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  1. Black Cat Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 WARNING! Contains snuff. Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 Epilogue Sequel: Black Cats Chapter 1 The wife lays on the bed on her side, passed out. Her long auburn hair covers her sweaty, cummy face, neck and tits. Cum leaks out of her pussy and ass onto the soaked hotel sheets. Sunlight from the window lands on her 36C breasts, her nipples still hard and extended from my manipulations. Those beautiful breasts jiggle, the bed creeks and the headboard hits the wall with each of my thrusts. "Oh, God! Fuuuuck!" the husband moans under me. I pin his head to the bed with my left hand. My right hand grips and lifts his pelvis keeping his ass inline with my cock. For the last twenty minutes I've been pulling all the way out, waiting for his sphincter to close, then, with a low-pitch growl, ramming in deep. "You like that, boy? hmmmggggggrrrrrr. Like getting fucked slow and hard?" The husband moans something that sounds like, "yes, Daddy", as his fists tightly clutch the sheets. I roll my head back and inhale deeply, relishing the musky scent of sex. I spike his ass with a quarter of my rod. "AAAAHHHHHHGGOOOOOODD!" the pitiful excuse for a male wails. "GRRRR! I don't give a FUCK what you like, cunt," I growl. Enough of treading lightly with this virgin ass. I grab his shoulders with both hands and use my abs for countless short hard strokes, smashing into his prostate with every fuck. The bed frame crashes against that wall with a loud BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM as I bore into him. I keep up the rapid-fire assault, grunting with each fuck, until he yells, "I'm cumming!" I wrap my left hand around his throat and lift him off the bed. I stand tall and press the back of his head into my chest. He utters a satisfying scream as he slides father down. A minuscule amount of cum bubbles through the tiny cock cage his little penis is trapped in. His legs swing and bump my shins as I walk to the floor-to-ceiling mirror. By the time I reach the mirror he's panting like a bitch in heat. I turn to face the mirror and look over the "man" impaled on my cock. Mid-twenties, crew-cut blond hair, handsome features. I guess you could say that he's got a middleweight bodybuilder physique. A decent chest above his six pack. An above average limp dick swings off of him. He could probably place in a regional bodybuilding competition if he didn't skip leg days. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut. "Open your eyes. Come on boy," I thump his head with my free hand, "open." When he doesn't obey I forcefully flex my abs, driving my ramrod deeper into his gut. "Aaaarrrg!" his eyes snap open and looks at me in the mirror with fear, lust and fear. He begins to hyperventilate. "Hey, calm down, little man." I slide my hand off of his throat putting him in a choke hold. I lightly squeeze his windpipe between my forearm and bicep. His hands immediately grab my arm and vainly tries to move it. I whisper into his ear, "Take slow deep breaths. That's it. Good boy." With his breathing slowing I find myself involuntarily slow fucking his tight ass and watching my hulking figure in the mirror. The husband's head, his mouth gaping open, is held between a forearm thicker than his upper arm and a bicep bigger than his head. Thick veins under my paper-thin skin look like a metropolitan subway map. Above my bowling ball delts thick traps rise like mountains to meet my corded neck. The husband whimpers when I flex my free arm into a Herculean ball of power. "You like that, puny boy? Grrrr, yeah, I think we both know who's superior." I feel a pair of tits against my wide lats and a sopping wet pussy grinding on my massive rippling leg. "Fuck him, baby." The wife wraps her tiny hands around my torso. One hand slowly strokes my ten-pack, fingers following the perimeter of each thick cobblestone segment. Her other hand travels up to my shelf-like pecs to try to squeeze the rock-hard muscle. Giving that up, she begins to pinch and tweak a downward pointing nipple. "Show him how to use that thing between his legs." She's kissing and licking my back. "He's never satisfied me. You…oh god…you made me cum more than I've ever had. Show him how a real man fucks." Never wanting to disappoint the ladies I break the bi pose and slap the husband's glute. He yelps and calls out for mercy to whatever deity he thinks is listening. I seize a leg and bring it to his chest as I start to pound his ass balls deep. I roar. The husband screams in terror and submission. The wife moans, "Make him your bitch like you made me your whore…Master" *** Good. Now I have your attention. With all the instant gratification, short news cycles and screaming 140 to 280 character dispatches from who-the fuck-cares you have to grab attention by the balls, squeeze and not let go. Even if the owner of said balls slaps you with an injunction. Which never happens to me…usually. Hi, I'm Bruce. Bruce Banderole. Ripped let me hijack his account to tell my story. I didn't used to be this way. The domineering alpha male, not the ball grabber. Well, maybe not that either. Anyway, I was just your typical, average office worker schmuck sitting in a nondescript cube surrounded by sappy inspirational posters from HR in the boring corporate world. To say I was the pinnacle of physical health would be laughable. Twenty-six years old at this time. Under the average height for a male, just under the definition of obese, nearsighted and balding. My idea of exercise was carrying a box of a dozen doughnuts to the office every Friday. The only thing in my life that brought a ray of sunshine into my gloom was my girlfriend, Val. Six weeks ago that would all start to change. On that Monday nothing could brighten my mood. I grabbed two different socks out of the sock drawer, my sandwich was moldy, the printer repeatedly jammed on duplication of a fifty page report and I had my review. See, there's me after work in line at the bus stop waiting for the 5:10 to my house. Hunched shoulders, thinking about the day and mumbling, "How the fuck did I get a 'adequate' on the Reynolds account? I busted my ass for that fucker!" I look up to the guy behind me, "Tell me why a guy that looks like an avocado had sex with an older more disgusting avocado complained?" The old lady behind him stepped back aghast. The guy looked at me and said, "Maybe it's your use of harsh language." When I realized I left my umbrella at home, it started to rain. I sighed defeat to the universe as the bus rolled to a stop. The doors opened and I heard something in the alley. I ignored it and shuffled forward. After a few steps I heard it again. This time I think I heard a cat. I had a cat once. My sister wanted to name it Dog. A few more shuffling steps and I definitely heard a cat. I reached the bus door, looked up at the driver and said "Wait for me, I'll be right back." I think I heard the driver mumble, "Yeah right buddy" as I turned into the ally. "Here, kitty kitty kitty." I heard a reply from the left ten feet down the alley. I called out again, followed the reply and found an average sized undernourished young adult black cat under a piece of cardboard. It looked up at me with pleading electric blue eyes. I knelt down to the cat, and slowly blinked, "Hey, there." I extended a finger in front of its nose. "You don't look too well." The cat sniffed my finger, blinked and replied with a meow that almost sounded like, "Help?" I extended the finger to scratch the cat's chin. I didn't see a collar when the cat lifted its head for more scratches. "Oh, so you're a stray huh? Well we can't have you walking the streets can we?" As I gently lifted the cat it began to purr. I turned around with the cat cradled in my arms just in time to see the back of the bus disappear down the street. I sigh and mutter, "Fuck." "Mew?" "It's just been one of those days, cat. There's a vet school a few blocks from here. How about we get you checked out and get something to eat?" "Purrrrmoowprrrr" "I'll take that as a 'yes'." Two hours later I ordered an Uber and headed for home with a $200 vet bill, a box of stuff and a very groggy cat. When the Uber pulled up I saw my favorite driver, Debbie, in her beat up Hyundai Accent. "What the fuck ya got there, Bruce?" she yelled at me over the blaring death metal as I put the cat carrier and box in the back seat. I closed the squeaky back door and yanked on the front passenger door until it opened. Most people don't like Debbie. It might be that she curses like a sailor or that she'd rather insult you than get a tip. I kinda liked her; the petite figure, the girl-next-door face, the long blond hair in pigtails just went so well with the spiked leather collar, ripped band t-shirt, short shorts and bowie knife strapped to her thigh. Think Harley Quinn without a psychopathic homicidal boyfriend with a pasty complexion. At least I hoped so. "I found a stray cat and decided to adopt her," I replied once I sat down in the seat and turned down the screaming Norwegians. "The vet named her Brenna. Apparently that's Gaelic for 'black hair'." Debbie lifted a single eyebrow when she glanced from the back seat to me, "You, a cat? What's that fucking bitch Val gonna say?" I buckled up and replied, "Yeah, a cat. I'm secure enough in my manhood that I don't need a hundred fifty pound slobbering dog that you have to get up at five o'clock in the morning to walk. Besides, everyone should have a little pussy." She blushed as she pulled the car out into that traffic and replied, "Uh-huh. You got food and a goddamn cat box yet?" I pointed my thumb at the box in the back, "Yeah. The vet gave me a box of stuff. Said it was a CCL Starter Kit." We almost get into an accident when Debbie snorted and started laughing. "You mind not killing us and tell me what's so funny?" She composed herself just enough to reply, "Shit! CCL stands for Crazy Cat Lady." My eyes involuntary rolled heavenwards, "Laugh it up, Deb. One cat doth not a crazy make." "Mrr, aarrr?" came from the back seat. "I didn't ask you." With a snicker she stated, "They say the fucking first step is talking to the them." "And yet you talk to your crappy car." "Hey, don't insult Reggy! He's very sensitive!" The car backfired in agreement. She started stroking the dashboard, winked at me and said, "There, there, Reg. Don't listen to that mean asshole. You still haven't said how your cocksucking bitch-friend's going to react." "A FUCKING CAT!" was the reply I got from Val to a text with a pic of Brenna on my lap. When we got home I set everything up for Brenna. She had some water and cat food from her bowls in the kitchen and used her box in the bathroom. With her belly full she constantly purred while I scratched and rubbed her chin, throat and belly. She held my arm with her paws to make sure I didn't stop. She especially wanted me to scratch under her new orange-red nylon collar. I tried to think why the love of my life would say that as I scrolled up the app and saw all the pics she sent of her Pekingese, Alcaeus. The many, many pictures of Alcaeus dressed in a toga, birthday hat, sunglasses. In a sombrero for Cinco de Mayo. In a Santa beard and stocking cap for Christmas. The pics of Alcaeus with a hair bow on its head, in a Che Guevara t-shirt and beret, dressed as a Minion, lapping up a strawberry smoothie (from MY glass, mind you), wearing a Mario cap and, the worst, with cat ears. I typed out my reply with the thumb the little spoiled shit bit last week when I tried to get him away from my smoothie, "I found her in an alley downtown. I'm not going to walk away from that. Come on over and meet her, babe." A minute later the reply chat bubble started bubbling. Two minutes later I see, "Ugh fine cu soon." "We're going to have company, Brenna," I told the purring ball of fur on my lap as I rubbed behind her ears. Then I noticed the pizza boxes on the coffee table and dirty socks on the sofa. I sighed and said, "Looks like I've got to clean this place up a bit…" "Myeah." "…so you're gonna have to…Wait a minute, did you just say 'yeah'?" She just blinked those beautiful electric blue eyes and purred. "Ooookay then. Let me just set," I lifted her up and settled her on the sofa, "you here while I straighten up the place." The garbage was tossed and a load of laundry started when I heard the familiar sounds of Cadaver's "Cannibalistic Dissection" outside, Val screaming, "You expect a TIP after THAT?!" and a creaky car door slam. I open my front door to Val in a tight blue mid-thigh dress, her auburn hair in a bun, oversized sunglasses and a floppy wide brimmed hat. Behind her I saw a Hyundai peeling rubber and the driver's arm sticking out the window with a middle finger extended. "Ugh! That cabbie is the WORST! I don't know why they don't just fire her ass!" "She's not a cabbie and they can't." I gave Val a kiss on the cheek as she blew past me. "You know she's an independent contractor and the best driver in the city." "WHATEVER. So," she scanned the room, "where's this cat?" When Val set her oversized purse down her "dog" squeaked and poked his head out. "She's on the sofa. Be gentle, she's not used to…" When Val saw Brenna she charged towards her. Loudly, she said, "Oh, aren't you just the cutest thing!" Brenna jumped to the back of the couch, yelled, "Moor? REEEOW!" and hissed. When Val started to reach for her she jumped down and hid under the couch. "Hey! That's not how you act around a new pet, Valerie!" Alcaeus jumped out of the purse and started yapping at the couch. "Pfft, what do you know. It's just a cat." Brenna came out and sat in front of Alcaeus. Alcaeus continued to yap away as if he was a fearsome beast. Brenna, just yawned and cleaned her paw. "Yeah, well, she MY cat and I won't have her becoming neurotic due to…" We both heard a cut off yip and looked down to see Brenna's paw pinning Alcaeus's head to the floor. Her tail swished and she gave a "humph" sound. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY DOG!" Val exclaimed. I suppressed a snicker and said pridefully, "I see there's no chance of that." Val reached down to pick up the dog Brenna sniffed her hand. "Get away!" She clutched the shivering dog to her breasts, "That cat is EVIL!" "No she's not. This is all new to her. It'll take time for her to adjust." "Yeah, well…" Val's phone sounded out a notification I haven't heard before. Her face went flush and her eyes widened when she looked at her phone. "Sorry, babe. Gotta go." "You just got here?" I said, my hands outspread. "I know, but somethings come up…at work," Val collected her purse, shoved the shivering mutt in it and headed toward the door. "Can I call you an Uber?" "With HER again. I don't think so. Besides, my ride is already outside. Bye!" And with that Val slammed the front door on her way out. I stood in the middle of the living room wondering what just happened when I felt Brenna winding herself around my legs. "Well, that could have gone better." I said looking down at her. She blinked twice. "She's really very nice, ya know." "Mnoow," was the only reply in the room. Did my cat just say, "No"?
  2. Ripped

