con mucha separación entre ellos, músculos que realmente salían hacia afuera y dos venas grandes que los recorrían, era realmente excitante verlo hacer los ejercicios y llegar a los 300 abdominales sin parar sin problema y yo apenas podía hacer 120 seguidos. Pero era cuando nos tocaba hacer natación que era realmente admirable, verlo hacer los ejercicios de estiramiento antes de saltar al agua era realmente excitante, y se llevaba la atención de todos los presentes, incluyendo la mía. Y sus piernas, dios mío, con muchas venas y cuadriceps marcados. Supongo que las historias siempre comienzan de forma similar. Fue una noche en la que me quedé en su casa a dormir, él ya vivía sólo porque venía de otra ciudad para estudiar. Siempre me recibía con el torso desnudo, como si se quitara la camiseta al saber que yo iba. Casi siempre estaba saliendo de la ducha o algo así, que casualidad. Sus abdominales eran increíbles, no era más alto que yo, pero eran más largos y anchos que los míos, y cuando se reía se le tensaban de una forma que parecía que se iban a salir. El propuso hacer ejercicios antes de ponernos a dormir. Así que comenzamos con lagartijas, haciendo series de 50. En un momento el se coloca sobre mí, y el universo se cruzo por mi mente. Él quería saber si yo podía soportar su peso. Y sí que podía, hice 10 flexiones con el sobre mí, el sujetaba mis brazos y podía sentir como disfrutaba tocar mis venas, mis tríceps y bíceps flexionándose una y otra vez. En la última flexión en el suelo, puso su mano entre mis pectorales y yo la apreté con fuerza, sentí un temblor en todo mi cuerpo, un placer inigualable. pude sentir su rápida erección en mi trasero. Fue inevitable que me diera vuelta y comenzar a besarnos como si nuestros cuerpos fueran imanes. Mi erección hacia rato que no podía más, me baje la bermuda y comencé a tocar sus abdominales tensos con mi pene, él sacó el suyo y lo paso por mis pectorales, me pidió que lo apreté con fuerza, y así lo hice hasta que comenzó a lanzar líquido pre seminal, luego lo puso entre mis bíceps y me pedía que flexionara. Amaba sus abdominales, así que se los lamí, los chupe los besé, recorría sus venas con mi lengua. Rodeó sus piernas en mi cintura y me pidió que lo levantara en el aire, me puse de pié, mi pene estaba tan mojado que no tuvo problema en introducirse en su culo. “Hijo de puta, tu pene es muy ancho”, me dijo. Lo levante sobre mi pene 4 o 5 veces y no tarde en acabarme dentro de él. Temblaba de placer, él seguía lanzando líquido pre seminal pero aún no se había acabado. Me lamió y beso los pectorales un rato, así que volví a excitarme rápidamente y a tener una dura erección. El se acostó boca arriba en el borde de la cama y me pidió que lo cogiera estando yo parado, así que sujete sus piernas e introducí mi pene otra vez en su culo. El tocaba mis pectorales y los apretaba, hasta que él comenzó a temblar y tensar sus abdominales increíblemente acabando mucho mucho semen sobre ellos. ...................................................................................................................................... Whenever I have time I need to lift weights. The feeling of having muscles to the limit generates me much pleasure. The most enjoyable exercises are biceps, see how they start growing out veins is amazing. My penis becomes erect instantly when I start with the exercises, I do since I was a teenager, the first time I cum without touching me was hanging on the bar, lifting my body till you drop. At the time I was 14 and was in high school. My classmates asked me to touch my arms because they could not understand how I was the only one who had veins in the arms and stretching round biceps straining the skin. There was always someone who wanted to touch them and feel how tough they were. There was one year when I had to miss one month classes and I missed an important test of physical education, so I had a special examination. When I finished the test the teacher made a comment that instantly put my erect penis; "It shows that you are an athlete, watch your biceps swell when you lift the bag". And the truth is that I was never an athlete. I just felt emotion always for exercising my muscles. I remember the first time I got excited, I was a kid, I would 4 or 5 years. It was on the beach, he was making a sandcastle, when a boy pass walking front of me with the biggest arms I had ever seen, in that moment I thought; "Wow, has balls in arms". I did not realize that I liked men to 15, 16 years because before pull me one, I always attracted the muscles first. Now, at 27, I can not imagine me with a woman if not feeling strong and dominant front of her. But I prefer a man's lips. At 18 yo I had my first sexual relationship, and was with a high school classmate with attending a sports campus program consisting of swimming, athletics and bodybuilding for teens. We were doing the same exercises, although my 18 I could lift more weight than him, he was always by my side when biceps exercises, he liked to touch them without anyone seeing us, when they were on the border with the veins coming out all sides, that excited me to much, but neither said a word about it. Although he was the best with abdominal exercises. I had them marked, but he really had muscles on abs, with much separation between them, muscles really out and two large veins that roamed was really exciting to see him do the exercises and reach 300 sit-ups without stopping without problem and I could barely do 120 in a row. But it was when we had to do was really admirable swimming, watching him do stretching exercises before jumping into the water was really exciting, and the attention of everyone present had, including mine. And his legs, my god, with many veins and quadriceps marked. I guess the stories always begin similarly. It was a night when I stayed at home to sleep, he was living alone because he came from another city to study. Always received me with the naked torso, as if the shirt was removed to know that I would. He was almost always out of the shower or something, that chance. His abs were amazing, was not taller than me, but they were longer and wider than mine, and when he laughed he strained in a way that seemed to be going out. He proposed exercise before we sleep. So we started with lizards, doing sets of 50. At one point placed on me, and the universe crossed my mind. He wanted to know if I could bear her weight. And yes I could, did 10 push ups with over me, holding my arms and could feel enjoyed playing my veins, my triceps and biceps flexing again and again. In the last bending on the floor, put his hand between my chest and I pressed strongly, I felt a tremor all over my body, a unique pleasure. I could feel his rapid erection in my back. It was inevitable that I would turn and start to kiss as if our bodies were magnets. My erection while since I could no longer, lower my short pants and started playing his abs tight with my penis, he took his and he pass by my pecs, he asked me what I pressed hard, and I did until I started to launch pre seminal fluid, then I put it between my biceps and asked me to flex. I loved his abs, so I licked, kissed them suck, through his veins with my tongue. She wrapped her legs around my waist and asked me to pick him up in the air, I stood up, my penis was so wet that had no problem in entering your ass. "Motherfucker, your penis is very wide," he said. Lift it on my penis 4 or 5 times and not finish me late in it. Quivered with pleasure, he kept throwing pre-cum but still was not finished. I licked and kissed the pectoral a while, so I went back to get excited quickly and to have a hard erection. The lay face up on the edge of the bed and asked me to fuck him standing still, so hold your legs and Enter my penis in her ass again. He played my chest and squeezed until he began to shiver and tighten your abdominal incredibly much much cum running out on them.
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