    Black Cats

    Black Cats Sequel to Black Cat. Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 Chapter 1 Early Tuesday morning I was awoken by the feeling of a pair of firm tits straddling my left thigh, a hard dick against my right foot and tongues licking my ironwood hard morning erection and pomegranate-sized balls. As I laid on my back with my eyes closed and soaked up the worship of the sister and brother I thought about all those fantastic things that happened to me in the past week. This whole adventure started last Monday when I found a little black cat in an alley downtown. When I picked up, cradled the purring furball in my arms and saw the beautiful electric blue eyes lovingly looking up at me I knew that I would do anything to keep her safe. I took the cat to a downtown veterinarian school for a check up and adopted Brenna, that’s what the vet named her, as soon as her exam was finished. After my long term cheat’n bitch of a girlfriend walked out on me later in the week I found out that Brenna was actually a kind of therianthrope; a being that can shapeshift into any form she chose. I uttered a moan from deep in my chest and put my big hands behind my head as I basked in the sensations emanating from my monster cock. I opened my eyes and looked down. The first thing I saw were my magnificent pecs. I had to lift my head to look over my overpowered hyper-masculine chest to see my ten pack abs and shredded obliques. I flexed and squeezed every muscle and watched as my pecs turned into hemispherical boulders with a deep vertical crevasse and each segment of my abs rose to stretch the thin skin and thick veins covering them. The two bodies covering my legs were raised by my massive quads and hamstrings. “Oh, fuck Bruce,” Brenna moaned. She kept her cat eyes and ears while taking the shape of an ultra-muscled sexy human female. “mmmm, I love it when you do that.” I felt her pussy against my shin leak a copious amount of cunt juice and drank in the rush of lust she emanated. You see, I wasn’t always the pinnacle of masculinity. Just a few days ago I was a 26 year old, short, obese, balding 9-to-5 office drone at an accounting firm in downtown Madison, right next to the capitol. The most exercise I ever got was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out why a client thought it would be a good idea to try to claim their new Lamborghini as a business expense when they owned a small deli that barely broke even in West Towne Mall. That all changed Friday night. Brenna did something to me that allowed me to capture and store emotional energy directed at me. I can use this energy to change myself; increase height, gain muscle mass, grow stronger and slightly change my appearance. Hell, I can even make my balls large enough to produce gallons of cum and my cock into a telephone pole. To reward Brenna for the delicious pre-breakfast emotion drink I added an inch of length and girth to my cock. She responded appropriately by loudly purring, unhinging her jaw and greedily taking my glans deep down her throat. Not only had Bre changed me physically, she also tweaked my psyche, amplifying my Id. This change allowed me to become the dominant personality I always yearned to be. Then early Saturday morning, she sent me off to Madtown Fitness, a gym on the south side by the beltline, to test my new body. There I broke my limits, both physically and mentally. I exceeded any physical expectation I had as I crushed all house lift records. Took any throat, pussy or ass I wanted. Exerted my dominance over everything and everyone. With one very painful exception, it was a fucking amazing day. “Oh, Gods, Daaaddy. That’s hot. That’s sooo fucking BIG.” Arthur, Brenna’s brother, whimpered into my scrotum between licks with a long, wide, soft dog tongue. Bre’s lips curled into a smile around my cock as I chugged his submission and rolled my eyes. I remembered how I met Art when I came home from the gym late Saturday night. Bre said he was an ex-boy friend that was in need of punishment. So I, now an uber dominant personality, made my physique explode. I must have grown well over seven feet tall and weighed over six hundred pounds, all muscle. I would have looked like a caricature of an over-the-top muscle bound freak if I didn’t have an extremely dangerous looking, three foot long, ten inch thick, rock hard cock sticking straight up from a low hanging scrotum containing testicles the size of a fastpitch softball. I ravaged Art’s throat and ass. I beat him to within an inch of death without realizing it. To save him I had to blow the whale sized load of cum. Consequently, Art says that now more than half of his DNA is from me, ergo, I’m his father. Yeah. That’s what I said, too. ‘Get our lazy ass up! Remember, I got a text last night from Keena saying we have a physical examination and lab work that has to be done before eight o’clock this morning or you can’t start work tomorrow,’ I heard in my head. That was another change. While meeting with Dr. Keena Panthera, the gym’s owner, Saturday the resident muscle head, Terry “Zapp Brannigan” Limppernoodle, attacked her. After I subdued the bastard she told me that he had sexually assaulted her, raped her. Even though I just met Keena that day, I felt an overwhelming instinct to protect her. Learning that she had been violated threw me into an uncontrollable rage. That rage ended with me on a shower floor and in my own vomit. I had snapped both of Terry’s femurs like twigs, ripped his arms off, crushed his head between my hands like it was a paper cup and ripped his genitals off. I tossed the bloody dick and balls at Keena’s feet like a trophy. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to indelibly stamp my dominance and superiority on her. My mom and uncle fought the last war. When my uncle returned he told me of fellow soldiers that were changed after their first kill, especially if it happened in hand-to-hand combat. I guess I changed that way, too. A part of me recoiled from the horror of what I did, splitting my mind into two equal and nearly opposite halves. The voice I just mentally heard calls himself Ego. He has an amplified intellect and is a fucking pain in the ass. He also can’t keep his pronouns straight. ‘I goddamn fucking asshole,’ Ego bitched. ‘I quit your job to work at the gym so he could fuck around all day long. Get my lazy ass out of bed!’ I reminisced about Sunday and Monday as I try to get my legs out from under my worshipers. Saturday night my BFF with benefits, Deb, the maniacal Uber driver, aimed me at a bored wife of a supplements company executive. On Sunday I met the wife and the couple’s maid in their mansion on Lake Mendota’s north shore. I found that not only did the husband have impeccable taste in cars and women, he also was having an affair with, and beat, the petite French maid. The next day, after proving my superiority in every way, impregnating the wife and making him a submissive cuck, I ripped away from him the things he loved the most (in reverse order); his wife, his mistress, his company and his W Motors Lykan HyperSport. Let me say right now that the irony of me owning a car named after a human that can change into a wolf is not lost on me. Art lifted his head from my balls. I was greeted with a big, panting, corgi face. Arthur’s ears wiggled as he said, “Are you gonna fuck me in the shower, Daddy? I’ve been a veeery bad doggy.” Art’s dog breath hit my nose like a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick, “Geez, Art! Your breath stinks! What the hell, have you been licking your ass again?” Art tilted his head to the side the way dogs do when you try to explain the symmetrical beauty of double entry accounting. “No,” he replied. “I’ve been licking yours.” Brenna chuckled while I moaned and gruffly commanded, “Get off me and brush your fucking teeth!” He whimpered and gave me puppy-dog eyes, but obeyed. He climbed off me and made his way to the bathroom with his tail between his legs. Literally. Bre pulled my cock out of her throat. The head popped out of her mouth. “Oh, good. You’re all mine now,” Bre murmured just before taking my entire length, down to the root, in her throat. Her mighty neck muscles started to ripple against my unyielding god-rod. I wanted nothing more than her servicing me for the rest of the day, but, as Ego said, I had things to do. “YOU need to make coffee and breakfast while I take a shower,” I declared. Her brow furrowed, eyes pleaded as she shook her head as best she could with a huge titanium rod stretching her esophagus and apple-sized glans in her stomach. I gripped the hair at the back of her head and started to pull her off me. “That wasn’t a request, cat.” At that she tightened her throat around my cock. Her neck muscles bulged, her traps thickened and rose up until they looked like steel I-beams and her back until it looked like an impenetrable mountain range as she fought against me. I smiled, took a drop of the emotional power I kept in reserve (stored somewhere off the Cayman Islands) and slowly pulled her off, easily overpowering her. When my cock head popped out of her mouth and smacked my chest she breathlessly whined, “Pleeeease, Master. I need you. I need your cock!” “Food now, play later,” I said as I rotated my shoulder and brought the 350 pound female bodybuilder, who could easily overpower a middle-weight state bodybuilding champion, to her back like she was a rag doll. While I still held her hair I propped myself up on an elbow and captured her jaw in my free hand. “Here’s a little taste for now,” I said. Then released her jaw, moved my hand slowly over her magnificent, firm breasts. I tweaked a thick nipple between my index and middle fingers, then stroked her brick wall abs and, finally, burried a finger in her sex. Her eyes rolled back as she moaned and gasped for air when I flicked her clit. She was writhing and on the edge of a powerful orgasm. Then I stopped. She hissed and punched my shoulder with enough power to blast a hole in a foot thick solid steel wall. My deltoid only dented a little bit. “Now get going and I might buy you a toy mouse later,” I teased and released her hair. She rolled off the bed and massaged the hand that punched me. With a look of lust, fury, resignation and pointing a finger at me she said, “That better be one hell of a mouse, buddy.” She turned and picked up the button down shirt I wore yesterday. As she shrugged the shirt on I noticed that her back almost filled up the garment that could barely contain me. She lifted the front of the shirt and took a deep breath as she turned back to me. Her breasts pushed the shirt open, revealing her large, firm breasts, deep cleavage and ruggedly segmented abs. Her nipples grew hard, denting the fabric, her lower abs started to powerfully flex, her expression like a predator ready to strike its prey. “Fuck,” she moaned. “I can still smell you on this.” I growled and jabbed a finger at the bedroom door. She scowled and cat-walked, her glutes flexing and rolling against each other, out of my bedroom as her face assumed a more human visage. I laid for a few seconds more, then rolled out of bed. I yawned, raised my arms above my head and stretched to work out all the kinks in my sleepy mountains of muscle. I heard my back crack (twice), my sternum pop and heard Art still brushing his teeth. The urge to urinate was strong, so I willed my raging cock to settle down. It deflated as I moved towards the bathroom and immediately stubbed my foot on the corner of the bed. Cursing and promising for the 1,001st time to rearrange the furniture, I limped to the bathroom. Art was getting ready to spit into the sink when I moved up behind him. I studied the contrast of body types I saw in the mirror. Art morphed from a human/corgi mix into a complete human with the appearance and physique of an average height twenty year old blond, blue-eyed, olympic swimmer. I could see the well toned muscles roll and flex as he bent over the sink to spit as he shifted his weight between his strong legs. When he stood up the top of his head reached the bottom of my chin. His adequately developed chest had wisps of blond hair above a decent six pack. I applied a little emotional power to pack on tens of pounds of muscle and increase my height until his head was below my chest. I proportionally grew the rest of my body, except for my cock. Then I lengthed and thickened it too until I had a baseball bat swinging between my knees. After that I took a half step forward, pinning his narrow pelvis between me and the vanity. I thrust my chest forward, brought my arms up into a double bi pose and flexed. The bathroom vanity lights glinted off my hairless scalp and chest. A weekend’s growth of thick whiskers gave my face a rugged appearance. My traps, delts and pecs grew to insane proportions. My biceps, already big, grew to dwarf Art’s head. I gritted my teeth, growled and squeezed harder. The already apparent striations deepened into crevasses as the superficial veins that criss-crossed my body like a road map tried to burst through my skin. The two heads of each bicep grew and separated, causing a vein filled valley to form from my deltoids to my pronator tres and brachioradialis. Art’s eyes grew wide, his mouth slack and he moaned as he leaned back into me. I think I even saw a little bit of saliva escape the corner of his mouth. He started leaking below too. Next to me, Schwarzenegger and Colman look like they don’t even lift. I AM the Greatest Of All Time. “Oh, fuuuuck, Daddy,” Art moaned as he flexed his ass against my cock. His strong glute muscles gave me more than enough friction stimulation to bring me to erection. “Do me right here. I don’t care if you rip me in half. Please, just fuck me.” I broke the pose and palmed Art’s head, my hand nearly encompassed his skull, and slammed the side of his head against the mirror. A network of spider web cracks appeared under him in the mirror. Even though he whimpered from the pain, I could feel the overwhelming lust and pleasure pulsing off him. I soaked up every drop of that, sending it to my reserves as I caused my cock, which was now the size of his calf, to become harder and cleave Art’s glutes, lifting him off his feet. I leaned in and gave him a predatory snarl, hot breath against his ear and I said, “If I did that, I’d have to blow an even bigger load than last time to bring you back. Then Bre would pound us both to pulp. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A weak, “uh-huh” escaped his lips as his hips started bucking against me and the vanity. He was about to cum from the mere suggestion of so much agony. I gave him a second or two of that mental image before I released his head, stood straight and stepped back. He barely caught himself before he fell to his knees. “Start my shower,” I ordered. Then I moved to stand over the toilet and relieved myself. It took a moment for Art to realize I issued an order. When he pulled his head away from the mirror I saw that he left a few drops of blood and a sweaty impression of an ear and cheek on the fractured mirror. He gazed upon my infinitely superior physique with a mixture of anger, lust and anticipation and whined, “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” and punched my back as he passed behind me and into the shower. “Owww! Fuck!” he said and turned the handle. I heard the water cascade out of the shower head and Art yelling, “GODS DAMN this water is COLD!” As I relieved myself I happened to glance at my toothbrush in its holder beside the sink. “Art, did you use my toothbrush?” “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind,” he said. He stuck his head out of the shower and continued, “Dog saliva is very hypoallergenic,” and licked the inside of one of his nostrils with a long dog tongue. I grumbled, flicked off the last drop of urine into the toilet and flushed. I leaned against the wall next to the shower and counted my fingers, waiting for the water to become scalding hot. As usual, right on the count of five Art screams, “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” and bolted out of the shower. I grabbed his neck before he got too far and threw him back into the shower. The house shuddered as he was driven into the shower wall. I ducked my head under the bar that holds the shower doors as I stepped into the stall. Then I turned the shower handle a quarter turn towards cold and slid the door closed behind me. Arthur looked at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw as my bulk almost filled the stall. I could feel the lust, pain and want cascading off of him. The delicious treat made me involuntarily flex my pecs against him, pushing him further into the wall. As the tile, drywall and wall frame cracked under him he said in a gasp, “Could you please not take up the entire shower?” I was disappointed he phrased it that way. If he had said, “Make yourself smaller,” I would have given myself a hundred pounds of muscle, flexed everything and pushed him through the wall so hard he would have exploded into the next room. Instead, I compressed my height until the top of his head was just below my chin, just enough height that he'd have to crane his neck to look me in the eyes. I did that without losing any muscle; I looked even more fucking massive. Now that I could maneuver in the shower I grabbed Art by the neck, ripped him out of the wall and forcefully set his feet on the floor of the shower. “You will wash me. If you do a good enough job I might fuck you into next week,” I growled and shoved the bar of soap from the shower caddy that hung from the showerhead into his hands. I then bent my left arm and flexed the bicep. Razor cut striations jutted across the twin peaks of the muscle. I straightened my arm and flexed again, this time including the forearm in the flex. The already insanely huge muscles grew larger and harder as even the smallest superficial vein doubled in size and pulsed with unbridled power. Art, with eyes wide, started to soap my upper left arm. “NO!” I barked. He flinched as if I had flicked a finger against his abs, expelling all air from his lungs and launching him across the room. He looked up timidly into my eyes. “Worship my might, worship the physique you dream about, worship the only true Alpha. Lick the sweat off me. Clean me with your tiny tongue. Then use the soap.” He instantly dropped the soap and started tonguing, kissing and caressing my massive arm. I gulped down each delicious drop his submission and want. He emanated so much I started to get drunk on the power I was soaking up. When I sent most of it to my reserves my head cleared and I felt Art sucking on my anterior delt head. “Grrrrrr! That’s it, little man. Show me how inferior you are,” I said menacingly, then grabbed the back of his head with my right hand and dragged his mouth to the downward pointing left nipple. “You love how I can, how I HAVE, ripped you apart without even breaking a sweat, don’t you?” I didn’t need him to say anything; I already knew the answer. He fucking loved it. I brought my left arm down, put his head in the crook of the elbow and flexed the left side. His mouth yielded to my incredibly hard pec as my bicep and forearm’s titanic brachioradialis and pronator teres bore into his skull. I kept increasing the pressure until I heard cracks and Art whimpering in pain. Then I released him. He fell on his hands and knees to the floor. The shower head sprayed water against the back of my head. What water didn’t flow down my back was cascading off my pecs like Niagara Falls and pummeled his back and head. I clenched my hands into fists and slightly bent my arms while expanding my chest, flexing my arms, pecs and abs. I squeezed the muscles of my legs until they resembled the marble columns of a Greek temple. I looked down my nose at the pathetic excuse for a male at my feet. I am Colossus standing before a teenager. A teenager with an Olympic swimmer muscular body. When Art finally looked up his eyes became as big as saucers. The head of my semi-hard summer sausage sized cock was an inch from his face. When he reached up to my cock I grabbed his hands “Please,” he pleaded. “I want...NEED your cock in me!” I could see his six inch dicklet was as hard as it could get over his inadequate balls. I put his trembling hands on my cinder block abs. “I will NOT repeat myself,” I said in a low menacing voice. He almost cried in frustration as he slid his hands over my abs, down my adonis belt, over each bulging muscle group in my left quad’s rectus femoris, vastus lateralis and vastus medialis, then onto the gastrocnemius and peroneus longus, the two halves of my diamond shaped left calf. From there he licked two days worth of sweat and grime off every inch of me. I flexed and squeezed the muscle under Art’s mouth just to remind him how immensely powerful I am. After he tongue bathed both arms and armpits he placed his hands on my mountainous trapezius and stood on his toes to reach my neck. The sensation of his tiny body against my solid granite muscles started to arouse me. My rapidly hardening cock rising against his pintsized six pack made me groan. Thankfully Art finished his makeout session with my traps and neck quickly. I turned around, flared the muscles of my back; trapezius, latissimus dorsi, rhomboid major and teres, major and minor. Calmly as I could, commanded, “Now my back. Start at the bottom.” I heard him drop to his knees and felt his hands on my hips as he buried his nose and tongue between unbreakable globes of my gluteus maximus. New sensations shot up my spine, ricocheted around my brain, back down my spine, bounced off my testicles, went up my cock and exploded in the glans. I involuntarily threw back my head and grunted as a literal pint of pre splashed against the shower wall. I saw two of the tiles crack after being hit with such pressure. Art must have noticed because he was taking his own sweet fucking time licking off any piece of shit I missed. ‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘I’m going to have to make sure he brushes his teeth again.’ ‘Can’t me think of any better puns than that?’ Ego snidely interjected. ‘Tell him to fucking hurry it up.’ “Boy, if you keep that up there won’t be any cum left for your ass. Move up.” “Yes, Daddy,” Art disappointedly replied. He licked, sucked and kissed up my wide, thick back until he swept the last speck of sweat off my trapezius at the back of my neck. When I felt his pathetic little wee-wee against me I spun around to face him, grabbed his neck and lifted him off his feet. He must have weighed 200 pounds, but it felt like I was lifting a paper marionette. “Are you ready to get FUCKED, boy?!” I growled from deep in my chest. He put his delicate hands on my pectoralis major, caressing them. “Yes, Daddy. Fuck your little boy.” His hands slid downward, over my ten pack abs. “Show me how an Alpha takes what He wants…” He started spreading the pre flowing from the meatus over the shaft, hand over hand, with another eight inches of cock exposed. His hands couldn't even encircle half my girth. “...whenever He wants.” He then slid his right hand up and thumbed the sensitive spot on the shaft. The sensation made my pelvic floor and prostate clench, forcing a heavy blast of pre to splash against his abs and chest. Arthur scooped the emissions off with his right hand while still stroking my rod from base to tip with his left. He brought his cupped hand, completely covered and overflowing with sticky precum, to his mouth and drank. As he drained his hand of the clear, thick liquid, I felt his throat contract four times as he swallowed the goo. “And now I know,” he said with a quiet voice filled with lust and licentious inference, “what the mightiest Alpha on the planet and the last descendant tastes like.” ‘The WHAT?!’ Ego said loudly. ‘SHUT. THE FUCK. UP.’ I internally growled as I flicked my wrist, tossing and twisting this average height, muscular boy in the air. I caught the back of his head when it was facing me and drove it into the tile on the shower wall. Blood, bone and broken tile were blasted out from the crater I created in the wall. Art’s legs were instantly swept aside as my fully engorged cock rammed up into my totally helpless prey. With my cock supporting all his weight I released his head and put him into a Full Nelson hold, both of my hands were thrust under his arms, then I pressed against the back of his neck. As I pulled him away from the wall I saw blood splashing the destroyed tile; I must have crushed his nose. When I thrust up his weak hole he hooked his ankles around my dorsal calves and started to caress the rock-solid muscle. Now that I had him completely under my control I teased the fuck out of him by slowly and repeatedly only penetrating him with the glans. Still, he grunted from each breach of his rectum. “Fuck me...come on!”, he pleaded. “Fuck...grunt..me..aieee!...HARD!” I drew a devilishly evil grin as I did exactly not that. For minutes I teased this boy cunt as he begged louder and louder until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. “FUUUCK MEE! HURT MEE! GODS DAMMIT PUNISH ME!!” Suddenly rage blasted off of him, he unhooked his feet from my legs and planted them on the shower wall. Huge claws exploded out of his toes and heals, fracturing the tile as they were buried deep in the wall. Each of his legs grew thicker than my waist with impossibly huge thighs. In an inhuman voice he bellowed, “I SAID HURT ME!” I could feel his rectum constrict around my cock tighter than any hole I’ve ever had, squeezing down and painfully compressing my shaft. “FUCK ME HARD!” Then he thrust back. I was slammed into the wall under the shower head. I felt the tile behind me fracture as his tight hole forced its way down my cock. I heard tearing sounds and saw his ass rupture. His copious blood provided a little bit of lubrication, but not enough; it felt like the skin on my shaft was being rubbed off. He kept screaming in a sound that shouldn’t come from any living thing, “PUNISH ME!”. When his ass finally impacted my root, faster than I could see, he pulled off and rammed back down. Between his battering assaults I saw my cock distend and almost rupture his abdomen several times. If he kept this up any longer he was going to fuck himself to death. When he was within reach I hooked my right elbow around his neck and clasped hands. “Arthur! You have to stop this!” I yelled. He bucked like a bronco, I almost lost my grip twice before I was able to squeeze and restrict the blood flow in his carotid artery. Just before he passed out he entire body tensed up, his rectum almost ripped my cock off. A blast of cum blew tile off the shower wall in front of us. Then he slowly went limp and I lowered him to the floor. When my cock popped out of him, blood geysered out of him and down the shower drain. I stood up and looked down at him. His face was a mass of shredded skin, broken bone and blood, yet I could see the devastation on his face already healing. My cock looked no better. It was red, swollen, covered with his blood and shit and hurt like hell. As I rinsed off I applied some power to heal myself. By the time I finished Arthur was whimpering in his sleep. ‘What the hell just happened?’ I asked Ego. ‘You have no idea. I better get him in bed. Let him sleep,’ he replied. I picked up Arthur off the shower floor and cradled him in my arms. As I took him to the bed he softly cried, “I’m sorry...I tried…not my fault...forgive...” He immediately went into a fetal position when I laid him down on the bed. He let out a sigh when I brought the comforter over him as, somehow, a large brown teddy bear appeared in his arms. I went back into the bathroom and found a fresh toothbrush under the sink. After unpacking the toothbrush I gazed at my stubble covered cheeks and jaw in the mirror. It had been three days since I last shaved. I rubbed a hand along my jawline; I kinda liked the way this protobeard made me look. I decided to keep it. As I brushed my teeth, Ego said, ‘I don’t like the way he seeks pain. There’s something terribly wrong with him. Why does he feel he needs to be punished?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I mentally replied. ‘Whatever it was, it couldn’t be healthy for him to feel that way.’ “Are you two almost done?” I heard Bre yell from the kitchen. “You had the hell better not let all this food go to waste or I’ll barf a hairball in your shoes!” And I know she would. I exited the bathroom, expanded myself to the height I was earlier, packed on twice the muscle and walked towards the bedroom door leading to the hallway, looking at Arthur calmly lying on the mattress as I passed the bed. The comforter roiled and bulged in ways a human could never cause. I looked up just in time to bash my forehead on the top of the doorframe. ‘Smooth move, dude,’ I heard mockingly in my head. “Will you FUCK OFF!” I yelled aloud. “You had the HELL better not be talking to me, buster!” I heard from the kitchen. I grumbled, ducked my head and started down the hallway to the sun drenched kitchen. Rubbing my forehead I said, “I’m not. I just bashed my forehead on the door frame.” When I entered the kitchen Brenna was right at my side, guiding me to a chair at the kitchen table. As I sat (and the chair creaked under my weight) my mouth started watering from sight and scent of the food overflowing the table; eight three-egg omelettes (four cheese, mushroom & bacon and four veggie), a stack of twenty pancakes smothered in real maple syrup topped with real butter, two pounds of bacon, three pounds of venison sausage (from my uncle), two loaves of whole grain and seed bread and, the pièce de résistance, a two full pound of cheese curds. I love those big chunks of cheese, especially how they squeak when you bite into them. Hey! I’m a Wisconsinite, don’t judge me! Yes, I even have a Cheesehead Cheese Hat. My hungry eyes were torn away from the feast before me by a pair of ultra strong female hands on my cheeks. “Let me see,” Bre said with concern and straddled my lap, the top of her head below my chin. The taste of that emotion was like taking a bite of an orange flavored strawberry. Interesting, but not as interesting as looking down her cleavage, deeply segmented abs and her little exposed clit. “Well, you’re a little red up there,” she motheringly said, “but I don’t see any permanent damage.“ She brushed my forehead with her hand and pieces of wood and gypsum board fell into my line of sight. “You probably hurt the wall more than it hurt you.” “Speaking of hurting, did you hear Arthur and me in the shower.” She tilted her head down and her sad eyes slowly moved from my forehead to my abs. She put her hands lightly on my trapezius, feelings of worry and doubt made bile rise in my throat. “Something long ago…” she snapped her eyes to mine without lifting her chin “...happened to him. He won’t talk about it, no matter how much I ask. I...I just try to emotionally support him...love him the best I can.” Tears started to fall from her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do.” I wrapped my arms around and clutched her to my chest. She began to silently sob. ‘Well, shit. There goes the mood,’ Ego lamented. I silently agreed with him and slowly made myself decrease in size and mass. When Bre’s chin touches my collar bone, her puffy, tear streaked eyes meet mine and she sniffed. “Wha...what are you doing?” “I thought that you wouldn’t be in the mood since…” I said quietly, gently. “Oh, no you don’t you FUCKER!” she interrupted me, jabbed a hard finger into my sternum and exclaimed with all the ferocity of an IRS conducting a multi-year, twenty million dollar audit. “You fucking TEASED ME by making me suck you off ALL FUCKING NIGHT! I had to listen as you got tongue bathed and kissed all over your perfect body! Do you know how hard it was NOT to plunge my fingers up my cunt when I heard that?! Oh, you’re gonna fuck me, pal, and your gonna fuck me HARD! YOU WILL BE as big, as thick and as hard as you were when you walked in and YOU WILL pound me into submission! You’re gonna prove to me that you’re still my Master!” My cock rose against her ass in anticipation of feeling her hot, wet, tight hole and her admission of subservience. Her face then slowly went into the most evil grin I’ve ever seen and said, “But first you're eating all this food.” I groaned and complained, “And I’m called a tease.” “Yup!’ Bre laughed as she rose off my lap to stand beside me. She stood up on her toes, leaned forward, patted the top of my head and said, “I’m the queen Molly of teasing, baby. Now EAT!” My stomach loudly growled as I picked up a fork and spoon and dug into the mountain of protein, carbs and fiber. I kept glancing at Brenna between shoving huge chunks of food in my mouth. She was still in my unbuttoned dress shirt, leaning her perfect, hard gluteus maximus against the kitchen counter and holding one of my biggest ceramic coffee mugs. It’s the one that says, “Accountants take accounting of their accounts.” Before you say ANYTHING, it was a UW graduation gift from my aunt. Every once and a while she would take a sip from the steaming liquid in the mug. A few seconds later she would sigh, tilt her head to the side and her eyelids would almost close. The liquid’s scent wafting in my direction smelled like mint and chamomile. I fucking HATE herbal teas. When I was a teenager I had to help my uncle with bailing hay at the farm. After a whole day of breathing in dust and alfalfa flowers the crap running down my throat tastes exactly like herbal tea. Anyway, I finally shoveled in the last forkful of breakfast, leaned back in the chair and gave a hearty belch. “Now you have a choice, big boy.” Bre was still leaning back against the kitchen counter only now she had a huge stainless steel travel mug in one hand and her tea in the other. “Coffee…” she raised the travel mug “…tea…” she raised the ceramic mug “…or me?” She shrugged her shoulders, the button down shirt fell down to her elbows and waistline revealing a body that a heavy weight bodybuilder dreams of; tight waist, tendinous inscriptions that were three inches thick, shredded serratus anterior, latissimus dorsi that imitated a cobra’s hood, at least twenty-five inch upper arms, deltoids the size and hardness of bowling balls, trapezius that rose two-thirds of the way to her ears and pectorals that were hard and firm. If just those muscles were on a woman her size that woman would be considered pretty stacked. Brenna had those muscles AND incredible breasts with small brown areola and thick, inch long, nipples. Her torso supported by legs thick enough to squat a ton, yet shapely enough to give a guy whiplash as he turned his head for a second or fourth look. All this sculpted marble muscle on a five foot three inch frame made her look freaky...freaky sexy! I locked eyes with her and, deliberately, slowly stood up. As I rose from the chair I made myself grow in height until Bre’s eyes were level with my navel. I flexed first my left bicep, then my right, then my cock, as I walked towards her. I made sure that each footstep made the house rattle. When my glans pressed into her impenetrable abs I raised my hand as if I was to stroke her cheek. She tilted her head in that direction expecting my touch. In the last instant, I grabbed the travel mug, downed the entire contents in two gulps, crushed the container and tossed the now useless scrap metal over my shoulder. If you remember from our first (one-sided) conversation, you know that I can’t function in the mornings without a couple of cups of coffee in me. While the caffeine worked its magic on the A1 and A2A receptors I advanced on my prey. Bre held up a finger and said, “Waitaminute,” and took a deep drink from her tea. Almost instantly her pupils dilated. She set the mug on the countertop behind her and reached up to put both of her muscled, veined, tiny hands on my pecs. Then she extended and dragged feline-like claws from the ends of her fingers across my taut skin. She took a step or two towards me, making my painfully hard cock rise up until it was nestled in her cleavage. “So, are you going to use this big thing to fuck me?” she seductively said. “Plunge it deep into my hot, wet cunt?” She started to slowly bounce her pectorals, making her breasts stroke my leaking cock. “I think you're just going to peter out, “she brought her elbows inward, using her upper arms to squeeze her breasts tighter, “just like the little boy you are.” That did it. Now I was not just sexually aroused, but my dominance was thrown into question. Yes, I know she did that on purpose just to get me to fuck her hard. Well...it worked. I growled as I grabbed her gluteus maximus and lifted her 350 pound weight above my head like she was a feather. I easily squeezed and spread those unbreakable muscles in my hands to expose her ass and pussy. It took me a second or two to properly line up my cock with her leaking hole, then I explosively brought her down. As soon as I felt her hot, wet lips against my glans I flexed my rectus abdominis and thrust up into her. Whether by design or not, she was so virgin tight that I was only able to get the glans and an inch of shaft into her. She threw back her head and screamed so loud I’m sure the neighbors would call the cops. Her hands clenched my trapezius hard. Her claws pierced my skin, but couldn’t penetrate the steel-hard muscle. I repeatedly pulled my cock out to the glans using my core muscles, then forced her to take another inch while I roared and she screamed at every fuck, “YOU THINK...” two inches in, pull out “...THAT THIS COCK...three inches in, pull out “...is a BOY’S DICK…” four inches in, pull out “THIS!” five in “IS” six in “A” seven in “MAN’S” eight in “COCK!” I rammed the remainder of my shaft into her as she started to scratch my back with those sharp claws. I still hadn’t touched her cervix, she must have deepened her vagina just to tease me. I wasn’t in the mood for any of that. In the next thrust I lengthen my cock until I felt the entrance to her inner core. The next time I withdrew I packed on five more inches, two more inches in girth and hardened the organ until I could punch a hole through a three inch steel plate. Then I shattered her core with a single devastating ram. She threw back her head, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she used every last molecule of air in her lungs to scream again. At the same time I roared into her face with victory and dominance. I looked down and saw two or three inches of shaft were not buried in her. That would not do. I forced in the final inches until I’m balls deep in the most exquisite pussy on Earth. I removed my left hand from her ass, brought my arm up, bent the elbow and flexed my bicep so big it made Colman’s arms look insignificant. I continued my devastation of her vigina and womb. I dropped my voice three octaves and, with each skewering thrust punctuating each word, said, “I...am...your...ALPHA...your...MASTER!” She grunted and cried out with every word. “Every...other...male...is...insignificant...next...to...ME!” She grabbed my incredibly hard, vein covered arm and threw her mouth onto my shoulder. She bit down as I felt her legs begin to spasm. “I...AM...A...YOUR…GOD!” With the last word I drop my voice into the infrasound level. That word couldn’t be heard, yet windows and plates rattled, the house creaked. Brenna screamed around the muscle in her mouth and explosively squirted a gallon of girl cum on my abs and legs. Now that the natural order of things had been reestablished I lifted her off me and threw her against the kitchen counter in front of the sink and the window to the backyard. Her rectus abdominis shattered the marble countertop and bent the stainless steel sink. I waste no time in pinning her hands to the countertop at her side and ramming myself up her still quivering cunt. I took my time now, relishing each inch of her. While I slowly saw in and out of her I admired her shoulders and back. I ran a hand over her back. Her teres, major and minor, rhomboid major and infraspinatus almost rose above the larger trapezius and latissimus dorsi. Each muscle group was incredibly defined, stirated, thick and hard. She was the apex of muscular beauty. And my blood boiled with testosterone as I broke her. I cupped her chin and slowly pulled her head back. She resisted with all her considerable might, muscles flexed and pumped up with blood and superficial veins popped up under reddening skin. I could see her breasts swinging on her chest when her head met my upper abs. Her nipples were long, thick and diamond hard. I moved my hand down to her neck, slammed into her and demanded, “Who am I?” “AHHHHH!! You’re Bruce Banderole!” She squeezed her eyes shut. I viciously ram up. “Wrong answer. LOOK AT ME!!” Brenna eyes fly open as she grunts from the impact, “You...you’re my MMMaaasterrr!” Again, I smash through her cervix and punch the far wall of her uterus. “Try AGAIN!” “You’re the...the LAST ONE!!” she screamed as another orgasm racked her body and she crushed the marble countertop under her hands. Not exactly what I was working towards. ‘What the FUCK?!’ Ego interjected. I ignored him and released Brenna’s neck. She fell forward into the sink. Her back was covered with sweat and she was breathing like she just finished a marathon. I, however, was breathing like I was sitting in a chair and no moisture appeared on my brow. I looked out the window and saw Fred Metzer holding a hose in his hand in his backyard. His hand was at his side as he was totally engrossed with the carnal spectacle I was giving him. The hose looked like his limp two inch dick. His mischievous son had crimped the hose causing the water pressure to fall. I seized Bre’s hair and lifted her head up so she could see Fred. “See that beta boy? See how limp his dick is?” She started breathing hard again. I released her hair and gave Fred the biggest fucking monster sized double bi flex he would ever see. His life changed forever; his eyes bugged out, he slouched and became the lesser male I always knew he was. Yeah, that’s right, boy. You’re a one, maybe two, on the male scale. I’m a one fucking hundred. “That’s what every other male is next to me.” I drank in the firehose of emotions Fred was directing at me; envy, submission and, wait a minute, need? That little fucker actually thinks I’d let him touch me. I gave him a little taste of what he would never have, never achieve; I bent my head down and licked a throbbing vein on a football-sized bicep. Brenna jerked and cried out when I took that power to thicken my already titanic cock, harden it until I could pulverize diamonds. Fred finally noticed that the water wasn’t coming out of the hose and lifted it up to peer inside. His son chose that exact moment to release the pressure. The poor beta got a face full of water that blasted out of the hose. “And that happens every time those weakling BOYS see me fuck their women, claim their women, TAKE their women!” Her third orgasm hit her like a 10.0 Richter Scale earthquake. She pushed her hands forward, plowing through the two inch thick stone countertop as easily as you would push your hand through clay. When she comes down from the euphoria she’s so out of it that her trembling legs aren’t supporting her weight. The only thing keeping her upright is my cock. I take a step backwards, pulling her away from the countertop. I let her leg dangle in midair for a few seconds, then I lowered my still mind blowingly hard cock. She slid down my cock to lay like a puddle of muscle on the kitchen linoleum. I reached down, grabbed her hair, yanked her to her knees, bellowed, “I’m not done with you yet!” and rammed my cock down her throat. It took a few seconds to come to and realize I was fucking her throat, but when she does, oooh man, she took over. Her tongue lashed and whipped every inch of cock that wasn’t in her throat, bobbed her head up and down my shaft so fast she became a blur. Under that assault it wasn’t long before I reached and shattered my own orgasmic threshold. I arched my back, threw back my head, shoulders and arms and flexed every single muscle cell in my entire body in an effort to blast my very essence through the little slit at the tip of my cock and roared. Brenna grabbed my hips and hung on for dear life as I erupted for five minutes down her throat. She clawed at my legs as she slid down my satisfied cock. She purred when I looked down over my pecs at her. She eventually shifted herself to sit against the cabinet. She reached up and stroked my softening, yet still massive cock. “Feeling better now?” I said. Brenna, my cat, said, “Hmmmm, maybe a little,” and smiled up at me. Bre then reached up and took the mug from the countertop. Somehow it had survived the destruction we wrought against the granite stone and sink. She took a sip and said, “Oooo yeah...that’s better.” She complained as I took the mug out of her hand, held it to my nose and sniffed. Yeah, it definitely smelled like a thirteen hour day of bailing hay, yet there was something else in it...something familiar. “What the hell is this?” I asked Bre. “It’s catnip tea,” Arthur said from the kitchen doorway looking only at his sister. Bre snatched the mug out of my hand and drained the remaining tea in one gulp. Art stood at five feet four inches tall and looked like a pale university freshman. His long brown hair hung over his hazel eyes and he was rail thin. The skinny jeans he wore were baggy, his dirty white shoes untied and his maroon wife beater shirt was three sizes too big. The shirt had a cartoon of Goldy Gopher, the University of Minnesota mascot, coming out of a hole in the ground giving a thumbs up. The caption, in a semicircle above the illustration, said, “GO MIGHTY GOPHERS!” “She’s like you with coffee; needs it to start the day.” Bre looked up at me, nodded her head and giggled. “We sometimes like to keep part of the animal when we are human. I, for instance, just like every dog, likes…” Bre perked up, raised herself on one arm while she pointed the mug at her brother. “Oh, no. DON’T YOU DARE say what I think you’re going to say!” Undeterred Art continues “...to suck on a bone and lick some balls every once and awhile.” I chuckled while Bre, who’s probably heard every pun Art has uttered, put her head in her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Oh, gods dammit. I was just about to have a good day.” “Anyway, remember that thing that happened four days ago?” Bre immediately sobered up, turned serious, looked up to Art and put a trembling hand on my thigh. “Yeah,” she said, trying to hide the concern in her voice. “I got a text. I have to do the thing. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be gone for several days.” I didn’t like the sound of this. I turned to face him and returned myself to my default setting, six foot six inches tall, on-season championship bodybuilder with a thick, uncut seven inch flaccid penis and testicles to match. “Arthur, about what happened in the shower,” I started to say. “I won’t be able to contact you Bre...” he ignored and interrupted me. “...so don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he said, then turned towards the front door and walked away. “Whatever is troubling you...” Art stopped halfway to the door and stood still; his back tensed up. “...I know we can work it out together.” Without acknowledging my offer he continued to the front door. He turned the doorknob and threw the door open. Even before the door slammed into the adjoining wall, he was gone. The door bounced off the wall, only closing half way. From the time Authur entered the kitchen to when he left, I only felt darkness from him. Bre walked up to my side. She slipped under my arm and wrapped her arm around my waist. Her free hand rested on my chest. Staring at the door I quietly said, “I’m worried about him.” “I know.” “He’ll be beaten to a pulp if the football team sees him in that shirt.” “I’m more worried about what he’d do to them.” Bre then looked up, patted my chest and said, “Come on. You’ve got that human physical thing to do and it’s getting late.” She grabbed my hand, went up to the front door to close it then led me back to my bedroom where she proceeded to open my closet and rifled through my clothes. Three wardrobe changes later I’m wearing a tight red polo shirt, blue jeans and a pair of running shoes. Brenna had fastened all the buttons on the shirt. I immediately flexed my pectorals and trapezius, making the buttons burst off of me and ricochet off the walls. I looked down to see the canyon of my chest cleavage. She rolled her eyes and shoved me out the door. “Have fun, and don’t worry about the cum stains everywhere. I’ll lick them up!” she yelled after me and slammed the door. I turned around to get in the Lycan and saw old Ms. Chakancy, with her little white miniature poodle Killer on a leash, giving me an incredulous look. I just looked at her as I walked to the car and opened the door, gave her an award-winning smile and said, “Don’t ya just love weekend long orgies?” and entered the car. “Well, I never!” she exclaimed. Ego snorted and said, ‘No shit lady. You probably couldn’t get laid giving blow jobs at a horny blind man's convention.’ ‘Now, now, let’s be nice to the old bat,’ I internally replied, started the car and burnt rubber rocketing out of the driveway and onto the street. ‘Be nice! She calls the cops every time Debbie drives up with her stereo on!’ Ahh, yes. Deb does love her Norwegian Death Metal music at maximum volume. I get the mental impression of Ego taking a deep breath and calming himself down. ‘Alright. The doctor’s office in Verona. Due to my morning extracurricular activities...” he emphasized the word ‘activities’ ‘…the morning rush is over so it should only take I seventeen minutes to get there. The appointment is forty-five minutes from now so me have plenty of time. And what the fuck is this ‘You’re the last descendent’ and ‘You’re the one’ bullshit?’ I rolled my eyes and said aloud, “How the hell should I know and thanks, Siri.” ‘Oh, so I’m my digital assistant now, eh? In that case…’ and I’m forced to listen to knock knock jokes until, three miles later, in the middle of South Midvale Boulevard, the car backfired and rapidly lost power.
  3. TQuintA

    Completely Customizable

    Author's note: if you don't care about backstory, skip to Chapter 2. Chapter 1 “Happy retirement!” Walter said, throwing confetti as I came through the living room door. I’d already torn down a hand-painted construction paper banner in the foyer saying the exact same thing. There was another brown paper banner in the hallway to the living room, which was lined in crepe paper and balloons. Here in the living room, which was festooned with multi-colored streamers and even more balloons, there was yet another banner saying the exact same thing, this one with characters from Winnie the Pooh on it, and the coffee table was scattered with a whole bunch of party favors he clearly bought at a Dollar Store. We’re wealthy. Incredibly wealthy. Walter bought chintzy decorations just to get a laugh out of me. “You know I hate that word,” I said through a snicker. As much as I wanted to get angry, the image of Tigger and Piglet on a retirement banner was too absurd. He knew today was going to be hard for me. I saw today more as a surrender or a bereavement than a retirement. My darling husband Walter was trying to wind me up and turn it into a joke. But I wasn’t going to fall for it, instead dropping off my messenger bag in an arm chair, popping a balloon with my keys, and dropping my phone on the table, knocking some noisemakers to the floor. “I’m 30. That word makes me sound like I’m an old geezer.” Walter came over and embraced me. “Use whatever word you want, Logan. This is a celebration. I’m just so happy you stopped banging your head against the wall. It was making you miserable.” I held him tightly and breathed him in. He always smelled pleasantly of the sea. I don’t know how, but it was true. Brine and wind and sunshine. Feeling him fill my lungs, I closed my eyes and felt myself relax for the first time all day, melting a little in his arms. Then I opened my eyes and saw Eeyore staring back at me. I pulled away from Walter a little. “If you’re really sorry,” I said, pointing to the banner, “you’ll take that monstrosity down.” “Right. On it,” Walter said, running over to the sign and pulling it down with an overenthusiastic jump. I wasn’t really retiring. Not really. I’d been trying to find success as an actor since my 18th birthday. I’d had some minor successes, one or two commercials, some paid community theater. Things like that. But, the closer I got to 30, the more I knew that if I didn’t have a breakout success soon, I’d never have it. Now that my 30th birthday was well behind me, it felt futile to keep trying. I’d tried for twelve years with no career to show for it. My luck was giving out, so I was giving up and giving in. Walter, for his sake, had been entirely supportive of my career even though he hated how much it hurt me. He helped me get better representation, he helped me prepare for my auditions, and he paid for my acting classes. To his credit, he never just bought a production studio or bribed someone into casting me. He knew it was important to me to succeed or fail by my own merits, and while he gave me a helping hand, he never gave me a handout. And, most special of all, in my defeated moments, he reminded me that I could always just stop working, that I was choosing to endure this grind in pursuit of my dream. Reminding me it was my choice kept me grounded. A lot of acting was just being rejected over and over again. Too tall. Nose too big. Face too small. Too buff. Too blond. Not blond enough. His eyes don’t match the set. Every flaw I had, real or imagined, was magnified into the whole of my existence. It was never about my talent. It was always about my looks. I spent hours staring in the mirror, grooming and preening, to make myself as presentable as possible. It was dehumanizing. But when I landed a gig, I felt seen and powerful and beautiful. When I was in front of an audience, I felt electric and vital. And not all the preening was a drag. I loved working out, and acting gave me an excuse to keep up my football physique from high school. The only downside to that was that I couldn’t get too big. You get too big, you get no gig. So, acting was a head trip, but it was, as Walter lovingly reminded me, what I’d chosen. And it was my choice. When I said Walter could buy me a production studio, I meant it. Walter is Walter Jaffetz. That Walter Jaffetz. Tech billionaire Walter Jaffetz. You’ve probably seen me in some press coverage of him. I’m the handsome blond man on his arm in most of his publicity photos. Walter is enormously wealthy and happy to support me forever. I didn’t need to work. I chose to. Most people—including every newspaper and magazine in print—think I’m some sort of trophy husband. They say it over and over again. I hate it. Most publications don’t even bother asking my name. Before we got married, Walter wanted us to hyphenate our last names, but I decided to take his last name because “Logan Jaffetz” sounds like more of an actor’s name than “Logan Smith.” But that decision went nowhere. I’m not even “third-rate actor, Logan Jaffetz.” Hell, they only refer to me if they’re talking about both of us. And then, we’re “Mr. and Mr. Jaffetz” or “Walter Jaffetz, and husband.” Walter’s tried to correct them, but still, I’m just “and husband.” I swear I’m not a trophy husband. I try to take it as a compliment. As evidence that I’m movie-star-gorgeous. I am handsome, statuesque, and buff. I’m blond with green eyes. I work to keep my tan even. My stats are impressive: 6’1” and 200 pounds. I have a tight waist, broad shoulders, manicured chest hair, dazzlingly white smile, and strong chin. I really am that breathtaking. And I’m married to Walter. Physically, there’s nothing outstanding about Walter—he’s a plain-looking, regular Joe. He’s got a very slight belly, is only 5’7”, has curly reddish brown hair that he frequently leaves uncombed, and despite being 30 years old like me, he has grey at his temples, laugh lines, and the beginnings of crows feet, so he looks significantly older than he is. And, he’s also a famous tech billionaire. Put all those facts together, and most people draw the wrong conclusion. I married Walter before he got rich. We were high school sweethearts. I was a popular jock; he was valedictorian. Both of us were well-known at our school. I was the openly gay star of the football team and the spring musicals all four years (even freshman year). Walter was the brilliant genius who was only doing school the normal way to make his parents happy (he probably could’ve graduated high school when he was 8). Yeah, like I said, he was average-looking and he forgot to comb his hair a lot, but he had the most dazzling brown eyes I’d even seen. Whenever he gave a speech (he was, of course, on student council), I would get lost in his words. I love words, and his words were beautiful. I was drawn to him even before I realized he was drawn to me. For the first two years of high school, it didn’t even occur to me he might also be gay. Then, I caught him staring at me in the cafeteria. After that, I noticed he was coming to watch the football team practice even though I never saw him at even one game. He came to my practices to ogle me, and I knew it. And I wanted him to know it too. So, every time I saw him drooling over me, I’d wave. And whenever I waved at him, he’d turn bright red and hide. I found his mousiness and skittishness irresistible. And, I could tell—even through his highly unfashionable cargo pants—that he had a magnificently fuckable ass. Since he had trouble getting closer than 50 feet to me, I pursued him. I asked him out. Walter says if I hadn’t made the first move, we never would’ve gotten together. On our first date, I took him to this little café I took all my men to (because it was right next door to a motel). I thought he would be a fun little tryst—I’d never bagged a brainiac before. But the affable little bugger is the most charismatic, animalistic, primal force I have ever encountered. He has an ineffable magnetic energy that that will not be denied. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but get in the same room as him, and its undeniable. According to Walter, he knew he only had one chance with me, so he turned the full force of his personality on me, a firehose of charm. I was in love with him before our waters were poured. I took his virginity soon afterwards (he made me wait a whole month and earn it), and, oh, was I right about his ass. Once he learned how to use his ass (once I taught him how to use his ass), he became a sex machine. He could ride me like a bucking bronco. He was a confirmed bottom—he tried topping me a few times but didn’t like it. That was fine by me because I could think of nothing finer than blowing him or plowing him with my seven inches of steel. We started dating in the middle of junior year, and I proposed to him the day we graduated. I’d actually proposed to him the summer prior after a night of raucous love-making, but he said he wouldn’t make up his mind until he graduated high school. As soon as we were declared graduates, I was down on one knee. This time, he said yes. It’s not lost on me that I’m the only person Walter’s had sex with. After he accepted my proposal but before our wedding, I gave him the opportunity to play the field a little bit. Have sex with some other men guilt and blame free—no tears and no recriminations—to make sure he wanted to commit to me. Something like a gay Rumspringa. Walter just shook his head and said, “Don’t need to. You’re my always.” Our wedding was a modest affair in his parents’ backyard. All of 18 people attended. Back then, we couldn’t afford more. Walter didn’t get fabulously wealthy until we’d been married for two years. He never went to college. He’d already been inventing things for years, so he didn’t see the point. I never doubted him. I was convinced that if he could get over his shyness and show everyone else what he showed me on that first date, he could take over the world. Those first two years of marriage, though, were a financial struggle. We borrowed money from my parents more than once. They begrudgingly gave the financial support and hinted I should give up acting and/or find a more economically stable husband. Walter and I were in love, so we didn’t care. But then, like lightning, one after the other, he invented a spate of medical devices he called “the money-makers.” He got the patents in a snap, but no tech companies wanted to take a risk on a 20-year-old kid with no college degree. The first six companies he pitched his inventions to all said no. He was about to chuck it all in, acquiesce, and go to college just so people would take him seriously. Then, I gave him some advice. To me, it was just friendly advice, but according to Walter, they were words that changed his life forever. “Don’t try to sell your inventions. Try to seduce the investors.” Intrigued, he asked, “How would that even work?” “Just do it like you seduced me. Everyone—even me—thought I was way out of your league, but by the end of our first date, you had me wrapped around your little pinky. You picked the time and location of our next date. You even told me what to wear. And I would’ve done any dirty, kinky, nasty thing you could’ve dreamed up—in front of my grandmother even. But you wanted to wait and take things slow, so I went from fucking three different studs a week to waiting patiently for you. I was not used to guys calling the shots or saying no to me, and you kept me on simmer for a month. Bring that guy to the sales pitch.” Then, I added, “And let me style your hair before you go.” The very next company invested—gave twice as much as Walter was asking for—and the rest was history. I’m proud of him, naturally, but I don’t fully understand his inventions. Walter’s explained them to me more than once, but he’s done it in excessive scientific and anatomic detail. I’m a bright guy, but I’m not Walter Jaffetz. He forgets that my understanding of biology ends at “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” What I do understand is that his machines make surgery easier and safer with less chance of infection. Hospitals all across the world use my Walter’s creations. Once he became a billionaire, he even donated hospital equipment to places that couldn’t afford it. Have I been saying “billionaire”? I suppose it’s the correct term, but it understates the reality. Nowadays, “billionaire” doesn’t do justice to his financial status. His patents churn out money faster than anyone could ever spend it. He repaid my parents every cent they lent us, with interest, and then bought them their dream home. He bought his parents a dream home. He bought the mansion we live in and both our luxury cars. He bought the café where we had our first date to make sure it never closes. I reassure him he doesn’t have to buy my love, but if I have even a tiny whim, he buys it for me. Walter says he’s glad I’m not materialistic because he would buy me anything I ask for. He could afford it. Hell, I could spend like the casts of all The Real Housewives for a decade, and Walter would still have money in the bank. So, when I say I chose to work, I meant it. “Since this isn’t a retirement retirement,” Walter said as he tore down the Winnie the Pooh banner, “What’s next for Mr. Logan Jaffetz?” “A stiff drink and then sex with my husband,” I answered, crashing onto the couch. “Both excellent ideas,” Walter said, crashing next to me. He put his hand on my thigh and said, “But I mean life-wise. What’s the next step? What’s the plan? If I know my husband, you wouldn’t have quit acting without a back-up plan.” I honestly admitted, “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Walter genuinely looked shock. “You never cease to surprise me.” I shrugged. “I just knew I had to quit acting.” Walter tilted my head down so it rested on his shoulder, and held me in his arms. “Can I say that I’m glad you quit? Do I lose my Supportive Husband Card if I admit how thrilled I am that you quit?” I reveled in Walter’s arms around me, breathing him in like an aromatherapy candle. “I knew you wanted me to quit.” “Ah, but I helped you as best I could and never explicitly said anything.” “True. You get credit for that. But now I have no idea what I’m doing with the rest of my life.” Casually leaning over me, he asked, “What would help you most? Just sitting here in silence? Pointless shopping spree? Words of empathy and comfort? Crying and ice cream? Jumping right into problem solving mode?” I sat straight up, almost crashing into Walter. “Problem solving please,” I said. “That sounds perfect.” Walter nodded and said, “You got it.” He turned his body so he was facing me. “Well, you’re a witty fellow who’s good with words. Way better than me. You could try to be a writer.” I nodded noncommittally. Walter could tell I wasn’t sold. “Oh! You’re gorgeous and blond and a great public speaker. Politics!” “I’d need a degree to do it right.” He waved his hands at me like a magician’s assistant, saying, “Then, get a degree.” I shook my head emphatically. “I don’t think my heart’s in that.” “Heart, huh?” Walter thought for a second. “We could adopt a kid. Or a whole bunch. We’d be excellent fathers, and you could be a stay-at-home dad.” There was definitely an appeal in that. But that was a stopgap, not a solution. “Adopting a kid because I have no plans wouldn’t fix my problems, and it would be unfair to the kid.” “Fair enough.” Walter contemplated a few seconds before offering, “You could travel for a while to figure yourself out. See the world. You’ve commented how frequently I travel on business. You could join me. Keep me company en route and at the hotels, and then have your own adventures while I’m cooped up in meetings.” That idea sat poorly with me. “Wouldn’t that just be submitting to the whole trophy husband thing? Wouldn’t that just make me look like a handsome idiot you keep around for sex and eye candy?” Walter stroked my cheek affectionately. “Logan, everyone these last ten years has already assumed you were my boy toy, and we both know they’re wrong. They’re the idiots. As soon as anyone gets to know us, they realize how amazing you are and that they were wrong too.” I turned around so I could lean my head on Walter’s shoulder again. “I could go out of my way to prove everybody wrong. Commit to becoming ugly,” I suggested jokingly. “Lose 30 pounds of muscle.” Walter could tell what game I was playing, so he played along. “Gain 100 pounds of fat.” “Start dressing in stained t-shirts and sweatpants.” “Shave a bald spot.” “Pull out a few teeth.” “Stop showering.” By then I was laughing—full on belly-laughing. “Can you imagine?” “I can,” Walter said, kissing the top of my head. “I’d still love you.” I pulled him down closer to me to kiss his forehead. “Thanks.” Then, as an afterthought, I added, “You know, I actually wish I had the guts to try all of that, just to see what the press would say.” “They’d say, ‘Walter Jaffetz’s husband has really let himself go. How long until Walter files for divorce?’” That fell eerily accurate. “Yeah. You’re right. Once a trophy husband, always a trophy husband. That’s all they can see me as.” “The comments aren’t about you. They’re a reflection of the people who write them and what they think their audience wants to read.” “You’re right,” I repeated emphatically. “No matter what I do, they’ll see me as the braindead hunk who tricked you into marrying me so I could spend your money.” Just then, a brainstorm hit me, so I sat up and turned to face Walter. “I should go the other way.” Walter raised an eyebrow, curious. “I like working out, and we both love my muscles. But I only ever worked out just enough to be viable as an actor. I could really lean into my workouts. Become a bloated mass of muscles straight out of a fetish video. Use your access to medical science to make it happen inhumanly fast.” With a poker face, Walter asked, “Is that something you’d want?” I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I’d really like that.” “Then let’s go for it. I’ll hire you a trainer in the morning.” I tackled Walter and covered him in kisses. “You’re the best!” Walter laughed. “Oh no!” he cried in sarcastic, faux panic. “My gorgeous, muscly husband wants to become even more muscly and gorgeous.” Then, in his normal tone, he said, “It’s no sacrifice on my part, Logan. You’d be making my wet dreams come true.” “If we’re going wet dream,” I said, still lying on top of him, “we should make my cock bigger too. Pumping. Pills. Surgery. Whatever’s most effective. We’ll research.” “Your cock is plenty big,” he reassured me. I wriggled on top of him. “We’re talking wet dreams, Jaffetz! Be bold!” Walter scooted out from under me, stood up, and held out his hand to help me up. “If we’re talking dreams, let me show you your retirement present.” “You got me a present?” “It’s a present for both of us,” Walter admitted, pulling me to my feet. “I didn’t plan on giving it to you today. Today has taken some…” he paused for a second, looking for the right word, landing on, “interesting turns. I thought today was going to be crying and ice cream. The freezer’s stocked. I didn’t plan on giving this to you for a few weeks. But, you keep me on my toes. If you’re in this frisky of a mood, we can go play.” “It’s a sex gift, then?” I leaned into Walter and thrust my crotch into his stomach. “Not specifically or uniquely, but I expect that’s how we’ll use it.” “Cryptic,” I said. “Into my workroom,” Walter said, leading me by the hand. I followed demurely.
  4. Part 1 – Physical Checkup Within vibrant city Silvercrest resided Alex, a 21-year-old first-year law student who hailed from a privileged background. However, he was determined to carve his own path and chase his aspirations with unwavering dedication. Despite his affluent upbringing, he valued the pursuit of knowledge and self-discovery, recognizing that true success comes from personal growth and achievement. Balancing his academic pursuits with a lively social life, Alex found solace in the company of his close-knit group of friends. Whether they engaged in heated debates or had exciting adventures, they forged a bond that transcended the shallow traps of societal expectations. Before his college days, Alex was a standout athlete in high school, particularly excelling in track and field. His lithe figure and athletic prowess made him an object of admiration, drawing the attention of many admirers. Yet, he prioritized his ambitions over fleeting romantic encounters, believing that love would find its way when the time was right. In addition, he was a superhero buff, although he didn’t look like one. One quiet afternoon, Alex went to the campus medical clinic for a routine check-up. Being a member of the university athletics team, he understood how important it is to maintain good physical condition and health. However, he considered it partly a waste of time, when at the same time he could use his time more effectively to study or relaxing by reading his favorite superhero comics. When Alex entered the doctor's office, he exuded confidence and athletic grace. His blond hair was meticulously swept back, revealing the well-defined features of his face. His blue eyes caught attention and reflect a sense of determination. Alex's fair complexion was flawless and radiant. His jawline was chiseled, accentuating the masculinity of his jaw. His athletic physique, standing at an impressive 6′0″, was evident even beneath his clothes, with pronounced muscle contours indicating his dedication to sports training. Clothed in a casual attire, consisting of a well-fitted shirt and jeans, Alex greeted with the doctor. Alex: Good morning, Doctor. Doctor: Good morning, Alex. The doctor was a middle-aged man, with a balding head covered in silver-streaked black hair. He wore a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, with lenses that magnified his large, hazel eyes. He was of average build, but carried himself with a confident air. He was wearing a white lab coat over a navy blue dress shirt, with black pants and a pair of polished loafer shoes. Doctor: Please have a seat. What brings you here? Alex: Just here for my regular check-up. Doctor: That's great to hear. We'll start by measuring your height. Alex took off his shoes and stood tall against the height measurement chart on the wall. The doctor carefully placed the measuring tape against the crown of Alex's head, noting down the measurement. Doctor: Your height is 6 feet (183cm). Now, let's move on to your weight. Alex stepped onto the scale, trying to maintain a balanced posture as the doctor adjusted the weights. The scale settled, and the doctor recorded the weight. Doctor: Your weight is 183 pounds (83kg). Now, let's determine your body fat percentage. Alex followed the doctor to the body composition analyzer, where he stood still as the electrodes sent gentle currents through his body. The machine displayed the results, and the doctor took note of the body fat percentage. Doctor: Your body fat percentage is 12%. That's quite impressive, Alex. Now, let's measure a few key body circumferences. The doctor took out a measuring tape and measured the circumferences of the chest, shoulders, neck, biceps, forearms, thighs, calves, and waist. He summarized the following results in the table: · Chest – 36 inches/91cm · Shoulders – 39 inches/99cm · Neck – 14 inches/36cm · Biceps – 13 inches/33cm each · Forearms – 10 inches/25cm each · Thighs – 19 inches/48cm each · Calves – 14 inches/36cm each · Waist – 34 inches/86cm With all the measurements taken and recorded, the doctor smiled and addressed Alex. Doctor: Overall, your physical measurements and body composition are quite impressive, Alex. Your dedication to fitness and athletics is clearly evident. Keep up the good work! Alex nodded, feeling that the doctor's compliments were just polite gestures. In his mind, he had images of the imposing silhouettes of superheroes from his comic books, fueling his desire to push his physical limits even further. However, as his eyes scanned the table behind the doctor, they landed on a jar labeled "Male Growth Fertility Cream," piquing his curiosity. He couldn't help but inquire about it. Alex: Excuse me, Doctor. I couldn't help but notice the jar over there. What's the "Male Growth Fertility Cream" for? The doctor's expression turned slightly surprised, but he maintained a professional demeanor. Doctor: Ah, yes. A pharmaceutical representative left that product here recently. While I appreciate the gesture, I must admit that I don't personally believe in its effectiveness. It's marketed as a plant-based cream that supposedly promotes muscle growth and enhances certain physical attributes, but there is limited scientific evidence to support those claims. Alex's curiosity deepened as he listened to the doctor's response. Alex: So, you're saying it might not actually work? Doctor: That's correct, Alex. While the cream may have some ingredients that are known to have potential effects on muscle growth, the overall efficacy and safety of the product remain uncertain. Alex nodded, secretly hoping that someday there might be magical shortcuts to his desired figure. Doctor: Let's get back to the checkup, do you agree that I should test your testicles? Alex: Of course, no problem, Doc The doctor then reached for the box of disposable gloves, but it was empty. Doctor: Let me leave you for a second, I'll just go get some new disposable gloves and we'll get started right away. As he waited for the doctor, his eyes were glued to the male growth cream. Alex (in his mind): This is my only chance, it's made of natural ingredients, so it shouldn't have any side effects. Without much thought, he took the opportunity to grab a jar of cream and quickly rubs the cream into his penis and puts it back before the doctor arrives. Once the doctor arrived the Alex’s muscles began to grow a little at various places. The doctor suspected this but he rejected the idea in cause of his sight defect. Doctor: Aaah okay, can you take off your briefs? Alex, wanting to take off his briefs, started to get up from the medical couch, but he immediately felt a burning sensation with every move he made and sat down immediately on the couch feeling the sensation in his briefs. Doctor: Are you okay? Alex (whimpering): GRAAAR! Alex groaned and gripped the couches tightly in his hands. Alex (in his mind): Fuck it burns! It hurts all over all! My skin is melting... stretching... fuck! It's hurts... so goooood!! He had experienced never before felt sensations of orgasmic pleasure throughout his body, and it felt as if he was being taken to heights of bliss that he hadn't even been able to imagine before. The doctor was confused as he watched as Alex's genitals began to grow at an alarming rate in his panties, stretching their material to the limit and finally destroying them. Alex (roaring deeply): Yessss!, I'm so fucking horny! Alex was excited as he had never felt anything like it before. He griped the couch harder as his muscles begun to stretch and bulge from his body uncontrollably, His chest grew larger, arms more defined and bigger, and waist smaller as his abs tightened. His legs bulked up and became solid pillars of muscle, capable of incredible feats of athleticism. His penis also seemed to grow as his testicles began to swell and throb, feeling that they had grown to gigantic proportions, almost like basketballs swollen with semen. His entire body has been marked and pierced by veins. His skin had ripped in strategic areas and now reveal impressive abs, pectorals, biceps and triceps. His hips and ass was round and tight. He became a better version of himself, something almost equal to a superhero's vision that he couldn't resist to flexed his newborn heights of muscles because he looked like a fitness model. Doctor: Holy shit! The doctor was amazed as he watched the Alex's transformation, his jaw and eyes were in a silent shock. Alex could barely contain his pleasure as the pain from his muscles growing and splitting subsided into an intense orgasmic feeling of pleasure. As he finished his transformation, he stand up and looked into the mirror, grabbing his meat in hands, which was leaking with precum and realized that he had become an Adonis, a perfect specimen of masculine beauty. He had lighter, thicker hair and his face seemed more chiseled from lower bodyfat. The doctor, seeing the ideal of a man in his eyes, gave in to hidden urges and desires. He began to adore the hunk in front of him, weighing huge balls in his hands. Doctor (grinning): "I was wondering...shall we celebrate this moment?" Alex just nodded, smiling wildly and soon doctor knelt before the handsome devil and began stroking his immense cock with one hand, while with the other hand he massaging and kneading his giant balls. The young man let out a deep moan of pleasure as the doctor skillfully worked his manhood, milking more and more precum from his giant cock. Alex (roaring): Damn, I need a hole now! Alex brutally grabbed the doctor, aggressively ripping off his pants, including his underwear. Without mercy, Alex firmly grasped the doctor's hips and shoved his leaking dick sharply into his tight ass, savoring every sensations. Alex (moaning): Ohhh... so tight! Doctor (gasping): Aaahn!!! Shit!!! The doctor gasped in a mix of surprise and pleasure, their bodies melding together in a symphony of ecstasy. He could feel the blows of that monstrous cock in his stomach, but quickly discomfort turned into pure pleasure. As Alex set a rhythm, the room filled with the sounds of their pleasure, the doctor's moans mingling with Alex's growls of satisfaction. Their movements became more urgent, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through their bodies. Doctor (whimpering): Urgh! Fuuck! Alex (grunting with desire): Do you like the way I widen your ass, Doc? Doctor (gasping): Yes big guy, it’s incredible to be penetrated by real male! Lost in the throes of passion, they explored the depths of their desires, giving in to the raw intensity of their connection. With each thrust, their orgasmic sensations took them to new heights of pleasure. Alex (screaming): Shit! I’m going to explode inside you! Finally, the young man and doctor released his pent- up pleasure in a rapturous scream of ecstasy, as wave upon wave of intense orgasmic pleasure coursed through their bodies and filled Doctor's belly with warm cum and the room with the fragrance of sexual pleasure. However, Alex then realized what he had done to the doctor and that his penis and testicles had shrunk, although they were still bigger than before. Alex: I'm so sorry doctor, I don't know what got into me. The doctor didn’t answer, his legs felt like jelly, he was kneeling on all fours, which worried the boy. Alex: Are you okay? I am very sorry. It's all about this cream. Then, unexpectedly, the doctor seemed to cringe in pain and freeze, accepting it. Doctor (in deep voice like a thunder): Now, it's my turn! Alex knew what’s coming. =============================================================================================================================== If there are mistakes in the text, I apologize and would be grateful if you point them out. English isn't my native language. I hope you liked it and I would love to read your feedback.
  5. Chapter 1 The bell above the door drew my attention as it clanged loudly. While the door swung open, I handed the customer at the counter in front of me their bread and change, but I was looking at Mason, who was walking through the door. I knew I loved Mason when he first walked through that same door two years ago. Same height as me (5’ 10”), but all skinny and slight with an adorable hipster mustache and well-groomed scruff. The second I saw his floofy light brown hair and soulful brown eyes, I was in love, no matter how much I tried to deny it to myself. He dressed like a dork, but he didn’t care. And because he didn’t care, I didn’t care. He had an easy smile, a way that made people feel comfortable, and a whimsical sense of humor. He has a youthfulness about him, and he’s three years older than me. All about him is a quiet confidence. I was hiring an accountant to help save my bakery, but I found the man of my dreams. At the time, I didn’t trust the instant attraction. For one, I was a solitary man. I wasn’t entirely lonely, but I was alone. Sure, I dated, and I was friendly to all my customers. But I was also guarded. I had no close friends, and none of my boyfriends ever got to know the real me. There was physical intimacy, but no emotional intimacy. The only person I could be myself around was my Gramps. I had a secret to protect. More than that, before Mason, every man I’d ever dated had been bigger than me, and I’m a buff, lean, and muscular 190 pounds. I just liked guys who were bigger than me. Hell, I’d held myself back from getting as big as I truly wanted to be because I wanted a to be a big man in a relationship with a bigger man. Every guy I dated I’d met at the gym, and I go to a gay gym that has some bodybuilders—had for years. If you’re picking up guys from a pool of bodybuilders, the chances that they’re going to be bigger than you just go up. I think the fact that Mason was so unlike every other guy I’d dated was part of the appeal. We were the same, but different. Complementary. We both loved to joke around, we both were childish, but we both took the business seriously. If one of us got too silly, the other would bring him back to Earth, and if one of us got too serious, the other would send him into a fit of laughter. He dressed loudly and garishly, but had an unshakably professional demeanor. I dressed plainly and pragmatically, but would laugh and flirt with the customers. Even just how we styled our hair complemented—the hair on his head was free-flowing and wild with a devil-may-care flair, but his facial hair was strictly groomed with no follicle out of place and his mustache tightly curled at the ends. I kept my dark black hair in a youthful cut with the sides buzzed, kept in place with enough product so it didn’t come loose as I worked. I tried to keep myself clean shaven (even though I love facial hair) because it made me look younger than my 30 years, but I often forget to shave, meaning I had lazy (and, if I may say so, sexy) scruff more often than not. In my eyes, Mason was perfect. Before we had even exchanged hellos, I knew I wanted him., on some deep, profound, mystical level, like my ancestors were calling out to me, saying, “That one!” I didn’t even care that I technically had a boyfriend when I met Mason. I just knew I wanted Mason more than any man I’d ever wanted. Two years later, and the bakery and our relationship were thriving. A year ago, Mason had moved in with me, into the apartment above the bakery. All of the businesses on this street have residences above them. We live in a small city just outside New York, a tourist town really. It’s big enough to have the amenities of a typical city, like a professional gym and a thriving arts scene, but small enough to have local charm, like a street full of people living in the apartments above their mom and pop businesses. Since Mason had moved in, we shared pretty much everything. Pretty much. Almost everything. I still had that one big secret I kept from him, but the secret was protecting him, not hurting him. Sometimes I felt guilty that I was holding back a big part of my life from him, but I’d never shared that part of my life with any of my boyfriends. Mason was different, though. I knew the day would come when I’d let him in on it. Just not yet. Mason had proposed to me the day before. We were too busy fucking each other’s brains out the night prior to share any life-altering secrets. As soon as I had an opening, I’d tell him. If I was ready to marry the man, I was ready to share everything everything with him. This day, Mason was dressed unusually. I was used to him dressed like an overgrown toddler: t-shirts with cartoon characters, brightly colored socks, and blue jeans. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wear crocs or suspenders. Sometimes both in the same outfit. This outfit, though… He was in a very sharp suit: a silvery trim fit number with an ice blue shirt (to match my eyes) and a bold purple tie. “Have a nice day,” I told the customer, but my gaze never left Mason. My smile grew larger as he nervously came over to the counter, practically stuttering and stopping with each step. Odd again. I was used to Mason being smooth, charming, and confident—verging on cocky. Today, though, he was trying to hold back his anxiety. Thankfully, he relaxed a little when he saw my smile. “Someone’s dressed up,” I said, eyeing him up and down. “You’re cutting the line,” a customer complained to Mason. I realized I’d been neglecting my customers, turned to them, and said, “He’s cutting nothing, ma’ am. He works here. He’s my boyfriend.” “Fiancé,” Mason corrected. “Fiancé. Right.” It had been about twelve hours since Mason had popped the question; I was still adjusting. The only person I’d told was my Gramps. I smiled at my customer. “Just a moment, please.” I turned back to Mason. “Where were we?” Mason leaned across the counter and kissed me. “You like?” he asked, already clearly knowing I loved it. I loved him in everything. Or nothing. The same customer, an irksome woman in a bright pink sweater, cleared her throat impatiently. “Kayla, get off prep and help the customers for a little bit,” I said, taking the kerchief I used as a hairnet off my head. “I’m going to the office with Mason.” “Got it, Roy,” Kayla said as she swooped in to help the customers. I ducked under the opening in the counter (rather than opening it) and followed Mason to our office. Once the door was closed behind us, I turned around to undo my drawstring. “Again?” He asked, stopping my hands from untying my pants. “Three times last night wasn’t enough?” He smirked with sexual tension as he walked over to the other side of the office, putting space between us. Our sexual dynamic was part of what I loved about him. He preferred to bottom, I preferred to top. I was usually the aggressor, and he usually gave the green light. But he said no just enough to keep me simmering like a teapot, and initiated just often enough to keep me on my toes. I couldn’t help that I was blessed with a high libido and an 8-inch dick. Mason himself had a lovely 6 inches and had, in my experience, a higher than average sex drive. It just was a little lower than mine. Since sex was a no-go, I’d settle for some above the clothes fun. I slinked towards him, ready to practically leap on him—a dangerous prospect as I easily outweighed him by more than 50 pounds, all of it muscle—but he stopped me again. “You’re covered in flour and god knows what else, and this is a new suit,” he warned. Then, realizing he wanted his lips pressed against mine, he added, “Proceed with caution.” I walked over to him slowly and kissed him tenderly. I wanted to throw my firm, large arms around him and cradle him against my proud chest, but I restrained myself. Mason moaned in delight. As the kiss neared its end, I slapped him firmly but playfully on the ass, and a cloud of particles erupted from the impact. I grinned widely, but he spun around trying to look at his own ass, his recent anxiety threatening to surface again. “Damn it, Roy,” he said, laughing. “Did it leave a mark?” He looked at me the way one would look at a cute puppy that had peed on the rug. There was a white outline of my meaty hand on his tiny ass, and I said, “Looks perfect to me.” “Really?” he asked. “I’m meeting your grandfather in an hour, and I want to look my best.” I kissed him again quickly and then said, “Gramps will love you because I love you.” Mason tensed a little. “I wish I were so certain, Roy. The man raised you all by himself. You call him every day. It’s weird, but sweet.” “It’s not weird,” I said, a little defensively. I knew it was weird, though. Everything about Gramps was weird. But, like me, he kept all of the true weirdness a deep secret. All of our weirdness. Mason implying that the nurturing, caring, intense bond between Gramps and me was weird… Well, if he knew Gramps as well as I did, those qualities wouldn’t even make his list. “It’s kinda weird,” Mason said. “You blow him kisses goodbye over the phone.” “He’s my Gramps,” I replied, unsure how that was weird. Reassuringly, he added, “It’s more sweet than weird. If you weren’t a little weird, I wouldn’t be drawn to you. Weird but sweet is my favorite quality in a man.” I blushed a little. Mason continued, “Your grandfather is your entire family. You’ve told me as much, and I listen.” Mason began lecturing me to prove how much he listened, counting off important points on his fingers. “You have no brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles. Your father was out of the picture before you were born, your mother died of kidney disease before your first birthday, and your grandmother died of a heart attack when you were three.” He stopped counting and threw his hands in the air. “Honey, I’m not just meeting your grandfather. I’m meeting your entire family at once. I’m allowed to be a little nervous.” With a kindness in my tone, I said, “I’m just not used to seeing this color on you.” “He’s never shown the slightest interest in meeting me, and we’ve invited him down eight or nine times this past year. I mean, you’ve visited my folks five times already, and I’ve never even spoken with your grandfather over the phone. Then, you tell him you’re getting married, and he drives seven hours the very next day because, all of a sudden, he has to meet me? That bodes poorly. I should’ve met with him before I proposed to you.” I threw a confused look at him. “To what? Get his permission? Barter for my dowry?” “Don’t mock me.” “I’m not. Gramps was excited when I told him we’re getting married. He’s about to take that two-month cruise for his 81st birthday.” That was a lie. There was no cruise, but Gramps would be busy for two months, and it would take too much explaining to tell the truth. “That’s the only reason he wants to meet you so fast. Relax.” “You could take your own advice,” Mason chided. “You’ve been an over-eager little boy since he said he was visiting.” “Over-eager?” “I know every inch of your body.” Mason prodded my chest. “Your pecs are pumped, mister. You went to the gym this morning. Think I wouldn’t notice?” “I go to the gym five days a week.” “Yeah,” Mason said. “In the afternoons. Mornings are busy for bakers, you leave your evenings free for me, and you go to bed every night at 8. So, all you have left are afternoons. You wanted to look your biggest to impress him, and you wanted to have your whole afternoon free to play with him.” I was guilty as charged. Mason added, “Even though he said he was only coming for lunch, you cleared your whole afternoon.” “What’s your point?” I asked. Matter-of-factly, as if delivering the verdict of a trial, he said, “This is a big deal to you too. Therefore, it has to go perfectly.” “It will go perfectly because you’re perfect. All’s good with Gramps.” Mason paced a little. “That’s another thing. What do I call him?” “Whatever you want. Gramps is chill.” “You’ve only ever called him Gramps. Is that what I should call him? Or do I call him sir? Or Mr. Whitaker?” “Why would you call him that?” I asked with a slight laugh. “My last name is Whitaker. Not his. His last name is Morrow.” Mason stopped pacing. “Should I call him Mr. Morrow, then? What’s his first name?” “Lucian,” a grizzled voice came from the office door as it opened. “My name is Lucian Morrow.”
  6. PosingP

    After Work Workout

    Hi Everyone.... long time lurker, first time posting a story.... please go easy on me as I'm dyslexic! This one is probably a one off but I have some ideas for some other stories. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________ After the first day at a new job, I walk into my flat and look around for my gym gear, catching my tired slender reflection in my bedroom mirror. I’m tempted to skip my workout but I had promised myself I will get in shape this time; my new job means I have more free time now. The new flat means I have access to a gym. I know I have no excuse for not following my dream of finally getting fit. Well, I dreamed of, and have wanked over, the idea of being a bodybuilder, but with my genetics, that’s never going to happen, but if I could get some form of muscle and show a bit of definition, that would be nice. Unfortunately, my workout gear is all at the bottom of my washing basket from when I last managed to squeeze in a run. I fish around the back of my wardrobe for the random lycra outfit I had ordered online a few months ago. It was super cheap from a small website I’d never heard of before. The two-piece suit was two-tone blue and black, sadly the small size suit was baggy on my petite frame, and when I put it on, it had lots of wrinkles. It didn’t matter if it didn’t fit me though, nobody was going to see it. I was going to the gym in my apartment complex. It was small but surprisingly well stocked with weights. The few times I had walked past it whilst moving in it was empty. Nobody seemed to use it. This suited me as a small quiet gym was fine by me. I was determined to do a full-body workout; I had time to kill this evening, and given that I was just starting out, I thought I’d go through and practice my form on main compound exercises I’d learnt about; I may not have had time to train in the past, but I’ve spent far too many evenings enjoying youtube videos of muscle studs working out and giving training advice whilst all sweaty and shirtless. After a quick warmup, I look at my slender reflection in the mirror with the lycra suit hanging off me. I shake the idea of the fantasy of being a big beefy guy filling this suit and head to the squat rack. Putting on my headphones, I lift the unweighted bar, focusing on form, paying attention to each rep, trying to get 5-8 reps in a per set but concentrating on my body position and tensing and activating the right muscles. I add on some weight and start the next set, quickly getting in a rhythm and lose my mind to ‘the zone’, each set, I would up the weight ready for the next set then return to the focus on my form. I wasn’t paying attention to how much weight I was adding to the bar and going again. I’m just focused, in a trance, squatting down and bringing the bar up. I don’t notice the gradual reduction in wrinkles in the lycra suit. I finally feel my legs fatigued, only just managing to get the bar back on the rack. I unload the bar (not noticing how many plates I take off) and move onto the shoulder press. The wrinkles in my lycra suit are mostly gone, and around my legs, it’s started to pull tight; I’ve not noticed though, I’m too busy lifting the bar and creating my slow controlled reps. All the time, my shoulders broadening and rounding, pushing against the lycra, not that I notice, I’m just doing this rep of this set… but which set is it? I’ve lost count… I found that manageable, so I better add some more weight and go again. Time passes; after moving onto the bench press, I pause to fill up my water bottle, ignoring the round pecs slowly expanding and pushing against my shirt, not noticing the crease forming from my overhanging balls of muscle. Nor have I noticed my arms starting to fill out the sleeves. No, it’s time for deadlifts. Loading up the bar, then tensing my core getting ready to lift and thrust forward, concentrating on the squeeze, not noticing my back rounding and widening, traps and shoulders pulling the fabric of the lycra. As I stand up with each rep my core starts to push on the fabric, first as a small block pushing against it, and then, with each rep slowly starting to divide, first down the middle, then highlighting each individual ab. As I squeeze my butt at the top of each rep, it gets a little making it rounder, plumper, firmer; the lycra leggings start to conform to the dimples forming on each side, and yet I keep ongoing ignorant of the changes my body is going through. It’s only when I have to pause mid-way through a set to adjust my feet position as my quads are pressing against each other that I realise, “Fuck my quads are pushing against each other! I gasp as l look down and see that the lycra tight over my body, contouring muscles that any fitness model would be happy with. My cock instantly hardens, growing down the side of my thick leg, pressing against my lycra suit as I take in my muscles. I glance over at the mirror, and I’m tempted to go and look: I’ve heard of a pump during a workout, but this is impossible! However, overpowering my sudden hornyenss and desire to examine my body is the desire to work out: I said I would do a full-body workout: I need to keep on lifting! I go back to lifting, but I’m now aware, I can feel my muscles swelling up and getting more pumped with every rep. My now ripped physique strains against my tight suit. I ignore the strain of my hard cock in my pants, pulsing bigger and harder, pushing forward as my balls and legs grow with each rep, forcing it against the tense fabric. I try to force the thought of how much I’ve grown out of my mind, my impossible new body, and focus on lifting… after all, if I carry on lifting, I’ll grow more! I get on with my workout, each rep making me grow bigger, more defined. I try not to see my biceps swelling, my chest pushing against the lycra, the definition in my arms and legs showing through the straining lycra. Eventually, whilst doing a second round of bench presses, the suit can contain me no more. The lycra rips, pulled apart by my broad back, and as it does, I feel a wave of pleasure mixed with fatigue roll over my body, and I know the growth has stopped. I stop my exercise and walk over to the mirror, lycra tearing as it glides over my solid muscle. Reflected back in the mirror is a beast, as big as any picture of any bodybuilder I have ever jerked over. “FUCK YEAH” is all I can roar as I tense my chest; the lycra top explodes of my body. Seeing my pecs stand to attention as a shelf of glistening muscle, my deep abs and round shoulders cause my cock to go into overdrive, and it tears out of the ripped leggings. Now a foot and a half long and as thick as a beer can. I grab it with both hands and start stroking my thick pulsing meat, dripping with precum, flexing my body as I go. I tense my tree trunk legs pulsing with veins and bounce my pecs, watching the striations ripple. Grunting, I lick my sweaty hard bicep peak of my 22-inch arms, feeling the veins pulse under the paper-thin skin as I carry on jerking with my other hand. The feeling grows, both from the power I feel from my size and strength and all the new nerves from my massive cock. The sensation builds up to ecstasy, and I can’t take it anymore rock-hard cock pulses; I moan with pleasure and cum. Squirting warm white liquid over my abs, chest, up into my face and with my mouth open to swallow the hot, warm liquid. As the orgasmic pulses subside, I collapse on the floor. The pump my muscles feel starts to subside, my body returning to where it was, almost, as I clear up and wrap a gym towel around me, I admire the little bit more definition of my body than earlier. I notice that my cock and balls press against my towel more than they usually would be. I saunter back to my room from the gym to put in a bulk order for those lycra suits. I’m going to buy the size XL and am already looking forward to tomorrow’s workout.
  7. LJackson

    MaxandharryandmaX: A serial (?)

    Okay, here's the start of something new. Let me know if you want me to carry on! What you need to understand is that Harry and I had been friends all our lives, or nearly. When we were in playgroup, I chewed on his toy car. When we went to school together, we taught one another to read. If a teacher asked me what my name was, I’d say: “Max and Harry.” For years, right up till we went to university, people would call us Maxandharry or Harryandmax. Even at Uni, him studying Biological Sciences and me doing Business Studies, we texted nearly every day. For a while, after celebrating our Friendversary, we even changed our Faceboook names to MaxandharryandharryandmaX, till he pointed out it looked a bit gay. I felt a bit sad changing it, but my girlfriend of the time told me he was right. In the years since then, of course, we drifted apart a bit. We were both in London but we would only meet for a drink every couple of months. I guess he slowly started noticing a change in me about summer 2019 when I had made a special effort to get #BeachBodyReady. ‘Shit, mate, you really do have a gym membership, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When are Men’s Health ringing you for a cover feature?’ I was in a short sleeved shirt and I was feeling pretty good about myself back then, but still I knew he was talking shit. ‘Bro, have you seen the guys on Love Island? All I’ve done so far is lose a bit weight really.’ ‘Impressive though,’ he said, sinking the last of his pint. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’ ‘Well, I reckon Niamh would think so,’ he said. I cuffed his shoulder. ‘She’s not superficial like other ho’s,’ I said. ‘Girls like that sort of thing, though,’ he said. He looked down at himself. ‘They can’t help themselves.’ ‘They like to see we’re taking care of ourselves,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, you’re far from overweight, dude.’ ‘Underweight, if anything,’ he said. ‘I do my heavy lifting with this.’ He tapped his brow, and we both laughed. ‘Mind you don’t go impairing it with two many hipster beers, then,’ I said, getting up to fetch another round. ‘If you promise not to go crazy with this gym stuff,’ he said. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ But I knew he was wrong. By the time we met to toast Christmas, he couldn’t resist squeezing my arm. ‘Holy shit!’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought you just had a big jumper on under that coat. You’re huge!’ ‘Not as big as I’d like,’ I couldn’t help saying, blushing. ‘Still a way to go.’ ‘What do you weight though…?’ ‘About 70kg,’ I said, automatically. ‘Roughly 150lbs.’ ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘I didn’t expect you to actually know. You must be taking this seriously.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s fun too.’ ‘Bet you’re not drinking tonight.’ ‘Maybe just the one. My body fat’s down to 7%.’ I sipped my orange juice. ‘It feels great, though. I’m so alive, so capable. And, bro, let me tell you, the girls are hanging round me like flies around shit.’ God, it felt good.. Harry didn’t seem to feel so, though. ‘Mate, I didn’t need to have another reason to feel inferior,’ he sighed. His mouth was proper down-turned. ‘Niamh,’ I said, testingly. He nodded glumly. ‘I wasn't enough for her, it seems.’ ‘You were too good for her, anyway,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure how true it was. There he sat, a weedy little guy with glasses, maybe half my size. He couldn’t have lifted a weight above his head, let alone bench-pressed what I was doing. He looked pretty pathetic. ‘Maybe you should join my gym. Just to cheer yourself up.’ ‘Can’t think of anything worse,’ he said. ‘Come off it, mate,’ I said. ‘Build a bit of muscle and you’ll feel amazing. Imagine if Niamh sees you on the beach next summer with your shirt off, biceps bulging, pecs rippling…’ I tailed off, thinking how ridiculous this sounded. Even if I could persuade him to take some exercise, I thought, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to take his shirt off on camera. He was still as lean and hairless as when we both set off for University. I wondered, was I naturally superior to him? Niamh would certainly have picked me over him for a mate: law of the jungle. I’ve have shown her a better time, as well. I didn’t like to think how embarrassing Harry must have been in bed. I shook my head to clear it. Harry had been talking to me and all the time I’d been thinking about banging his girlfriend, cucking him in his own bed. Crazy thinking. I interrupted him: ‘I don’t want to hear any shit, mate, you’re coming with me to the gym tomorrow and that’s that.’ He sat back in surprise, held up his hands. ‘Fine. Fine!’ There was a long pause. Finally he laughed and got up to go to the bar. ‘Better get a round in while I’m still allowed, then!’ ‘Skip the crisps this time, okay,’ I laughed back. ‘2020’s going to be your year.’ And to be fair to him, he turned up. He obeyed me, as if I was in control of him. He did the exercises I told him to do. He changed his diet. It became quite fun, turning up to see him at the gym – maybe not as often as I would be there, but at least a couple of times a week. He didn’t enjoy it but he worked hard. At the end of January, he had actually lost a bit of weight – but sadly, he hadn’t put on a single shred of muscle. We stood looking at one another in the mirror. ‘I can’t fucking believe it,’ he said. ‘I’m actually smaller than before.’ ‘I’ve just grown bigger,’ I said, ‘that’s all, mate.’ ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Yes, you’re bigger but look at me. I’m a shrimp. Nobody would guess we were the same age.’ ‘You’re a week younger,’ I told him, shrugging off my sweaty vest. ‘Maybe you’ll always be…’ Again, I didn’t want to say the truth. ‘What?’ he demanded. ‘What were you going to say? Weaker? Smaller? Inferior?’ ‘But only to me,’ I told him. ‘You might put on some muscle by summer. You won’t be strong but you’ll be fit.’ ‘That’s really what you think of me,’ he said, eyes wide. Furious. He looked like he wanted to pick a fight with me, but something rational was stopping him. He’d be mullered in a second. Instead, he ran away. Just grabbed his bag and stormed out. I should have run after him, but I was meeting this girl for dinner. He had told me on Tinder that she wanted me to fuck her like an animal, and I was still wondering how best to do that. I was too distracted. That was half my trouble. MaxandharryandharryandmaX was in trouble for the first time in history. An unshakeable bond, broken by the gym. Or maybe more, I thought. Maybe by masculinity and testosterone. Maybe by alpha male power. It could never be equal again now that I had begun to dominate. February slipped past, and I thought about him every day. I dreamt about him. I dreamt he was watching while I effortlessly fucked Niamh. I was pumped and bigger than ever while I worked at her tight snatch, and he got smaller while he watched me. In March, I finally sent him a message. ‘Miss lifting weights with you. Miss lifting pints even more.’ He replied almost straight away. ‘Maybe we should resume one of those activities. Guess which one.’ ‘Gym’s open longer hours,’ I replied, with a emoji to show I wasn’t serious. ‘Mate,’ he texted back, ‘I wouldn’t go there right now.’ ‘Why?’ I asked, expecting a joke. And so, Harry was the first person to tell me about coronavirus. I thought it was just him making an excuse about not exercising. I don’t follow the news, don’t really do social media; in fact, I was pretty buried in work and working out. I suppose, I also didn’t want it to be true. I was in full denial. And so, inevitably, I caught it. I’m strong. I’m healthy. I don’t even take roids, so no strain on my heart. So I guess I was well prepared for it. Even so, it knocked me out for longer than I expected. Those were some crazy weeks. Maybe the weeks that followed were even stranger. Apart from work, Harry was the main person I was in contact with during lockdown. At first we talked a bit about fitness: my gym had closed. I tried to buy gym equipment online, but there was none available. ‘I must have got the last set,’ Harry told me. He told me it was the one good thing in his life now. It was hard for him - he was still so weak - so I sent him tips over email, links to videos and online advice. He asked me questions about diets and supplements and steroids. I told him to do it all clean, which disappointed him, being the biology scientist – he wanted to make himself into his own experiment. But it was a good thing. It was like we were the same person after all, just slightly out of phase. Except I couldn’t work out, not properly. I did some bodyweight stuff and started running. The muscle just melted away. I ended up looking as lean as a stick of celery. ‘You’re going to end up as my trainer,’ he said, when we talked about it. I didn’t like that. What if he caught me up? So we didn’t talk about it. And the lockdown rolled by. The lockdown was raised. Life began to return to normal. It was September when we arranged to meet again. A few drinks in the same old pub we used to frequent – but first, we would work out together, side by side. It struck me, as I walked towards the bench press: we were equals at last. MaxandharryandharryandmaX had been brought closer together by the quarantine. We had both realised something: his innate power, my humility. At last, we would be best friends once again. The only problem was, he didn’t appear to have showed up. The gym was pretty much empty, and the only person hanging around our agreed meeting spot was a big guy. Proper monster. Shaved head. Lats out to here, waist in here, a real triangle. He looked nearly a foot taller than me and I was worried for a second. In an empty gym, it’s pretty bad etiquette to stand waiting for a piece of equipment. I didn’t want him to think I was trying anything on; he could have ripped me apart. He turned around and the light glinted off his glasses. He smiled. ‘Hey, Max, you made it!’ ‘Harry?!’ I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a wind-up. He opened his arms inviting me for a hug. Each arm was as big as both of mine put together. The muscle was thick and pumped as if he had just completed a workout, not spent months in quarantine. ‘Harry,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘This is insane. You’re a fucking beast.’ ‘I used the lockdown well,’ he said seriously. His voice had grown deeper. It was like talking to a different man with my friend’s face, one who towered over me. ‘All this came from working out?’ ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I see you went the other way.’ I looked down at myself, blushing. ‘Yes, I’m pretty small these days.’ ‘How big were you before the lockdown?’ he asked me. ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should –’ ‘Cut the crap,’ he said. ‘I asked you a question.’ ‘About 75kg,’ I told him. ‘165lbs.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You used to seem so big,’ he said. He ran his hands over the huge globes of his chest and the hard, thick ripples of his abdominals, lightly brushing his fingers across the giant vascular boulders of his biceps and the vast shoulder-muscles that framed his firm chin. ‘I’m about 270lbs. 125kg.’ ‘It’s not possible,’ I said. ‘Feel it,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll know how possible it is.’ I laughed and held up my hands. ‘That’s fine, I’ll believe you.’ ‘What is the problem with you?’ he said. He didn’t raise his voice but the authority was clear. ‘I told you to feel it, you little bitch.’ ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. He shook his head for a second. ‘Sorry, bro. It’s the testosterone. Sometimes I lose control. I mean, it’s true that you’re little. And you’re being a bitch.’ He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’ ‘Will it help you if I – if I feel your muscle?’ I said, putting my hands on his physique. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I’m like a loaded gun nowadays.’ ‘More like a cannon,’ I said, feeling his might. ‘The Incredible Hulk has nothing on you. So you went for the steroids after all?’ ‘No way, you little cunt,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Max. But no – not steroids, exactly. I did some research. With some friends online. Other biology academics into weightlifting. I was looking for short cuts, and they were looking for ways to build size and strength. I think between us we tapped into something that did both. Workouts combined with certain hormones and particular herbs. It’s all perfectly safe, just a few side-effects.’ ‘Like the anger management issues,’ I suggested. ‘And all this fur.’ I ran a hand through the pelt on his monstrous chest. ‘You really are becoming a beast.’ ‘Fuck!’ he gasped. ‘You touched it! I should have warned you – but I thought it would sound gay.’ ‘Touched what?’ I snatched my hand away but he caught it in a giant fist. ‘You touched my nipple. Fucking sensitive nowadays.’ ‘So what – what does that mean?’ ‘It means,’ he said, ‘either I need to fuck a woman in the next ten minutes or…’ ‘Or what?’ Harry looked toward the changing room door. ‘Or, old friend, you’ll have to milk the cum from my big swinging balls…’ TO BE CONTINUED…
  8. TQuintA

    Lucky Me

    Author's note: Those familiar with my stories on this site know that I am prone to very long stories, dripping with dialogue, posted over the course of months. So, I gave myself a challenge: 5,000 words max, no direct dialogue, 24 hours to write the whole thing. It was a fun experiment. Let me know how you like the results. ============================================================ I only bought one fucking ticket. And I only did that because my boss was watching. The chances of me winning were astronomically small—no one ever won the big prizes. Ever. The ATL (Annual Transglobal Lottery) was supposed to be this big deal, a chance to win large sums of money, luxury items, designer vacations. You know, big lies to keep the humdrum workers humming with the thought that they might have a taste of the fabulous life. But in reality, in my 37 years of life, I’d never seen anyone win anything fancier than a bicycle. Sure, people always won the small prizes on the low tier—the gift cards, the restaurant vouchers. And who doesn’t have an ATL pencil in their desk? The middle tier prizes—the weekend getaways, $5,000 cash—you occasionally heard of people winning those on the news, but I’d never met them personally. The top tier prizes—a two-story dream home, a sports car, cancellation of all debt—those prizes always went unclaimed. With over 10 billion adults playing the fucking game, you’d think someone would occasionally luck out. A number of cynics like me were convinced the top tier prizes were fundamentally unwinnable. Which is why I stopped buying the fucking tickets. But my boss doesn’t like that. He sees people who aren’t playing the ATL as people who’ve lost faith in the system. And people who’ve lost faith in the system were always the first fired. So, when the ATL salesgirl came around, I was about to fob her off, but my boss was right there watching. So, I bought a ticket. I then told her that I’d bought two dozen the day before and I couldn’t afford more until my paycheck deposited. That was a lie she and my boss would believe. The tickets weren’t cheap, and they were only available for the seven days leading up to the drawings. And yet, people still drove themselves into deep debt buying hundreds of tickets. In fact, of the people who still played the ATL, the average number of tickets purchased was 50. Fucking 50! Most people could pay a month’s rent for that chunk of change. So, despite thinking the whole fucking thing was rigged—a fucking fairy tale to keep workers complacent—I fucking bought a fucking ticket. Then the fucking thing won. From the top fucking tier. Any other prize from the top tier would have changed my life in amazing ways. But with my luck, I won the one prize I couldn’t have hated more. I won the fantasy body makeover. As far as I was concerned, I already had the fantasy body—I was a cute little 100-pound, 5’4” hairless cherub of a man. I wasn’t even insecure about my 4-inch dick because how small I was really got my husband’s engine revving. Albert, my husband, was a brute of a man—6’5” with 220 pounds of dense, hairy muscle with a 10-inch cock. And that’s the way we liked it. He loved saying he was more than a foot taller than me, more than twice my weight, more than twice as hung. He worked hard to keep up his macho physique—his six pack was proof that the 220 pounds was all muscle. He went to the gym every fucking day. I also worked hard to maintain my petite measurements. Us short folk face the middle age spread too. When I won the makeover, I thought I could specify that I wanted to make myself even more diminutive for my man, but the makeover I won was preselected. It depended on the gender on my driver’s license. Women who won this prize in the drawing won the deluxe women’s makeover; men who won this prize the drawing won the deluxe men’s makeover. Interestingly, if I’d had my gender as any of the other approved genders, I would’ve just won the cash equivalent. Why couldn’t I have had one of those on my fucking ID? Albert and I could really have used the money. After an hour on the phone with the ATL reward people, I learned that the body mod industry had very specific ideas of what deluxe men wanted. At the end of the process, I would end up bigger than my husband—taller, more muscular, more hung. Likely, I’d also end up hairier and more ruggedly handsome. I wouldn’t accept that lying down. I had too many anger issues to do that. So, I fucking fought back. But everything I tried just fell through. There’s some fine print on these tickets that I never read. Some fun facts that I learned: 1. Once the drawing has begun, tickets are non-transferable. If you want to transfer your ticket before the drawing, you have to register the transfer with the ATL. This way, they said, no one could steal a winning ticket and declare it for themselves. With most of the prizes, you could just give it to someone after you won it, but there was no way of just giving Albert my growth. Upshot of this, I couldn’t just give the prize to my husband even though we both would have fucking loved that. 2. Prizes cannot be refused unless you can declare a bona fide exemption (such as a devout Hindu winning a voucher to a steakhouse). If I wanted to declare that my religion disallows body modification, I had to have a religious affiliation declared on my file (I have none), and then report that to the ATL prior to the drawings. Upshot of this, I have to take the prize, whether the fuck I want it or not. 3. If you try to pretend that you didn’t know your ticket won, you will be tracked down by the ATL so that they can inform you of your good luck. If you try to pretend that you threw away your ticket so you can’t claim your prize, they show you your receipt of purchase, quite loudly, and in quite a celebratory way. This way, people who missed the drawings will still get their prizes. That was a fucking uncomfortable lunch break—ATL people everywhere, some with tambourines. Upshot of this, I can’t just fucking ignore them. I tried to fight it further, but it just made things worse. I actually managed to get a decision-maker on the phone—a human decision-maker—and I insisted it should be my right as a winner to transfer my winnings or to refuse them outright. I even refrained from fucking swearing the whole call. He never considered someone actually refusing a top tier prize, and he was so upset that I was unhappy with my winnings that he decided to look into ways to compensate me appropriately. Two days later, an ATL computer called back. It apologized that I was unsatisfied with the rules of the ATL, so in their infinite generosity, they had reached a consensus that they would increase my winnings—also non-transferable, also irrefusable. Fighting it had actually gotten me upgraded to the ultra-deluxe men’s makeover. This is how I found myself at the body modification center, rolling up my sleeve so they could inject me with the nanites that would, over the course of six months, reprogram my body to grow into the masculine ideal that global corporate interests had decided for me. And I just had to fucking take it. At first, my growing muscles and stature motivated Albert to push himself even harder at the gym. In that first month, as I grew three inches in height, added 1.5 inches to my dick, and put on 35 pounds (almost entirely muscle), Albert, with chemical assistance, managed to pack on another 10 pounds of muscle. He started wearing lifts in his shoes to keep us a foot apart, and he was still practically twice my size in dick. My increased boost in testosterone came with an increased sex drive, which was fun for us. That first month, things felt manageable when I was home. Work was another story. Most of the people on my floor were there for the day of a thousand tambourines. But even if they weren’t, my win had made the global news. And even if they still somehow hadn’t gotten the memo, my clothes gave me away. Nothing fit me anymore. All of my work clothes were fucking tight, and my shins showed off in all my pants. The world looked different at 5’7”. I actually met some people’s eyes and was taller than some of the employees. All the guys on my floor were jealous, the boss included, but I felt like a badly dressed clown. As part of the makeover, I’d get free hairstyling for a year and a new wardrobe once I reached my full size, but as I was going through my second puberty, I was left to my own devices. I guess the people who can actually afford the ultra-deluxe package can afford a new fucking wardrobe every month. The first month groaned into the second. By the end of the second month, I was now 5’10”—just on the taller side of average. And at 7 inches, my cock was just on the larger side of average. And at 170 muscular pounds, my weight in pounds was squarely average, but I was ripped. I had never been a big fellow, and it seemed that with the weight I was adding, most of the weight was going into my muscles. I suppose some of it had to be going into bone mass and healthily functioning organs, but I was getting stacked. I was still eating like I was 60 pounds ago—the nanites apparently pulled in the necessary building blocks from the air and sunshine—so my overall body fat was the same it had been, but it looked very different with all this muscle there. I was now an above-average male. Albert had put up a good fight, but even with chemical assistance, he was only able to put on 5 pounds that second month. He was still 65 pounds more than me, but the gap was closing every day. And with the increase in my height and cock, he was less and less turned on every day. It was only then that I realized he was never turned on by my body—not really. He was turned on by his body, and my body's smallness made him feel even more superior. So, as my sex drive was becoming sex overdrive, Albert began spending more time impressing the twinks at the local bars with his chemically-pumped muscles and daddy dick, while I stayed home altering his old clothes into something vaguely resembling work clothes. If we could afford a divorce, our marriage wouldn’t have survived the second month. To work off all the fucking sexual energy, I began masturbating while staring at my body. My body was hot—I couldn’t deny that. But I would stare at the mirror and cover my face with a sheet, pretending it was somebody else’s body. I would watch his pecs hanging over his minuscule waist and taut six pack, the sweat glistening off the swollen mounds as his bicep flexed, his cock pistoned by his hand. This guy's cock was thick like a cock should be. And his muscles were made for fucking. Then I would climax and feel disgusted with myself. I didn’t want to look like this; I wanted to be fucked by someone who looked like this. By now, work was ridiculous. My fucking boss, seething with envy, started treating me like shit. When he wasn’t insulting me to my face, saying things like my brains had been sucked into my muscles, he was constantly writing me up for inappropriate work attire. On top of that, I started getting thankless grunt work. If he could’ve found a way to dock my pay, I’m sure he fucking would have. The third month brought more surprising changes. I had grown another three inches, so I was now over 6 feet—officially tall. If the world had looked different at 5’7”, it looked like a different planet at my new height. Very few people were taller than me anymore, and they cleared a path for me when I moved through space. At 205 pounds of cut muscle, I had finally steadily increased the amount of food I ate. If I tried to eat the way I wanted to—the way I used to—I would get lightheaded and pass out. It just takes more food to fuel this behemoth I was becoming. While they built me even more massive, there was only so much the nanites could do without more food. My cock was also officially huge at 8.5 inches. It was getting harder to hide how fucking big it was getting at work, even though I was now wearing some clothes Albert no longer fit into. Albert always wore his pants a bit too tight in the crotch, so they all had faded bits that showed his dick print. And those dick prints just highlighted my growing bulge. By this point, Albert had essentially moved out of the house with a pretty young thing. A small pretty young thing. I won’t pretend it didn’t break my heart, because it did, but my hours were too full of monotony to really feel anything other than numb. I spent so much more time just eating and altering clothes and masturbating. Oh, was I masturbating. Although, I couldn’t really call it that anymore. I was jacking off. The faceless stud in the mirror just swelled larger every day. The cleft between his pert pecs grew deeper as they rounded out and covered over with a fine dusting of hair. His arms looked flexed, even when they weren’t. When they were at his sides, they sometimes even fought his chest for space. His legs were also becoming an obsession of mine. His thighs were thicker and thicker every day. They were getting as thick as my waist had been only three months ago. I would feel the striations as I would flex, and the stud in the mirror’s thighs would blow out into large relief. I could also turn around and see the mirror-stud’s ass. It was so round and thick. As the third month ended, I realized why men like Albert like to fuck them. Asses are just so fuckable. At the end of the fourth month, I was 6’4”—almost Albert’s height. I had to shave every day—the hair came in fast and thick, hairier than Albert had ever dared dream. His clothes should have fit just fine, but I was more muscular than Albert had been at his biggest. His work clothes were painted onto me. My chest was bigger than his had ever been, so the top two buttons were always threatening to pop off, showing a peek of chest hair if I took a deep breath, and the shirt was starting to threaten at the sleeves and the shoulders. And my lats. People told me I looked even broader from the back. I had to take their word for it. With my growing traps, it was getting harder and harder to turn to look at the reflection of my back half. Even with all this new width, I had to tighten his belt one hole smaller. I used to think Albert’s midsection looked powerful—my six pack looked angry. When I flexed them, I looked like I could stop a bullet. My stomach was always hard and ridged, even unflexed, and if I turned to the left or the right, all of my ridges were apparent through my shirt. Albert's pants were also a paradox. My legs and ass were thick enough to compensate for the missing mass in the middle, but the cock in my pants—the cock that should have been the same size as Albert’s, was bigger. My soft cock was bigger than his soft cock. I could easily tell because I overfilled his dick print. I was thicker and longer flaccid. And I was definitely thicker when erect. It was getting harder to pretend the stud in the mirror wasn’t me while jacking off. I could feel the mass of my cock as I stroked it. Everything about me felt heavy and took up space. My arm constantly bounded off my pecs if I jacked off too furiously. I had to hold my mighty quads further and further apart to give room to my swollen eggs. One night, I decided to end the pretense and uncover my face in the mirror. I’d seen my face every day over these last four months—especially with all the extra fucking shaving I was doing. But it wasn’t until I looked at my face while jacking off that I realized how different I looked. How masculine. How severe. My thick brow furrowed in concentration, my face drawn tight with cheekbones and a jaw that exuded the effects of testosterone. The eyes were clearer and brighter, more alight with sexual fire. That was a stud’s face staring back at me. I came so hard when I realized I didn’t look like me anymore. But as soon as the blood was flowing properly to my brain, I realized how fucked up that was. I didn’t even fucking look like me anymore. By the end of month five, work was untenable. My cubicle looked like it belonged to a child, and it was getting hard to type. Not only were my mitts too massive for the tiny keyboard, but my biceps and pecs were in a constant war these days, which added to the difficulty of typing. Even outside my cubicle, the office shrank around me. At 6’7”, I was getting too huge for doorways. On top of all that, I was squeezed into Albert’s old clothes—and they didn’t even come close to fitting me. I was taller than him, so a row of my abs showed if I ever lifted my arms even slightly. And, I was 275 pounds—40 pounds more than Albert ever weighed. Even with my incredibly tight waist, the pants were getting too fucking tight around me. One day I sneezed, and the shirt split right down the middle, spraying buttons everywhere, and showing off my ponderous, hairy pecs to the whole office. The sight of those burgeoning glories started to stir my ever-present arousal. My soft cock was pornographically obscene—if I stiffened into my full 11.5 inches, I could destroy my pants too. My boss gave me vacation—well, unpaid leave—until I had reached a stable size. With all that time off, I just stared at every inch of my body naked in the mirror. I don’t know who that man in the mirror was anymore, but he didn’t even jack off anymore. He fucked his fist with his monster cock. His balls were so swollen with cum and manly juices that it took six orgasms to abate him, and even then, only for a few hours. I would gorge and fuck my fist and repeat the process. The sixth month was a haze of eating and fucking my fist. At the end of the sixth month, I was 6’10, 330 pounds of ripped furry muscle, and sported a 13-inch cock. My muscles and cock had tripled in size, and I was 18 inches taller than I started. My head was being swallowed by neck and trap muscles. My shoulders jutted out widely into infinity. I couldn’t look down past the shelf of my pecs, my biceps and lats forced my arms out into a widespread stance, my thighs were officially thicker than my waist—even my calves looked like flexed biceps in the mirror. I was naked all the time now, but I was never cold thanks to the healthy carpet I’d sprouted. I could see all six of my abs through the forest of hair, and my intense cum gutters. I'd occasionally peel myself away from worshipping my body to stare at my face. The beard I now sported in addition to the increased effects of testosterone on my face had me looking stunning. I understood why Narcissus fell in love with himself. The man in the mirror didn’t look like me, but he was a god. The sound of the front door closing took me out of my reverie. Albert will forever blame me for what happened, but it was his own fault for coming back to the house. He nearly fucking pissed himself when he saw me. He’d come back to officially move out. We still couldn’t afford the divorce, but we could afford an amicable, no-fault separation, and he figured I’d be more agreeable now that I’d stopped growing. I thundered over to him, my footsteps shaking the floor as my thighs forced their way around each other. I smiled, looking down on him. I was five inches taller than him and 100 pounds more massive. When I saw how much bigger than him I was, I finally understood his obsession with comparing himself to my once minuscule size, and my cock sprang to full attention, three inches longer than his could ever strive to be. I agreed to the no-fault separation, if I got to fuck him first. He did not like that condition, but I came in his ass three times. He felt so fucking tight and small. This man who had dominated me with his size felt so small in my hands. Albert left, and I immediately felt a little disgusted with myself. Inside, I was still me, but with all the hormones swimming through my amplified magnificence, I wasn’t sure who me was anymore. This new me was starting to act exactly like Albert had. I stayed in that state of naked introspection for two days, only breaking my shame spiral to occasionally eat or fuck my fist—animalistic actions that intensified the spiral. I also hated how much I liked this giant body I had. I wanted to return to my job, to some semblance of normalcy, but I couldn’t until the ATL board came to finish the makeover, so I was in a bind. For two days, they didn’t come. On day three, I called them. The six month timespan they’d quoted was only for the deluxe men’s makeover. The ultra-deluxe took an additional three months. When I asked what to expect, they were pleased to tell me that I could expect more. More height, more muscle, denser muscle, increased masculinity, and an even bigger cock. I was just going to keep growing more hung, and more massive, and bigger for three more months. Lucky me.
  9. Before I start, I wanted to say that I’ve never written a story like this before. Having been inspired by Maxxxmuscle’s comic Harvzilla. It is honestly like the hottest thing I think I have ever seen, and it’s getting better every time he releases a page. So without further ado, here we go! Chapter 1: Coming out It started like it would with any love story. Josh was in love with his life long best friend, but had no clue how to express his affections. It was painfully obvious for all but Parker who was oblivious to his best friend’s feelings. Parker had his own secret though... One which he had never shared with Josh. The two were madly in love with one another! Josh was actually quite a strapping young man. At 6’8 and 245lbs of pure muscle. He was what many teenage boys wished they could be. On top of that, Josh was every bit of a grower. Hidden behind his jeans, and boxer briefs lied a foot long by the likes nobody had ever seen. He often caught people ball gazing, but thought very little of it. Hell, he hardly cared if people drooled over him. Paired with the young Adonis’ killer body, Josh’s well known size was the source of rumor for many at Westwood University. Despite this fact, He had turned down everybody who made the attempt to try and date him. Josh had his eyes on one person, and he was mere minutes away from confessing to that person. Sitting at his Desk, Parker was in the middle of daydreaming again. He had just gotten through a painful Calculus lecture, and was eager to spend time with Josh later that night. The two had planned to see a movie at the local theater. But, what the two didn’t know, was the others plan to confess feelings. While not as physically gifted as Josh. Parker was by no means a slacker. Standing at a smaller but still impressive 6’4 and weighing 215lbs. Parker packed a smaller, but still impressive anaconda of 10 inches. Like Josh, Parker was popular among the girls and the guys, but would reject everyone who bothered to ask. Like Josh, Parker was still a virgin, and it was a surprising fact. Few people expected someone of such an impressive size to still be one. “Hey, I’m on my way my dorm room. Wanna come hang out for a bit before the movie?” Josh texted Parker. Parker looked down at his phone and grinned, he loved hanging out with Josh. It wasn’t even a question of if he wanted to or not. The answer was always yes, and Josh knew it. ”Of course, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Parker responded. Josh received the text as he unlocked the door to his room but not before an unknown package he failed to notice fell over. Upon inspecting the package he noticed it to be some kind of experimental protein powder. Wondering what it was, he closed the door to his dorm room and opened it up, Finding a red warning written in bold letters, he began to read the side effects of overdose. “Overuse of the experimental Hyperbulk powder can result in several side effects that include but aren’t limited to, Extreme muscle growth, increased height, penis growth, an increased sex drive, and infectious cum” “Infectious cum”? Josh thought to himself. What do they mean by infectious? Before Josh had time to contemplate the message, he was overcome by a sense of hunger. “Well, I already have it. Why not try out some of this stuff while I wait on Parker?” Josh had been opening the bottle and gathering the other ingredients for a shake. The substance didn’t include a scoop and he had never been one to use one. So he decided that half the smaller tin would be an appropriate amount. It was about the same amount he usually used when he made protein shakes anyway. Blending it to perfection, Josh was excited as he poured the shake into a cup for his consumption. He had made protein shakes a daily part of his routine, and sculpted his body over the years to near perfection. (Or so he thought) By the time he finished gulping the shake down, he heard a knock at his door. Parker was thirsty, as he had just ran 4 miles to get to Josh’s dorm. It occurred to him that he hadn’t really eaten anything either. He was always the book nerd compared to his best friend. Indeed, Josh often playfully teased Parker for being a math major while he was at college on a basketball scholarship. Despite the two being different in almost every single way, they had been friends since they were just four years old! Parker didn’t really recall a time without his best bud. “Yo dude! Woah- you’re drenched in sweat and panting,” Josh noticed as he opened the door and greeted Parker. “Yeah, well I hate to keep you waiting. Besides I need the exercise,” Parker replied Josh led Parker to his couch, and went to go make another shake. Using the remaining half of the tin without paying any particular attention to the serving size amounts. Josh blended the shake to perfection, and handed this one to Parker. “Try this stuff out,” Josh said as he handed the drink to Parker Parker didn’t have to be told twice, especially being as thirsty as he was now. He gulped the contents of the shake down, leaving no trace of it in the cup. “Thank you, that hit the spot,” Parker let out a small burp of approval. Josh smiled and giggled a little bit. “No problem man, I actually just got that stuff delivered today. It was a sample of some new protein powder they’re developing,” Josh went on, as he began to felt a strange heat in his gut. “Well thanks man, but I wanted to tell you something.. Before we go out tonight. It’s been weighing on my mind now for months,” Parker began, as he too felt a weird warmth emanating from his gut. Josh sat on the couch next to Parker, and listened to what his friend had to say. Josh always listened to Parker, and cared a lot about what his friend had to say. “Well you see...” Parker began, “I like you a lot.. I have for some time. Everybody always drools over you and your body, and while I admit that’s a bonus. I’ve always liked you for more than that Josh. You’re my best friend, and know me better than anyone else. I’m more comfortable around you than I am anyone else.” Parker had intended to continue, but not before being interrupted by a pair of firm yet soft lips on his own. “I’ve loved you ever since our Freshman year of Highschool. I feared telling you because I didn’t want to lose our friendship. But are you sure I’m really what you want?” Josh blushed, as he exposed his more insecure side. “Of course you are...,” Parker responded The two leaned in to kiss, both battling the others tongue in a display of hot fiery passion unlike anyone had ever seen. Their intense make out session would move to Josh’s bed where the two gradually stripped clothing and continued making out. The two would begin to lose track of time as their bodies continued to rub against each other. However, the warmth in their guts began to spread throughout their bodies. Changes were beginning, that the two had yet to realize. Even Bigger changes were about to happen. Perhaps bigger than the two of them could begin to comprehend. End of chapter 1 Thanks to all those who have taken the time to read my first post. Hopefully you all enjoy this as I continue to develop it. I’ll continue to work on improving my writing as the chapters go on. But please, let me know what you thought!
  10. Absman420

    THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO

    (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are again -- fifteen years later and I’m kicking out some sequel. Weirdly, I’ve had a Parasite story brewing in my head for years, but this Bizarro story found its way out instead. Not a long one, I promise -- five parts. I just enjoy playing with these characters. (Previously, in THE NEW SUPERMEN: Superman has left Earth, seeking his destiny among the stars. To protect the planet -- and the American Way -- Superman has selected 100 of the nation’s best police officers to take his place. Imbibing them with a serum to give them Kryptonian powers, plus a massive dose of solar radiation, these men transformed into hypermasculine superheroes. These “Super-Cops” were just adjusting to their new, super-powered bodies [and their inability to have sex with normal humans], when set upon by a plot to trap them through that very sexual weakness by Lex Luthor. Though nearly succumbing to Luthor’s manipulations, the Super-Cops ultimately foiled his plan. Now, nearly a year later, there is a feeling of normalcy and routine, even if the New Supermen had to make some sexual compromises.) Pt1 REMOTE UTAH The helicopter had been flying for an hour without seeing even the slightest hint of civilization. These remote locations had their advantages in terms of regulations and governmental oversight, but they were a gigantic pain in the ass to travel to. Finally, just as the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the mountains, the destination came in sight -- the LexCorp symbol obvious on the helipad. That Lex Luthor himself was here only indicated how close they were to success. He and his bodyguard were greeted at the helipad by the Chief Scientist, Dr. Teng, the windrush of the slowing heli-blades blowing his white lab jacket up like Marilyn Monroe on a subway grating. “Greetings, Mr. Luthor,” he shouted over the din. “We are honored to have you here -- we have shown much success in cloning…” “Yes, I know,” Luthor said bluntly, walking past the doctor toward the facility. “Take me to him.” The three entered the facility and immediately turned to a series of elevators. Had Teng not been the one with the ID card to summon the elevator, it would almost appear as if Luthor had no use for him at all. They plunged underground, deep enough that they felt their ears pop from the pressure change. Teng spent much of the time trying not to stare at Luthor’s beautiful female bodyguard, Mercy -- she spent much of the time trying to resist the urge to kick him in the balls. Finally, they arrived in the Sub-Basement Labs, easily a mile below the surface, the elevator sliding open silently. Teng motioned, “This way,” though Luthor already knew where he was going. There, in the center of the main lab, surrounded by cables and monitors and unidentifiable machines, was what could only be described as a huge glass tube, large enough to hold the overly-muscular male that floated inside it. “As you can see, Mr. Luthor, the clone is nearly ready.” The clone wore a breathing apparatus, so its face wasn’t clear, but the body more than gave away its genesis -- it was clearly a clone of Superman, the original Man of Steel -- regardless of the tight S-shield compression shirt and red speedo it wore. “And the triggers are in place?” Luthor asked, examining it. “The commands? Will it obey me?” Dr. Teng placed his hand almost affectionately on the tube. “Everything has gone according to plan, Mr. Luthor. The mental programming has been put in place. There is no reason to believe this clone won’t be completely under your control -- your own personal Superman. Now… to be fair… we haven’t run any tests since the… uh… virus was introduced…” Luthor looked at him quizzically. “Why would that make any difference?” Teng looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s an unexpected variable. As you can see, since it was introduced, the clone’s testicles have swollen to at least five times their normal size. We had to create special trunks that would fit them…” Mercy rolled her eyes at Teng’s awkwardness -- men put so much unnecessary importance on their genitals. Bigger balls meant a bigger target to kick as far as Mercy was concerned. “It’s fine, Teng,” Luthor said, glancing casually at the clone’s big gonads. “It’s all part of the virus.” “This is the most success we’ve ever had cloning Kryptonian DNA, sir. It seems a little far-reaching to unnecessarily add…” “Are you questioning me, Teng?” Luthor asked calmly -- Mercy seemed to stand even more at alert. “No, Sir!” Teng said a little too quickly. He knew what happened to people who fell on the bad side of Lex Luthor. “I simply counsel caution. We’re not even certain about the stability of the cloning process, much less…” “It’ll be fine,” Luthor said. “Even if he only kills one of them, it’ll have been worth the money. Release him.” “But, Sir, he’s only at fifty-percent -- he hasn’t been exposed to sufficient sunlight…” “RELEASE HIM!” Nervously, Dr. Teng went to the console. Before pressing the button, he shut his eyes and said a silent prayer -- even Luthor couldn’t control his thoughts -- all he could do now was hope for the best. He pressed the release button. As they watched the fluid drain from the tube, Luthor mumbled, “FInally -- a superman of my own…” He knew it was only a matter of time before they could clone a super-body to transfer Luthor’s MIND into -- then he’d personally settle the score. One step at a time. The tube raised, taking the breathing apparatus away with it, leaving the clone standing, semi-dazed as it came to consciousness, dressed only in the tiny, tight Superman shirt and stuffed red speedos. The clone looked pale, having never been exposed to sunlight -- it resembled an albino bodybuilder. It stood uncertainly on its feet, absorbing its surroundings, then looked down and noticed itself. It ran its hands over its muscular torso, flexing its biceps and smiling at their size. The process of self-discovery gave the clone an erection. “Horny,” it mumbled… and began to clumsily masturbate. Luthor moved to take control, standing before the clone with his arm held out before him in a “stop” motion -- easily a foot shorter than the behemoth, Luthor barely came to its pecs. “I am Lex Luthor,” he stated firmly. “Your creator. You will obey me!” The clone looked at Luthor with a semblance of recognition, smiling slightly, but making no move to stop playing with itself. “What’s wrong with it?” Luthor asked Teng. “Why isn’t it listening to me?” “It could be any number of things,” Teng said hastily, carefully walking toward Luthor but making sure to face the clone. “It could be the Kryptonian gene-stock -- it could be the virus you introduced…” “Horny…” “There’s so much we don’t know about Superman…” “SUPERMAN!” the clone cried -- and shot a load that nearly hit Luthor and Teng. The clone’s orgasm lasted nearly half-a-minute, going on and on. And the longer it lasted, the more the clone’s moans turned to giggles -- it was as if his intelligence, not his ejaculate, that was cumming out of his oversized balls. “Oh my dear Lord!” whispered Teng, stepping back. “What is happening? All I did was mention Superman…” “SUPERMAN!” the cloned cried. “ME WANT SUPERMAN! ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN!” “What…?” “Yes!” Luthor said, stepping toward the clone. “Superman. You fuck Superman!” “Mr. Luthor!” “Mercy, shut him up.” Before Teng could speak another word of protest, Mercy kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over -- she would’ve preferred her target to be his balls, but whatever. Teng collapsed, moaning quietly -- scientists rarely put up a fight -- curled up on the floor. Luthor remained focused on the clone. “You find Superman,” he said. “You fuck Superman.” “ME FUCK SUPERMAN!” “Yes!” “SOOO HORNY…” “So fuck Superman... stupid.” “YES! FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID!” Suddenly, the clone bucked his hips, orgasming again -- the front of his speedo soaking in his cum, dripping to his feet. His laughter was the giggle of a child. “FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID,” he laughed. “YES… ME MAKE SUPERMAN HORNY AND STUPID!” “Okay,” Luthor smiled. “Sure. Go and fuck Superman stupid.” “ME GO! ME GO FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID!” They stood there staring at each other, the clone with an empty grin as he gently stroked himself. “Go NOW…” Luthor said, nearly exasperated. “YES!” the clone said, as if having the idea was brilliant. “ME GO NOW!” And with that, the clone looked around and, seeing only the elevator, bound toward it with a speed that belied his size. Before Luthor could react, the clone ripped the elevator doors open with his super-strength and then began ascending the shaft by lifting himself hand-over-hand up the cable. They stood there in the silence of the lab for nearly a minute, listening to the clone work his way up the mile-long shaft -- he clearly hadn’t realized he could fly (or perhaps he hadn’t been powered up enough) -- then, from very high above them, they heard the groan of creaking metal, a loud, childish laugh, and then the wreck of the elevator car crashed into the opening. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile,” said Luthor, wryly. None of them laughed. NEXT PART
  11. tereshky

    The 12 Disciples

    The Twelve Disciples (I wrote this story as a thank you to the first 12 guys who liked my work enough to follow my profile. This is my last story of the month so I just wanted give you guys one last thing to read before I went on vacation!) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shawn was your typical college athlete, always looking for any kind of an edge. He was one of thirteen people on his swim team and, while he was really good, he consistently came in third in their meets. His frustration at never coming in first was overwhelming. It didn’t matter that he could have any girl he wanted or that his friends looked up to him like an idol. He wanted to be better than everyone. It was the end of August and a new swim season was about to begin. He was sharing his frustrations with an online friend late at night when they suggested an herbal supplement he’d never heard of before. Shawn went to the website and found it all pretty sketchy. The site was covered in obviously morphed photos and the company was operating out of some town in India that he’d never heard of before. But he was so desperate to win he’d try anything. When the package arrived he eagerly opened it up only to find that it contained one pill that said, “take with water.” “Jesus Christ… I spent $50 bucks for this!?” He groaned. He was so pissed he almost threw it away but he figured he might as well swallow it. So he gulped down the pill and chased it with a glass of water and then hopped into the shower. As he was soaping his body up he felt warm all over. His muscles started to tingle with a strange sensation and then suddenly his entire groin felt like it was melting in pleasure. He felt his cum splashed against his chest as he fell against the side of the shower in the most intense orgasm of his life. His muscles were begging to swell. He gripped his pecs and felt the meat getting thicker in his hands. “Fuuuuuck.” He closed his eyes as the sensations overwhelmed him. He shot load after load until his cum was spent and his cock was dry heaving. When he opened his eyes, his biceps looked like someone had added a baseball to their mass. His triceps flayed out more and his legs had crazy definition. “Shit that stuff really works!” He turned off the water and got out of the shower to check his body out in the mirror. He’d gained a good 20 lbs of muscle. He bounced his meatier pecs and smiled. “That shit’s out of this world!” Then he immediately went online and ordered another package. He was going to do a lot better this season. The second package arrived in a few days, just before their first day of practice. He was so excited he took it immediately even though his friend was hanging out in his dorm. Rami was from India. He and Shawn had known each other since freshman year. “What’s that stuff you’re taking?” Rami asked him. “It’s this great supplement I got from India. It’s amazing! Watch this!” He said pulling off his shirt as he gulped down the pill with a glass of water and waited. Shawn and Rami stood in front of the bathroom mirror for 20 minutes with no obvious effect. “What are we looking for?” Rami said. Shawn’s body looked amazing and he suspected this was some kind of joke his friend was using to show it off. “I’m going to start growing!” Shawn shouted, but nothing happened. “I’m bored with this, lets watch TV,” Rami said. The two watched Netflix for about an hour and still there was no sign of any new growth on Shawn. Eventually it was time for the first swim practice of the season. “Ugh… so disappointing. It happened so quick last time!” He said gathering his things. Rami got up to go. “You don’t have to leave man. I know you hate your room mate. You can just stay here while I’m out.” He said, pulling on his shirt and walking out of the room. Rami sat down and continued watching “The Crown”. Eventually he got up to go to the bathroom and nearly tripped over the packaging that the supplement came in. He picked up the packaging and looked at it. “Wow this is a really seedy company.” He thought to himself. The instructions were all printed out in Hindi. Where there were English translations they were written by hand. “Odd… they translated this wrong. That doesn’t say ‘take WITH water’ it says ‘take IN water’.” scratched his head wondering why on earth the instructions would say that. Then he read some of the untranslated section. “Allows the user to absorb water through skin… converts into muscle and genital growth… for safety do not expose yourself to more than fifty gallons at a time… holy shit!” Down at the pool Shawn’s phone was vibrating like crazy as Rami tried to call him ten times but his phone was in his pants pocket and his pants were shoved to the back of a locker. Shawn was walking out to the pool deck in a tight speedo. His team mates were complementing him on the weight he’d gained since last season. Shawn was feeling confident, the second pill had been a dud but at least he had something to show for his efforts. His slightly larger ass was bulging out of the sides of his speedo as he dived into the pool and began swimming laps. He had gone five laps when Rami burst through the doors and started shouting at him to get out of the pool but Shawn was swimming too hard and couldn’t hear. Suddenly Shawn’s entire body began to tingle again. His cock poked out from the top of his tight speedo as it became erect. “Fuck… not now...” Shawn thought as he gripped the one of the lane dividers and started shooting white clouds into the water. The swim coach shouted at him, wondering what he was doing but Shawn couldn’t respond, he was in too much pleasure as the water rushed into his skin and he began to bulk up. His shoulders looked like a rising volcano as his traps built up and his delts rounded out. His nipples were forced downward by the pounds of meat that were being added to his pecs. His cock continued to grow and thicken as clouds of white jizz erupted from it. His balls were swelling rapidly in his speedo until they popped out from either side, the size of tennis balls. His ass expanded until the speedo was jammed up in his crack like a thong before it snapped. By this time he’d captured the attention of his fellow teammates. To them his contorted face made it look like he was in incredible pain and they swam over into his cloud of cum filled water to see what was wrong. They touched his swelling body, unable to believe what they were seeing. “Bro… what the hell is going on!” One of them shouted as they crowded in to watch his biceps swell before their eyes and his back muscles develop a deep topography. He was getting taller too, his expanding feet were being pushed deeper into the pool, inch by inch. “Jesus man… should we get a… gnnnn” Another guy said. His skin was feeling tingly as the herbal infused cum began to soak into his skin. Shawn’s balls were still swelling, now the size of melons and thick clouds of jizz were floating all over the entire team. They had been so concerned for Shawn that they hadn’t seen what was happening in the cloudy water as their cocks all became rock hard. Suddenly they liked the sensation of their mostly naked bodies pressed against each other. They pressed in on each other more closely until their fit frames were rubbing the jizz into one another. Soon they were dry humping one another. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!” The couch shouted, seeing his team all blissfully groping one another. Shawn continued to grow until he could touch the bottom of the deep end, his cock was as wide as a two liter bottle. His balls floated to the top of the water like shipping buoys as gallons of cum spewed into the pool. As he bounced his pecs in pleasure it created a wave pool. His muscular ass grew the size of a bean bag chair. Rami and the coach just stared in slack jawed awe. Shawns abs split in a twelve pack and the the team was climbing all over him to feel it, starting to swell themselves. He was finally number one on this 13 person team. He was their muscle god and they were his 12 disciples, and they worshiped their leader as all the water in the pool was slowly turned to cum.
  12. For your reading pleasure. Thanks for being an awesome space. “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.” The thought runs through my head like a mantra as I climb the stairs. I find myself at the door to his loft before I realize I'm there. I clench my fingers into a fist in a final effort to steel myself and raise my hand to knock. The door rattles noisily as it slides open. His eyes widen in surprise at my hand in front of his face, still poised to rap on the door. “Whoa – that was quick. People don't usually make it up the four flights that fast.” I look at him and shrug, doing my best to act non-chalant. “What's wrong, out of breath?” He grins toothily at me and gestures to come in. “Not yet.” Well yes, but not from the stairs. Fucked if I was going to let on how he has me panting and terrified at the same time. Of course, he had answered the door in nothing but shorts. We were the same height at 5' 10”, probably even the same foot size, but everything else was different. He was clearly the bulkier one. His profile listed him at 175 but he looked a little bigger in person. He was carrying a little extra bulk from the winter but that did nothing to hide the thickly muscled core underneath. The dark hair dusted across his chest trailed down his abdomen thickening above those shorts that did everything to accentuate the reason we were here today. The fabric outlined the meaty shape of his dick so clearly, he had to be going commando. “This isn't going to be much fun if I'm the only one who's getting naked.” He slides the door shut behind me, audibly sliding the pin in to lock it. “I've got the heat cranked so we don't have to worry about any extra...shrinkage. Bathroom's to your left if you're shy to start.” I ditch my shoes and head left, closing the bathroom door most of the way behind me. I manage socks and pants first, only getting tangled in my own clothes once. I turn to face the mirror and start unbuttoning my shirt, getting halfway down before my hands start to tremble. Cursing inwardly I stare at my hands, willing them to stop while I slow my breathing to help focus. My head snaps up at the sound of wood creaking behind me. There he was, right arm raised and bent to brace himself in the doorway leading to his bedroom. I didn't even notice the other door in my distraction. He looks me over slowly, feet to head, finally making eye contact in the mirror and before approaching from behind. “Hey.” He turns me toward him and rests his forehead against mine. “Here..” He slowly grips my hands to steady them. Together, we finish undoing the buttons. He pulls the shirt off my arms, hanging it off a door handle. It was unexpectedly intimate and incredibly kind. “Do you forget how to undress yourself often?” His smile colour the words softer than they would have been. “Well, no, I just-” Fuck. The heat rising in my cheeks means I'm blushing, something I don't do often. I hate blushing. “I may be a little nervous. You?” “Terrified.” “But you're not even-” “Home turf advantage” I groan. So corny. “And we both know I'm going to win.” “Oh, yeah?” I step back from him then, raising my gaze defiantly. “You remember the rules, right?” He steps back and crosses his arms. I swear he's flexing to make sure I notice the taught balls of muscle that swell. “Oh I remember, all right. Looks like someone's been hitting the stair-master to draw out the inevitable as much as possible.” I preen at the comment. Once we decided to get together and compare in-person instead of online, I had upped my cardio and tightened my diet. I had meant to drop the weight for a while and this real life meeting gave me the extra inspiration to finally do it. I was a lean 152 pounds now, down from the 160 my profile listed. A simple run over my lower body with clippers meant things everything was trim and neat. My upper body was bare until a triangular stripe of dark blonde flaring down below the navel. I also have the sense to wear briefs that flatter my average endowment in the front and really show off the work I put into my ass. “ I just wanted to accentuate the difference as much as possible, you know?” I'm smiling now, finally finding the vibe that prompted us to agree to this in the first place. “It. Worked.” At that he drops his shorts and steps out from them, fondling his sack gently after he does. About four and a half inches flaccid, his ample cock is forced forward to drape over his thick, heavy sack. The balls are a quite a bit tighter against him than I'm used to seeing them on cam; maybe he was telling the truth about being nervous. I raise an eyebrow at him and hook my thumbs in the band of my briefs. Slowly drawing them down, I watch his eyes widen as the material cleared my soft cock. His lips part slightly and his breath hitches as I finish sliding them over my feet and stand up for him to appraise. I barely clear three inches soft. It looks bigger because I took the time to trim, but a quick glance down at himself re-affirms that, while I'm almost textbook average, he, quite clearly, is more. Hips forward, he takes an involuntary step toward me, ready to compare the two together. Blood is already starting to redirect itself toward his thickening member. I clear my throat and he steps back again, imploring me with his eyes. “The Rules, remember?” “But we could just-” he starts to protest. “Trust me?” He sighs and nods before turning around to lead me through his bedroom and back into the open space of the loft. The furniture is all moved to the sides and a large mat covers the empty floor. He has the shades drawn down so the neighbours won't be getting a free show. Every light is on, lending the space a garish arena-like feel. I make special note of the island counter that separates kitchen area from the rest of the space – it could be of special use later, depending on exactly how this night plays out. “Wow. Do I even want to know why you happen to have a wrestling mat this size? Where would you even keep this?” That gets a chuckle but he stops just past the bedroom door and gestures with his chin to the other side of the room. I pad past him to turn to face him, legs bent and ready to spring. “That's quite the bed you just led me by. Pretty big, even for you, isn't it.” I smirk to drive the barb home. “Custom-order.” His voice is a little rougher now. We're both almost ready for the chase. “Guess you need something custom to hold the gigantic fucking weight of your sack. I mean, really, are you even strong enough to lift that thing up when you have to take a piss? I think you might have to start doing some extra curls to handle it.” We're quickly heading full dark, no stars now; just our symbiotic kinks centred on his glorious endowment. He quickly rises to the bait. Literally. His cock rapidly approaches full mast, the skin stretching tight around the tip. It's so damn pretty. He glares and crouches down a bit to lunge at me. He gets a bit of a glazed look, clearly plotting what he's going to do if he fully wins. To win though, he has to catch and pin me first. His lip curl into a sneer and he bonafide growls at me,”I. Am going. To own. You.” “You bet your sweet fucking ass you are.” The words come out as a taunt, even though I'm already saluting his victory. It's on then. The temperature in the space rises noticeably as the chase begins. He isn't slow, but he doesn't stand a chance with all the cardio I've put in. Leg day is my favourite and, while I might not squat several hundred pounds, I have put in more than enough hours to add quite a bit of extra bounce to my step. I only have to outpace him for ten minutes for me to be the one to choose how I get to worship him tonight. I tease him through every sprint, every jump, every panting breath. He tries to banter back about my inadequacy but, really, we're here to 'talk' about him and we both know it. “Careful you don't throw out a hip with that thing!” “Awww, is your big thick dick slowing you down? Too much resistance keeping you from getting enough speed to catch me?” “Shut. Up. Pissant.” “Muffin.” Like that's going to happen. The rules specify he wants to know how big he is and for me to mock him about it. I'm not about to forfeit any time soon. The whole experience is like a football drill crossed with an intense zumba class all from somewhere in special-hell. We're both covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing hard from the constant exertion. He went flaccid right after the start – all the movement quickly solving any erection distraction problems that may have occurred. The flopping up, down, and side-to-side of his endowment could be comical if it wasn't so mesmerizing. We're closing on six minutes now – maybe I'm better at this than I thought? “Does any body else hear a helicopter? I swear I hear a helicopter....” Past eight minutes and approaching nine. The idea that I might call the shots is a little shocking. I had every expectation that I would lose. “What kind of host are you, leaving your mammoth cock out on the floor like that? Shouldn't that be draped on a couch before I trip on it or something?” And then 'or something' happens – kind of. I technically trip. There's a sensation of my foot connecting with something warm, soft, and heavy but when I look, there is nothing there. I tumble face-first to the mat, confused, and flip myself over onto my back. He's already there, looming over me with a face-splitting grin. He drops into full straddle and his splayed hand pushes hard on my chest, pinning me to the mat firmly. “Gotcha.” I squirm uselessly. “You have any other tricks to try or are you ready to call it?” I relax and then try a sudden lunge forward but he already anticipated that. He slams me back to the mat, this time pinning my shoulders down and keeping my legs from bracing against the floor for any leverage. I feel somewhat like a pretzel and seriously turned on. “You win.” He leaps to his feet instantly but with a hand extended to help me up as well. I gladly accept and the heady sensation of someone pulling me to my feet causes me to stumble against him. He catches me easily, holding my arms at my sides while keeping me flush against him. The heat of him is sublime, the aromas from our mutual exertion sending a lightning rod to my groin. We're the same height so it's awkward... for me. The weight of his larger equipment forces my struggling cock straight down. I try to wiggle out of his grip but he holds me still, mouth curled up in a slight smile. “Anything wrong?” “I can't, uh” “You can't what?” “I can't get it around....” “Oh? Does something have you pinned?” He's totally gloating. It makes me harder than I thought possible. “Hnnnhnn” “Maybe you need to do some curls.” “Dick curls? That's not a thing.” I was getting pretty desperate. “Bet you it is. What do you want to bet?” He sounds very confident, like he has a dick-curling-guideline page bookmarked on his laptop or something. “Or maybe we should make sure you stay the bigger man?” “I have no doubt about that. You ready for this?” “Fuck. Please?” I'm practically begging and he hears it. It's not like he's fully soft against me and he's starting to fill even more of the limited room down there. He finally lets me take the smallest step back, freeing my hard-on to spring up at it's full size, just brushing his skin. It's a pretty average five-and-a-half inches long and the same around. We both stare down as he expands freely between us now, his bigger rod gobbling up the new space. His bobbing cock knocks mine aside and under itself as he thickens and lengthens more, taking over the gap to accommodate its superiority. I can feel his slick tip straining against my skin - the sensation is sublime as his foreskin drags itself even wider around the head. “You might, mmmm, want to move back a bit. I'm not. Done. Yet.” He finally lets go of my arms and poses with them behind his head. His cock stretches inexorably toward me as it continues to increase in size. He has to be getting close to his full seven-and-a-half inches. He's wider than me as well and my smaller cock is totally eclipsed; I can only see it if I glance from the side. The moist tip makes contact with my pubic bone again and I can't help letting out a moan. I rock ever so slightly against it, sure that he's done but I'm wrong. It pulses back and widens just a bit more. I am absurdly close to cumming. “You were right about the Chase. I don't think I have ever been this hard. Your smart mouth might even make me harder than seven-and-a-half. What do think about that?” “Fuck. Me.” He smirks at that. Not like my response was unexpected. “If you're lucky. Guess I closed the gap...again. Fuck, just look at me.” And I do, of course. There is no denying my absolute worship as I take in the flexed frame of his arms, his heaving chest, the spectacular trail down his abs, and, finally, the monolithic main event pushing against me between his meaty quads. It's physically digging into my pelvis now, ever harder and precious like diamond. He flexes his hips just slightly against me and the unbelievable happens. I stumble back and fall on my ass. The view is godlike, looking up at him like this and I moan again. His eyes go glassy and wide with unbridled lust – he just knocked a person to the ground with the size and strength of his fucking manhood. His first volley catches us both by surprise. It launches over my head almost entirely, a little of the trailing end catches me on the cheek. My mouth reflexively opens wide in shock and anticipation. He grips his cock for the second volley – he has excellent aim and now I've presented him with with an obvious target. It splashes against my lips and into my open mouth. That's more than enough for me to release my own shot up at him. I spray against his legs a few times as he lets loose at me with the rest of what he's got. The third makes contact against my chin spilling upward into my mouth again. Number four and five paint my chest and torso. He pushes out a sixth load and soaks my balls and cock. Seven is finally a dribble but even that makes its way onto my left ankle and heel. “Wow.” He finally manages to pant out. “Yeah. Wow, alright.” I have to lick my lips and wipe my face clear before I'm able to reply. I slowly get to my feet and cup my softening dick in my hands. The smell of him is everywhere - I have never been so thoroughly and utterly marked. “Um, you need to get over here.” There's an edge of fear in his voice. “Hey, I'm right here.” I finish clearing what I can from my face as I come closer. “Good, 'cause you, uh, you need to see this....” He's still holding his hard cock firmly in one hand and it isn't softening. The head of it is pulsing, the skin drawn taught and engorged with blood. The pulsing isn't just that though. His dick swells more, inching it's way ever closer to me with each second. It broadens in his hand, forcing the fingers apart. He starts making a low keening sound in the back of his throat and his eyes begin to flutter like he's cumming again. I brace him by the shoulders as his cock spools out inhumanly between us – when is it going to stop? His body gives a final tremble and his eyes widen as he glances down. He now has more than twice the cock I do – it might be obscene if I wasn't so hard from it. He touches the tips of our cocks together and the size disparity is comically overwhelming. His face breaks out into the largest smile. “I don't know what you did, but thanks? Like the upgrade? Wanna touch it?” I barely get a finger on the fat, meaty shaft before I'm cumming again against his tip. It's more of a dribble this close to my last one but he takes the obvious appreciation in stride and pulls me for a hug. “I'll take that as a yes.” The hug is a little strange with his gigantic erection pressed up between us. It's only a momentary reprieve. We start to feel his dick pushing upward between us and rush to take a step apart. “Umm, you're not quite done yet?” And that's when I notice it. It isn't his cock getting bigger, it's him. His eyes have already risen so I'm looking just below them, then his nose comes into my line of sight, then my gaze falls to his mouth as he continues to grow, and then, at last the top of his chin fills my field of vision. I have to tilt my head back to see his eyes now. “Fuck. Yesssss.” He closes his eyes in bliss as his body starts to gain mass next. The winter bulk melts inward so his already significant muscle mass stands out sharper relief beneath a thinner layer of flesh. His traps rise up a bit and the delts round out significantly to cap his frame. His already ample chest broadens further and the serratus start to pop into view down the sides. The biceps swell into higher, broader peaks in balance to the horseshoe expansion of the triceps. His lats flare out deliciously down to the taper of his waist while his abdomen sculpts itself into a gorgeous six pack. His quads are even more corded now and the calves have a diamond pattern below the skin. The growth ebbs to a halt leaving him a comic-book super-porn version of the already attractive man he was. I reach out in wonder to turn him around but he tackles me to the floor without warning. He straddles me again, this time with his knees pinning down my shoulders. His new-and-improved mammoth tool finally softening directly in front of my face. “Kiss it.” Fuck did I want to. I close my eyes for what feels less than a second. Would that even be safe right now? What if he grew more, while on top of me? Would he just crush me into the floor? My panic must have been unmistakable because I hear his voice prompting me back to reality again, just like with the shirt before this began. “Hey, get out of your head. Open your eyes aaaaand, there you go. Not that tough, right? I don't think it'll bite. And really, you kissing my big dick is totally the kind of thing we've role-played online 500 times. Now there's just, more of it. So, here.” He leans down a bit to make it as easy as possible in my pinned state and my lips meet that gorgeous, swollen glans. The skin in scorching and salty. I tease the tip of it with my tongue milking out some remaining semen. He takes a sharp breath in and I feel his cock stretch into my mouth. He pulls back quickly and leans back on his haunches. “Easy there, I don't think we're ready for what might happen if you do that yet. You remember what I said earlier?” Huh?” I'm entranced by his heavy, pendulous endowment swaying with each movement. “Eyes up here.” He grips my jaw and moves my head so I look him in the face. “Who owns you?” “What?” This wasn't exactly my brightest moment. “I said, Who. Owns. You?” He's growling again. “You do. You won.” It was a theme we often used. My final submission to his superiority – thank fuck he wasn't an asshole. It seemed even more fitting now that he was, well, this new version of himself. “That's right, you're mine.” With that he leans back on his heels, grips my by the chest and stands up with me in his hands. “Hmm, that was easier than I thought.” “Easier than you....?” I limp over to the island to steady myself. “Did you even look at yourself to see what you look like?” “Not...really? It's not like there's a mirror in here or anything.” He's right of course, but shouldn't he have been able to see some of it? “Bathroom. Now.” I start toward the door without waiting to see if he follows. “Mmhmm?” “Stop weighing your junk from hand to hand like a slinky and come look at yourself.” “Yeah, but it's soooo heavy.” He shoots me the dopiest grin. “So's the rest of you.” “Is that a fat joke?” “Just get in here, you dork.” “Fine.” I hear his heavier footfalls approaching the door. He steps into the room and really looks at all of himself in the mirror. “Is that all me?” “Uh-huh.” “Holy fuck! Really?” “Well it sure as shit isn't me, so, yeah.” “That sass though. You sure that's such a great idea right now?” He flexes an arm into a curl in my direction, pitifully failing at a scowl. “Seriously? Get on your scale. We have to see this. Do you have a tape measure anywhere? Bedroom maybe?” He hustles to get on it, I have his full attention now with the numbers. “Right there, top drawer.” Of course he kept in his bathroom. I fish it out while he steps gingerly onto the scale. “I can't. Fuck. I'm...I'm 260 pounds....” “Mmmm. Sweet daddy fuckballs!” “Did you just say sweet daddy fuckballs?” “Shut. It. Stand straight against the wall.” He complies, silently for once. He's taller than I thought – this could be a bit of a challenge. “Need a stool?” He teases. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” I look around the room for something to make a mark with. “...Maybe.... I mean, I'm already this big so what's a bit more?” Bullseye! Tweezers would do to scratch the paint the tiniest bit. “Okay step out from the wall.” He hovers over me as I stretch the tape from the floor to my mark. I suck in an audible gasp. “Well, what is it?” I turn to look at him, shock and awe apparent. “Six feet, four inches.” His giant dick is coming to life now. “Holy fuck! That's like six inches more I was!” Up and out his member comes. Fuck that thing gets huge. “And 260 lbs.” Full on cock surge from him now. “That's like half a foot taller than you. And 110 pounds heavier.” He eyes me up and down, calculating something while he gently strokes himself harder. I am positive it will be something devious. I also don't fail to notice the switch from inches to feet to describe how much bigger he is than me. “I'm measuring that next, aren't I.” “Mmmhmm” He smirks and keeps stroking. I hold my breath as I do it. I don't think I would be able to stop fondling it if I were breathing normally. It was hot, thick, heavy, the skin blissfully silky to touch. Pulling the tape against it causes a final surge to its magnificent size. The flesh is unyielding as I wrap the tape around his giant fucking hard-on. It takes conscious effort to let out the breath I forget I was holding. I look up at him in full, mindless reverence. “You're 11 inches long and 7.8 inches around. I can't...I can't even....” He leans forward and grips my ass with his larger hand. Lifting me up onto my tip-toes so he doesn't have to lean down as much, he places his lips next to my ear to whisper. “I don't know what happened tonight but, you know what?” His voice is lower, throaty, indescribably sexy. I quiver at the sensation of the sound and breath against my ear. “Um, yes...no...I don't know?” Fuck. Words were not going well again. He was holding me so tight to himself that I felt the corners of his mouth raise into a smile. “I. Want. More.” I was so fucked. Was beyond so fucked because I knew what was coming next. “You want to help me get more, right?”
  13. Tattcub

    Priapus Pictures

    Hi All, This is a story that was inspired and given permission to play in by one of my fave authors Absman420 Anyway I hope you enjoy it Parts 1 to 5 Have fun TC I work for a guy named Saul Bennett. He’s sort of a modern-day porn maven. Lots of money, loads of girls and guys. No morals. I work for him because I have no choice. (more on this later) I don’t think anyone here does except maybe the guy who does all his hocus pocus for him. He’s one scary bastard. Here’s a story about one of the guys who got in his way. It wasn’t long after Saul had fired Mick Masterson, he had been a real top dollar star for Bennett till like all things Mick’s body had started to go south on him. Nothing major as the guy still had fans and his bod was still great just his age. That was Saul’s excuse anyway. I heard him say it was because he’d fallen in love with some guy, pretty bodybuilder type and Saul didn’t like split loyalties. Anyway, on with the story… James Fraser is or should I was an entertainment lawyer working out of west Hollywood. He was the guy who did contracts for studios big and small tying their actors up in red tape, so the studios got their monies worth. Except James was a rare type. He actually cared about his clients, so he had a specialisation that was more about helping the actors get out of their deals with the big sharks who own these studios. For example, his most recent case was against one Saul Bennett and his studio Priapus Pictures. This guy came to James about a contract he had signed some time back with Priapus and wanted out. His partner had just died and he just didn’t have the heart to carry on in the industry any more. Bennett refused to cancel his contract even though the guy was happy to pay any penalty fee for doing so. So, the client came to James and asked for representation “James, your 2-o clock is here.” Said his assistant Diane as James re-entered his office after his lunch with another client. “Thanks Di. “said the 33-year lawyer smiling as he took his jacket off and threw it over the chair in the outer room. He was a good-looking man standing about 5 ft 9 tall. He had dark hair cut short on the back and side and had twinkling green eyes that always seemed ready to smile. His taut athletic body was a good swimmers build from many hours in the pool at his apartment building and light gym three times a week. He was well liked by the entire company, always willing to help out and fight for any underdog cause that took his mind. He was a good man. He opened the door to his office and went in to greet his client Manuel Cortez. Manny to his friends. Manny stood and shook hands with him. “Hi James or is it Jim?” Said Manny smiling nervously as he stood to greet the lawyer. “Please, please sit and it’s James.” Said the lawyer smiling. “My dad was Jim or Big Jim as everyone called him.” Said James as he made himself comfortable at his desk and reached for the clients file. Manny nodded in acknowledgement and said ” So, any news on my case?” James looked at the last page on the file which contained a vitriolic letter from Bennett’s team about what Manny and James could do with their suit. It was pretty much a good luck and see you in court letter. James explained this to Manny and the he just sat there and hung his head. When he raised it again to look at James he had tears in his eyes. “I can’t do this James, not any more. The things that he gets us to do.” Said the crying man. “It’s not that I think they’re disgusting, it’s not that at all. I’m a gay man and gay sex and experimentation is fine. I’m even fine with gay does straight. It all pays the bills doesn’t it and I like the sex. It’s none of that. It’s the fact we have no choice about what scenes we do. I’m pretty easy going and my partner used to just say go with the flow as we were both earning well out of it. Now he’s gone I just don’t feel it any more. “Manny wiped a tear from his eye as he talked. “When I said he gives us no choice I meant it.” He paused for moment to catch his breath. “When we’re on set something seems to come over the cast. No of us ever seem to argue with the directors on set. Ever. Something’s going on and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I don’t want to be there. Since Rico died It’s like veil was lifted from me. We were a great duo, did loads of pics together and we loved doing them. We never questioned Saul’s methods because times were good and if I’m honest we were pretty high most of the time too. Saul provided all those sweeties too. Said he had his own alchemist as he called his dealer I think. I think there was more than dope and china in that mix because we all just toed the line you know ?” Finally stopping and taking a drink from his water glass. He looked over at James to see how he was reacting from his total honesty about this situation. James sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Are you saying that Bennett actually forced you all into sexual acts and drug taking ?” he said “No, it’s not like that it’s more that he gave this stuff away for free and we didn’t even think to object to any of it.” Said Manny. “It’s only now that I haven’t been on set in a couple of months that I am finally clear headed. There worst thing was I didn’t touch any of that shit to start with. I was so nervous in the beginning I could only drink water on set.” He finished. “Look, Manny this could be a criminal case too if Bennett can be proven to be a dealer or that he is somehow forcing you all to work against your wills.” He Stood up from his desk and closed the file. “I think I should meet Mr Saul Bennett for myself and see what’s going on at Priapus Pictures.” Manny stood too. “Look man, please be careful. This man is dangerous and has a lot of power in this town. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you for getting involved.” “Don’t worry about me Manny.” Said the lawyer reassuringly. “I’ve dealt with guys like this before. I have my own contacts in this town too.” They shook hands and Manuel left the office. Turning and nodding his thanks before he closed the door. James picked up his mobile and dialled his wife “Hi Hun, really sorry I think I’m going to be late home tonight. Yeah…. A new case…..Don’t worry I’ll send out for something. Okay…bye…Love you too. So James had a plan, of sorts. He needed to rattle this guy, to get him out in the open and to make a mistake somewhere. A mistake that he, James could capture and exploit. He picked up his phone again. He had just the guy he could use for this job. “Hey Max.” He said smiling. “I’ve got a job for you bro are you up for it?” He asked. “Ever heard of a guy called Saul Bennett? His company Priapus Pictures?” “Yeah, that’s him.” He said to his long-time friend Maxwell Calder. Max was a private detective and old friend of James’ from way back in their college days. “I need you to do me a favour. Do you still do undercover shit ? I know you still love that James Bond stuff.” Said James smiling as he remembered his friends first forays into the field as an eager much younger man. “Well, we should meet up and talk. Lunch tomorrow? At Deano’s ? Yeah..Haha…” He laughed at his friends “Where else?” Comment . “Okay buddy. Yup, about 1.30 ?” He hung up. James looked back at the file on his desk. He had a few other calls to make. Insurance was always a great idea in this town. L.A. was not forgiving on the careless or the over eager. He had a long night ahead. He picked up his phone once more and dialled. It took a moment or two to answer. “Mz D.” He said to the feminine voice that answered. “Good to speak to you.” “Why James. “Said the throaty voice at the other end of the line. “It has been a while. It could be said that you have been remiss in your attentions.” She chided gently. “Awww Mz D. You know you truly are the only woman for me.” Said James smiling as he reacquainted himself with the accent and manners of the lady on the line. One who also had very, singular talents. One’s that he, James felt were going to be needed sometime very soon. James sat back in his chair and turned to look out at the skyline onto L.A. and its sunset of promises, promises that all to often turned out to be smoke and mirrors. Well, maybe not this time. With any luck. “I need a favour sweet lady.” Said the lawyer. MAX. Maxwell Calder was a a private detective in Lala land. He looked at his file on Priapus and Bennett and wasn’t surprised by what he read there. He’d been through several of these joints in his years investigating Los Angeles seedier side. He was still young enough at 35 to still be open minded and old enough to not be surprised any more. He’d done his background checks with his various contacts and knew for damn sure that Bennett was dirty and had his fingers in many, many pies. Porn, mainstream and “other.” Every form of fornication and filth was bread and butter to this guy and he’d made a fortune from it. James and by extension Manny James’ client had warned him to be careful as Bennett was well known to be resourceful and unforgiving of betrayal. Max had decided to go in undercover on a low-level crew type security or roady type, etc. You know the drill, the polite escorting of over eager fans from sets etc or the occasional diverting of a loved one/ partner away from the stars dressing rooms when they were “resting” or otherwise engaged. Purgatory were big enough that they recruited regularly, and this industry was full of people trying to “break into the biz.” He managed to get himself on a crew doing general security for a new movie that had the working title of New Fish. This was a prison scene in a mock up studio version of a prison block. It was going to be one of those gang bang movies. Max wasn’t gay himself but the thought of seeing a room full of guys wasn’t totally his thing. However he was professional and had no issues with gay guys at all so it wasn’t a problem. He was due to start at the studio at 7am the next day in a studio lot in some warehouse district somewhere. Knowing what this Bennett was like meant Max wasn’t going to go in wired or carrying a camera. He just had a mobile phone that took good pics and also recorded sound a lot longer than most of the other phones of it’s type. He picked up the phone and called James. “Hey buddy, it’s me.” Said the detective. “Yeah, all sorted. Job starts tomorrow. Aha…Yeah low level security/go-fer sort of thing.” “Ha ha…Very funny. I did it for you in college didn’t I why wouldn’t I run around for others for the job ?” he said smiling at his friends comments on the line. “Listen, if we start this we have to see it through. This guy has power and contacts. You know how much that’s worth in L.A. don’t you?” warned Max. “Yeah, I will. You too James. Don’t expect to hear from me for a few days. Speak soon as I can.” He hung up the phone. He looked at himself in the mirror. In looks he had that almost faded Cali surfer look going on. Slightly longer than normal naturally blond hair and clear blue eyes. Gave the impression of blankness which was handy in his business as many people underestimated him. He could turn on the dumb if he wanted to but in this instance, he decided to be a man of few words. He got his gear packed and decided to hit the shower before his job started tomorrow. James had waited about 4 days before picking up the phone and calling Max’s number. As he had expected he got the answer phone. Max always used burner phones when he worked so his real one would be stashed elsewhere for now “Hey, buddy. Just checking in with you. I know you don’t like to break your cover but give me a call when you can. Just looking for a prog rep.” He put the phone back on the desk and started to work on the papers laid out in front of him. He just had a niggling feeling about this gig with Bennett, that it was going to be a lot bigger than he wanted. He leaned to the intercom. “Di could you bring in todays mail and a bottle of water please?” he asked his assistant. She came through the door moments later with a bundle in a tray and a bottle of cool water. “Here you go chief.” She said smiling. James smiled at her. Laughing and shaking his head. “Let me guess, you’re auditioning for a part later ?” he asked. “How did you guess? “ She smiled sassily as she handed him the mail. The top of which was crowned with a brown padded envelope. He took the bundle and the water. “Haha…I dunno, calling me chief was the clue. Reporter maybe?” he said looking up at her with raised eyebrows. “Wow you should have been the P.I. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours but will come back to finish off later if that’s okay ?” she said as she turned to the door. “No, no don’t worry about coming back. “ He told her. “It’s Friday you may as get your weekend on early.” She smiled as she turned. “Thanks chief.” And gave him a mock salute as she went back into the outer office. James looked down at the pile of mail. Looks like his weekend was not going to start early at all. His eyes were drawn to the envelope. It was hand written, badly by the look of it but it was familiar. It was also unstamped which meant it had been hand delivered too. He opened up the packet and found it contained two things. One was a cell phone and the other was a micro SD card. On the phone was stuck a note. PLAY US BOTH TOGETHER. He paused for a moment and looked out into the main office. Diane had gone so he couldn’t ask who had dropped this off. He looked at the phone and switched it on. It didn’t seem to have any service but could still be opened up. He put the SD card into his laptop and scanned it first, just in case. It came up clear. He clicked on the icon for the card when it came up and it came up with one file that read. PLAY ME. He did so and the screen blanked out for a moment and started up a slide show. PRESS PLAY ON THE PHONES SOUND RECORDER NOW. James did so. The voice that came through was disguised. “Mr Fraser, good afternoon. If my calculations are correct you should be receiving this package at sometime around 2 pm on Friday afternoon.” There was a pause and the sound of someone making noise in the background. They sounded angry and sounded if they might be gagged or being stopped from talking. “I believe we have a friend of yours with us. He was found snooping about and before you stop this and call the police I can assure you that by the time the end of this recording has finished you will be aware that your friend Mr Calder is more than happy to be with us.” “In fact you will be the first to witness our latest movie. It’s a prison gang scene about a guy who’s caught undercover by his fellow inmates. “ The screen lit up on the laptop as the slideshow continued. On the screen was a man tied to a chair with his hands behind his back. His face was covered with a towel or something like it. His clothes were rumpled and the sleeve on his shirt was torn and bloody. Two very large muscular men stood either side. One of them was a very well presented man in a prison guards uniform. His hair was very short on the back and side and brushed back 1950’s style. He was very athletic having the look of sportsman or coach in a uniform. He was good looking in a sexy daddy sort of way. Tached and salt and pepper colouring. The guy on the left-hand side was huge and dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit that hand the sleeves cut off. There was no way they would ever have been able to hold the arms that the man had. He looked like he had be hewn rather than born. Grown out of the stone floor he was standing on. His shaved head gleamed in the light of the room, accented with a heavy black goatee beard and pale grey eyes. His arms were folded around his chest and he seemed to unconsciously be flexing them. He was about 6ft and seemed to be staring like his guard companion blankly out of the picture and at James himself. “Mmmmmf….mmm…mmesss.” Said the panicked voice of the person under the towel. “Yes, yes. “ said the dark voice. “Warn him all you like.” It said nonchalantly. “It won’t make any difference.” It paused for a moment. “ Mr Fraser, please be aware if you attempt to contact the police or even stop this recording before we have shown you our work please know that they will find nothing and you will not be seeing your friend Max again.” With that the next picture came up and it was of the guy in the chair and it confirmed James’ suspicion as Max was revealed. His hair was a mess and he has a wild look in his eyes. He looked genuinely afraid. He had a bloodied nose and what seemed to be a black eye. His mouth was gagged with what looked like a rubber ball gag, a standard BDSM toy on a set for a porn film. Max looked out at the camera from the still photo as his voice was heard in the background. “We’re just getting Mr Calder ready for his close up James.” Said the sinister voice as the next picture was of the two large men ripping Max’s shirt off. “First a little, preparation. Hold him.” The next picture flashed up and was of the prison guard injecting Max with something just into his neck while the prisoner bull held him steady. “Mmmmmmm!....Ngghhh…!” James heard Max’s muffled cries…Ove the next few drawn out minutes they got weaker and weaker until he heard a subdued groaning coming from his friends mouth. “Ahh that’s better. Now to work. Max, Max can you hear me ?” Said the man. “Mfff.” Said Max. The next picture flashed up and was of Max staring into the light of the camera with a hooded expression to his eyes. They seemed a little dull, even in the bright light. James rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This bastard had his friend prisoner and was torturing him. “Now, James. Don’t do anything rash.” Said the voice again. “Take a sip of water and calm down. I’ll give you some instructions after this is all over and we’ll try and resolve this situation.” “Now.” Said the stranger. “Where were we? Oh yes. Take the gag off. He shouldn’t be much trouble now.” “Max,MAX…Can you hear me ?” “Huh ?...” said the slurred voice of his friend. “Look at me Max. That’s good. You’re a good boy well done.” “Good booooy…” said his friends voice. It sounded deep and slow. Probably a result of the drug the bastards had given him thought James as he listened horrified and dreaded the next picture. The dark man’s voice continued to talk to Max. “Now Max, in a moment we’ll untie you from the chair and you will continue to sit there. Calm and still, calm and still. Do you understand?” “aarrrm and stiiilll…” came the reply as a new pic appeared. This was of Max. He had been untied and was sat in the chair and was looking up into the camera lens. James saw a little drool dribbling from his bottom lip. “That’s good Max, very good. Now these two men are your friends and you want to help your friends don’t you ?” “Aha..friends.” Max’s voice sounded thick and heavy, almost childish. “Stand up Max and let them help you undress. You’ll be far more comfortable like that trust me.” Max had obviously obeyed as the next picture came up. This time he was just standing there in the room, which did seem like a prison cell. He was stood there naked. The blank expression on his face, the drool and what seemed to be a raging hard on. “Well now, someone’s happy to see his two friends isn’t he?” said the monster on the phone. “They’re happy to see you too. Can you see how happy they are Max ?” he said. James could feel the smirk in the bastards voice. He was enjoying this. James’ mouth was dry. He took another sip of water from the bottle. He didn’t want to continue but had no choice but to listen and watch as his friend was manipulated. “Max, in a moment you will start to feel a little warm and tingly. It’ll feel a bit like when you go to the gym and have a good workout.” “Mmmhhmm.” Said his friend. “You understand ? Good.” Said the man. “You’re going to start to change and I want you to feel and see that it is all normal. This is a good change. You have nothing to fear.” Said the man “Do you understand Max.” he questioned. “No fear.” Said Max’s slow voice. It seemed more sure now but was also somehow deeper than James remembered. “Now I want you to kneel down and show your friends Adam and Rico your appreciation.” Said the man. “You know what to do.” He instructed. “I know…” The next picture flashed up and was off James’ friend of many years. His college buddy was knelt there naked on the floor of this prison cell and had the cocks of the two big muscle men in his mouth. His eyes were wide and staring up at the two men. Slobber and drool from his efforts and the men’s actions were dribbling off his chin. The screen blanked out and there were the sounds of someone giving and being given a blow job. This seemed to go on for a long time and the sounds of passion were punctuated with grunts, the sounds of animal passion. James tried to get the picture out of his head, he didn’t know what to do but couldn’t take his eyes off the screen and couldn’t get the will to switch of the recording either. The sounds of the men’s passions exploding brought James out of his reverie. “Ah…fuck…fuck…fuuuuuck…yeah…Give it to me.” Said Max’s voice. The two mens voices were just grunts. The sound of them cumming, hard was unmistakable. The screen lit up again with Max’s face taking up most of the screen. His sweaty hair was plastered onto his face and his blank eyes stared at the camera in gratitude. On his face was what look like a gallon of cum. It looked like the poor man had been glazed. The screen went dark again. SWITCH OF THE LAPTOP. CONTINIUE TO LISTEN. Instructed the screen. “Do I truly have your attention James ?” Said the creepy man’s smug voice. “Good. If you want to see your friend again and resolve this situation without further, action. Here are your instructions.” James sat in horror and listened to the words. PART 3 “James?” said a faraway voice. “James, are you okay?” It asked. Louder this time. “JAMES!” shouted Diane his assistant. Bringing the lawyer out of his reverie. What had he been….? “Shit” he shouted loudly making Diane’s concerned even more apparent as she touched his shoulder. “Are you okay boss?” She said worriedly, She’d come back to the office after her audition to grab some bits when she saw her boss just staring at the screen on his laptop. Which was weird in itself as the machine had gone into screen saver mode. James seem to be dazed. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. Trying to bring himself out of his daze. “Sorry Di. Dunno what happened to me there.” He apologised to his worried assistant. “Must have dozed off or something.” He said, not sounding entirely convinced by his own excuse. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She said, making sure. “Yeah, yeah. “ He assured her taking a swig from the now warm water bottle on his desk. “I’m fine. Must be tired or maybe coming down with something.” He stood and straightened his tie. Looking at her with his beautiful green eyes. “Look, you head off home. I’m gonna head that way myself. “he said.” Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine.” He grabbed his jacket and popped his laptop into his bag then opened the office door and wave her out. Diane grabbed her coat and bag from her desk. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay. She said heading out the door. “See you Monday.” He said smiling at her concern re-assuring her he was okay. “Monday.” She said and was gone. James lent against the office door for a moment. His head was clearing. He remembered everything that had happened but had been unable to say a word of it to his friend and assistant. What had Bennett done to him ? How much power did the guy have that he could just get him with some pictures and a recorded voice ? The voice on the line had given him some instructions which he felt compelled to obey but they were vague, almost dreamlike in the exact memory of them. He knew he’d remember only when Bennetts voice wanted him to. He knew his first port of call was the gym where he went every day and often worked out with his old friend Max. Max… “Shit Max!” said James and ran out of the door. 25 minutes later he pulled his car up to the lot behind his gym. This wasn’t an exclusive club or true iron gym it was a mid range place you could find in many towns and cities. It was busy enough not to be isolating to the customer and quiet enough that you could usually get on the machines you wanted to. It was about 4.30 and was beginning to fill with the pre-weekend crowd. The gym was called X-WORKS. He tapped his card as he went in and went into the changing rooms and got changed into his gear. Loose light blue vest and dark blue gym shorts just to above the knee and pale green trainers and sports socks. He wasn’t worried about the whole gym fashion thing. He was looking over the gym floor and trying to decide where to start He went to the stretch mats carrying only his gym towel and a bottle of water. He started to warm up on the mat, slowly stretching his long swimmers muscles. He did a good fifteen minutes warm up and then got up ready to go and went to the cycles for some warm up cardio. As he did his eyes scanned the crowd of Friday nighters that were in the gym. After work dads and moms having their one free hour before the weekend with the kids. Older people walking quickly on the treadmills showing they still got. High schoolers trying to show how much they could lift. A whole mix of people including the pre-club workout crowd trying to get a pump before showing off their glistening bodies to anyone who wanted to gape at them. His eye was caught by one guy. Tall, blond type with blue eyes. This guy could have been a surfer if not for the muscle he carried. This guy was stacked. Must’ve weighed 265 if not at least 270 pounds. This was hard earned muscle, this guy was shredded to perfection, striations and veins cut across all of his major muscle groups his chest, shoulders and arms were covered in thick rope-like veins. His forearms were so thick that James realised he’d been staring at the guy. He looked away before the big man noticed. He went back to cycling and tried to concentrate on the tv screen ahead of him and started pedalling faster and faster. He was in the zone about 10 mins later when he heard a voice close to him over the gym’s loud music. “Hey buddy.” The voice said. “Any chance of helping me with a spot?” The deep voice asked James turned his and slowed his pedalling and there, next to him was the big guy he’d spotted earlier. Closer up he was a magnificent specimen of manehood. James wasn’t gay but given his industry he was open and could still appreciate a male form. This guy was hotness personified. “Can I get a spot?” said the guy in a slow measured tone that seemed to be coming from somewhere deep below the ground. It was that type of voice that when heard managed to get most gay guys and straight woment right in the private parts. You know what I mean ? James stopped pedalling and took the guy in with his eyes. “Yeah, sure thing.” He said. The big guy slapped him on the shoulder and James swore it went all the way through him the the floor. “Thanks buddy, the name’s Mack.” Said the behemoth. “Well Mack.” Said James dismounting from the cycle. “It’s good to meet you. “ He said extended his hand to shake, The big guy stood there a moment and looked at James’ hand as if confused and unsure what to do with it. Then it was as if he was receiving instructions from someone else he laughed. “Aha aha aha!” It was loud and forceful and lacking in any real intelligence. A true Jocks laugh. James groaned inwardly but he’d already agreed so followed the big man to a weight bench lined with free weights. “You can jump in too if you like.” Said Mack “You’ve already done your warmups from what I could see.” “Yeah, sure thing . “ said James. What’re we doing?” he asked the big bodybuilder. “Chest.” Said the huge man. Getting his barbell ready with a warmup weight. As he settled on the bench and set it flat he lay down and looked up at James. “You okay with this weight to start?” “Yup. It’s fine by me.” Said the lawyer. It was a warm-up so he wasn’t worried. The big guy pounded and James pounded out the warmup sets. Slightly increasing the weight each time. James or Mack counting out the others reps and helping at the end as required. Which wasn’t often. James was surprised how much he was enjoying this. He hadn’t worked out with anyone for a while expect with his pal Max…Max…He paused a moment.. Something started to niggle him. “Hey Jimmy you in there?” He felt a light tap on his head as the big guy got up from his last set and pretended to knock on his skull. James came back to himself.”Oh…hi..sorry was miles away.” He said. Where was he again? Oh yeah the gym. “Aha aha aha.” That laugh again. James thought to himself. It was quite appealing rather than annoying. Quite sexy really. He sneaked a glance at the big guy as he turned to alter the weights again. His back was massive. He wore an old school, faded gold, World gym top that had seen a lot of use and what seemed at first glance to be compression shorts. On closer inspection they turned out to be jersey shorts stretched so tight James could see the veins on the man’s thighs and his ass was spectacular. “Good view from back there buddy? “ said Mack. “Oh err..”James would normally be flustered and rather than deny he had just been scoping out the mans ass he said. “Hell yeah.” He blushed and felt awkward in the same way a teenager on their first date feels at kissing time. What was wrong with him? He could feel the small voice in his head saying that this wasn’t him but he also wasn’t really listening. “You’re up Jimmy A bit more weight this time.” Said the beast James meant to tell the guy it was James and not Jimmy but didn’t want to spoil the moment by criticising the guy. He lay on the bench. Mack moved close the head of the bench where James’ head was and lifted the barbell and lowered it to James’ waiting hands. “Don’t forget to breathe Jimmy.” Said Mack smiling as he looked down and stepped closer to the bench and James head. James could just see the guys crotch at the top of his vision and his mouth went dry.” “1-2-3..” counted the big man towering above him. James was enthralled by the play of his own muscles even as he watched the big guy stretch and lift above him. Time seemed to blur. James wasn’t sure whether it had been a minute or an eternity when the set had finished. He felt dizzy for a moment and sat up slowly. “Take it easy buddy.” Said the slow deep voice of his training partner. “Here, take this. You gotta be thirsty.” Said Mack handing him a bottle of unopened water. James looked down to his and realised it was empty. When did he finish…? His chest felt like it was on fire as did his shoulders and arms. He’d only been working chest with this guy hadn’t he ? “Well we’re done for the day.” Said Mack. “Huh…?” said Ji-j-James dully. He was stilled dazed from the workout obviously. “We’ve only just started..” James said. “Dude, we’ve been at it for nearly 3 hours. You said you weren’t into heavy weights as a swimmer or sumthin’ I knew you were a kidder.” Said the behemoth who was now pumped to the Max… Max…Macks.. MAX! For a moment Jimmy looked at the big monster of a man in front of him and thought he knew him from somewhere else. “Max?” He question dully as they walked to the changing room. The big guy turned around and smiled at him. Big, toothy vacuous grin. “I was.” Said Mack. The room was empty apart from the two of them. Mack was ripped and now pumped. He looked like a god stood there in the white light of the changing room. “Until you sent me to meet Saul Bennett.” Said the big, muscular beast of a man. He took off the vest. As he did so all the muscle in his arms and shoulders bunched and flexed and he struggled for a moment to take the shirt off over his huge wing like lats. He laughed at that. That laugh again. For some reason the laugh made James/ Jimmy hard. He felt it in his groin the moment he heard that sound. He could feel his cock begin to stiffen in his shorts…? He looked down and realised he was wearing different clothes from when he’d entered the gym. His gym shorts were now tight under armour compression shorts and his t-shirt had gone replaced by a cut off tank. He couldn’t make out the logo or words on the bright red cutoff for some reason. On his feet were a pair of Nike hi-tops. Bright red to match the shirt. He didn’t notice this difference as he was to enthralled by the man in front of him who had just fished out the biggest cock Ja---Jimmy had ever seen. As he knelt in front of the big man with his mouth salivating he noticed a mirror to the side that showed the both of them. The big muscular man towering above him, Vast shoulder and lats, shoulders more like a range of mountains that held the must unfeasible set of arms Jimmy had ever seen. Massive ledgelike pecks and a thick waist with a slight roid belly look that supported all above. The legs, thigh and calves looked like they’d been hewn rather than grown. Topped off that all over the beautiful tanned body were veins that seemed to show every contour and contrast. Then there was the cock. Mack’s cock was a beast to behold. Thick, almost two hander to hold, about 11 inches long. Mack had pulled back the foreskin and the thick, bloated, purple head of the monster was already leaking with precious juices. Jimmy caught sight of himself. Kneeling there in front of his god, salivating. In his gym gear and wearing a red baseball cap backwards on his head. His blank blue eyes staring at the mirror. Drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. His muscles were ridiculous. These were not the beautiful muscle of a cut body builder. Jimmy had the muscle of a laborious beast. He was more massive than the man above him. Crouched as he was he looked more Neanderthal than man. His dark eyes looked dim and his hair was shaggy where it peaked under the cap. His brow was thicker somehow and his eyebrow seemed to almost meet in the middle. His neck was so thick that it and his monstrous traps almost seemed to devour his skull. They were so high at the back. His shoulders and arms were almost grotesque in their massiveness. Veins didn’t just cross his arms they ravaged them. His chest was beyond human and dusted with dark hair. They were almost pendulous in the way they hung there. The big brown nipples pointing to the ground because the pecks were so huge. He couldn’t really see what his legs were like because he was kneeling but could feel the size and thickness of them. It was like they were made from steel. He turned back to the man in front of him and had only one thought in his mind. “JAMES!” said the voice. “JAMES ARE YOU OKAY.” It said again. “FOR FUCKS SAKE JAMES. WAKE UP!” it said again. Jimmy no James looked up. “Diane?” He said confused…. Part 4 James shook his head as his vison cleared. “Phheww!” he sighed and shook his head again. “Are you okay,” said Diane as she leaned over him, still sat in his desk chair. He was at the office. But he’d just been at the gym hadn’t he? His thoughts were so muddled it was taking him a while just to get his mouth working again.” “I’m fine Di.” He said. Reassuring her in a way that he himself didn’t feel. The attractive brunette got a bottle of water from the fridge in the outer office and ran a cloth under the tap in the kitchenette. “Here.” She said in a matronly fashion as she handed him the water and put the cool, damp cloth on his neck where it sat on his hot skin soothingly. “I…I must’ve nodded off.” He said look up at her blearily. His head felt thick, muddy and unclear. He just couldn’t focus properly. “Do you want me to call the doctor?” She asked worried about her friend and boss. “No, no…I’ll be alright. I must be coming down with something.” He said. He did feel sore come to think of it. All over. It was a deep ache, almost gnawing ache. Like hunger but different, darker. He couldn’t think of the words to describe it. “You sure?” she said. “I can cancel my plans and take you home, it’s no biggie. Or I can call your wife to come get you?” “No, it’s fine Di. I’m fine. Feeling much better now.” He said and it was true. AS his senses returned to him he was feeling better, energised in fact. He stood up and removed the towel from his neck handing it back to her. “Thanks.” He said as he started to gather his stuff and pack his bag. Again. Or at least that’s what it felt like, déjà vu. “You go and get on with your weekend.” He said as he all but shooed the woman out of the door smiling at her. “I’ll be fine.” He told her again. “As long as you’re sure. “ She said. She stopped at the door and turned around and put a light hand on his cheek. “You work too hard boss, please take it easy this weekend.” Then she was off out the door and shouted as she went down the corridor. “Call me if you need anything.” And the she was gone. James sat back in the chair heavily for a moment. He could still remember the gym. He could remember everything that happened in vivid detail. He remember Mack and his beautiful face and godlike body looming over him. He could remember how his gym gear pressed up against the thick, thight muscle of his hard steellike body. Veins running over the muscle just under the skin. Thick, rope like and full of pulsing life. Just like Mack’s cock. Oh god the cock. James leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. His breathing started to catch as he remembered the beast between Mack’s legs. Thick and shining. Two hands to hold and dripping with pre-cum. The smell was beyond anything. It was like smelling joy to him. James wanted to run his tongue up and down the monster, he had to. He had to find Mack again. He opened his eyes and realised he was still in the office and he’d just closed his eyes for a second. That was enough for him to re-live that memory and then ejaculate. He’d cum in his trouser. Like a teenager,he thought, now horrified. What the hell was wrong with him ? He’d just had a fantasy about one of his work collegues. No, wait Mack wasn’t a colleguege. Max was. Where was Max ? God he was so confused. He needed to go home and rest. He gathered his gear together, realising his gym bag was still there. He grabbed his laptop and stuffed it on top of the used and sweaty top and shorts. He hadn’t actually been to the gym. Had he? Not trusting himself to drive he went down the stairs after closing the office and hailed a cab. He got in and gave the driver his address and heard a beep from his Wife. Apparently her sister had gone into labour early so she was heading off to the airport so she could be with her family and support her sister. He called her and wish her luck and told her to send his love to his sister in law. He also told he was feeling under the weather so it was just as well that she went as he would be no fun. She gave him her love and told him where he could get some good chicken soup near their home. He smiled and told her he loved her.He put the phone back in his pocket and lay back on the seat of the cab. He closed his eyes for a second just to still his senses. In his mind’s eye all he could see were the massive tree trunk legs of Mack and that monster cock with it’s pendulous balls. “Hey Buddy!” said the driver’s voice. “Whha..” said James opening his eyes and looked around realising he was home. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He apologised as he got out of the cab, he still felt sore and disorientated as he gave the driver the fare telling him to keep the change. He wasn’t sure but he thought he heard the guy say “dumbass” as the cab pulled away at speed. He walked up to the house. There was a light burning in the front room and he heard music playing. His wife had probably left them on so he didn’t feel so lonely coming home to an empty house. They did things like that. He smiled at the kind thought. He opened the door and dumped his bag on the floor just by the coat rack. There was a light classical music playing and room was lit by warm, mellow lights from the various lamps around it. The person standing in the room wasn’t his wife. It was Saul Bennett. He was holding a glass half full of what appeared to be James’ own 25 year scotch. As he walked into the room Bennett raised the glass in a salute and took a sip. “What the hell?” Said James. “Not bad.” Said Bennett savouring the flavour of the alcohol and totally ignoring James indignation. “What are you doing in my house Bennett.” Shouted James. “Get out now before I call the police.” He said angrily. “Now, now James. Don’t lose your pretty head.” Said the monster with a smile. “I just wanted to take a few moments of your time to have a little chat, then I’ll be gone.” James crossed his arms and walked over to the bottle of his whisky and poured himself a good measure. He took a swig. “Then, talk.” He said glaring at the man who had invaded his home. Bennett took another swig of his drink and smiled in much the same way as a crocodile would smile at a fox who’d just ask for a lift across the swamp on it’s back. “Okay then.Talk.” He demanded turning to keep the stare of this man with a confidence he really didn’t feel. “Okay, then.” Said Bennett. “We have a problem.” He said. That smile again. “You are looking into things that really don’t concern you and I’d like you to stop.” Said the businessman. “If you do then I will pay you a fee, call it compensation for having to quit Manny’s case.” Offered Bennett. “No deal.” Said James immediately. “Don’t be so hasty James.” Said Bennett sipping his drink again. “There will be a price to pay if you chose not to take this offer.” He said looking over at the lawyer with something akin to pity. James next instinct was to curl his hands into fist with the intention of punching the sanctimonious pricks teeth down his throat. Fisted clenched at his sides in anger he took two steps forward towards the asshole. “STOP!” The words rang out, not just in his ears but inside his head. It was like a chorus of voices said it at once to him and he could only obey. There was no question of any other type of behaviour. So, he stood there. In silence while this man / monster just looked at him, looked at him as if weighing up what to do with a naughty puppy who has mess the kitchen up while his master’s been at work. “One word James, that’s all that was needed there.” Said Bennett. “That’s just pre-conditioning. You’re in a highly suggestible state right now.” “You have been for some time.” He said. Pretty much since before lunch time when you ask Diane for a bottle of water. James’ eyes widened as he thought back. Then’ he looked to the whisky bottle in alarm. “Yes, that too.” Bennett confirmed. “I have a certain flair with the dramatic don’t you think?” he asked his audience of one. “I’ve actually had my eyes on you for a while.” He sneered at James “You’ve been of little hindrance until recently, until Manny. “He said. “I really don’t like people snooping into my affairs. There tends to be consequences for that.” “Oh, you may speak, don’t strain a blood vessel.” Bennett gave his permission to James. “You fucking freak, how are you doing this ?What have you done with my wife and Diane ?” he shouted. “Do not, above all things, raise your voice to me James.” Said Bennett, dangerously quietly. “I cannot abide rudeness”. He said. “The ladies are fine and will remain that way. If you hear me out. I have some business to discuss with you first.” “Talk, then.” Demanded James still trying to move. “What did I say about rudeness Jim?” asked Bennett “kneel!” demanded the dark, smooth velvet of Bennetts voice. James Obeyed. Without a fight. He had no choice. He had to. Worse, he wanted to. It was a primordial urge, one that he could not even think of fighting. He knelt in front of his captor, head bowed in supplication almost. “What do you want from me?” He said, so quietly it was just a whisper. “That’s easy Jim, Jimmy even.” Said the face that loomed above him. “I want you.” Bennett confirmed what James / Jimmy already knew “As I said we do have business to discuss.” Bennett pressed some button on his phone. “Yes, you may come in now.” James heard the front door opening and senses a large presence behind him. “I believe you’ve met Mack ?” said Saul Bennett. The figure that came in the door and into the light of the living room was huge. It was Jimmy’s friend Max, although not the Max he remembered, apart from in his Laptop fantasy (That cock). This was Max 5.0 This was Mack the monster. Every bit as shredded and packed with muscle as he pictured him from his fevered dream back in the office. “Max ?” he said, not quite believing what he was seeing. The behemoth was dressed in gym gear. A raggedy Golds gym top in faded blue. Straps stretched so thin over the monstrous traps, shoulders and pecks that it just seemed unfeasible a person would be able to move if at all with all that bulk. The pecks themselves were so large that the thick nipples pointed down to the floor because of the sheer mass of the slabs of beef they were attached too. All of this bulk seemed to cinch itself inwards with the shape of the monstrous lats at the back and the ridiculous arms, that Jimmy was sure wouldn’t serve any practical purpose other than to lift weight. Biceps, thick hanging triceps and forearms that were from the fevered dreams of the most dedicated muscle fetishists. All of this growth and mass was on top of a pair of legs, that were themselves encased in white full leg compression leggings. The legs so powerful and filled with strength Jimmy could see the veins almost pulsing under the tight white fabric. The monsters’ huge feet encased in a pair of white Hi-top adidas trainers. Right at Jimmy’s eye levels was a bulge that was doing very little to hide itself. “Jimmy” said a voice that Jim heard as if it was drawn from the bottom of a well. Although he was sure he felt it start in his balls. It was that deep and that hot. Jimmy looked up in to the face of the beast and it was Max, not the nice gentle man he had known for years. This was a creature of stone, hewn, rather than grown. His brow was markedly thicker. His beautiful blue eyes were still intense and held an almost blank animal cunning a lust even. The thick black hair on his head was tousled and rough and longer than he remembered. Mack put a rough calloused hand on Jimmy’s shoulder briefly and he nearly shot his load where he knelt. “What the fuck?” He breathed. Realising that it wasn’t a question it was more a statement of awe. “Well” said the ringmaster, still holding the remains of his whisky glass. “To business.” He sat on the arm of the chair and leaned forward to Jimmy in a friendly manner. “You have a choice here Jimmy.” He offered. “You can walk out of here now, tomorrow you will pack up your business and within a month you and your lovely wife will have a new set up in a part of the country you choose. You will forget about any of this and all will be well.” Jimmy couldn’t keep his eyes off the man beast in front of him. He was that close he could feel the heat radiating from him. “Or?” Jimmy asked weakly. “Or….” Said Bennett drawing out the word. “Or, you will end up working for me as part of my stable. A new and exciting partner for Mack here. Our latest attractions if you will while I’m waiting for another to arrive from another part of the country.” “Fuck you.” Spat Jimmy (no James) suddenly finding the strength from somewhere to resist the devil in a suit before him. He tried to stand and almost did before a ton of stone seemed to crash onto his shoulders in the form of Mack’s monstrous hands. James turned to Bennett and spat at him, caught him clean in the left eye. The air seemed to crackle and turn heavy for a moment as if lightening was about to strike. Then it cleared as Saul Bennett started laughing as he grabbed a pocket square and wiped he face. He shook his head as he looked down on his prey. “Well, I must say I didn’t see that one coming. I certainly didn’t think you’d have had the strength to even turn your head.” He smiled and dropped the square on the coffee table. “So you’ve made your choice then ? No Job? Can’t see us working well together ?” He taunted “Oh well, I did try. I gave you a choice, an out if you will.” Said Bennett. “Mack, he’s all yours.” Said Bennett as he got up and brushed himself down. He headed to the door. “James it’s been interesting. Jimmy, I will be seeing you very soon.” Then he was gone. James felt the strong hands of Mack again. His attention was again drawn to the huge bulge in front of him. Mack put his hands into the front of the leggings and brought out the monstrous cock that was oh so vivid in Jimmy’s mind (JAMES not Jimmy please…) James could smell the odour of sweat and pheromones. Male sweat was emanation from the beast in Mack’s hands. He caught the smell of cock and he knew that he had started to drool. He couldn’t help himself. He dove on the cock, now released from the hold that Bennett had placed on him. He was now entranced by another master. He gave himself to it completely, he couldn’t help it. He took the beast in his mouth as if born to it. Mack put both his thick muscular hands on either side of Jimmy’s head (Definitely Jimmy now) and wouldn’t let him pull away. He could feel the thick piece of meat grow in his mouth but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if it choked him he felt he would die happy. Jimmy worked his mouth up and down the huge member, slathered it in his own spit and worked it with both of his hands. Mack started to fuck his face, groaning slightly, in and out. In and out. Slowly at first. Jimmy was moaning in lust. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t get enough of it. In and out. In and out. The huge man started to build up speed and his breath started to come in more urgent, ragged breaths. For about 15 minutes they were like this. Jimmy working the monstrous tool while the big bodybuilder alternated between slow and deep and out and out face fucking. Deep throating almost every stroke. Jimmy took it all and loved it. What Jimmy didn’t notice was that during this process he appeared to be wearing the gym gear that had been in his bag earlier. It still smelled of the gym. His body had started to slowly grow and change too. Mack reached behind himself as he was getting towards his final strokes and took a bright red snapback out of nowhere and placed if on Jimmy’s head. Jimmy had started to wank his own splendid cock now, but was really still riveted on the one that was still invading his face. All thoughts of his wife, Diane, Max and even Saul Bennett were about to be washed away. Mack drew himself up to his full height as he knew he was close. His think veined muscle seemed to jostle on his massive frame as he started to tremble. He clenched all of his power into a huge pose. Most muscular for the gods and with a roar he shot his wad into the mouth of the waiting cock slut beneath him. It felt like hours as he continued to pump the man’s mouth until he’d been sucked dry by the dumbass jock on his knees in front of him. Jimmy looked up at his lover with nothing less than vacuous wonder. He drew his hand across his mouth and wiped away some of the drool. He felt clear if not empty headed. His own thoughts now were limited to the needs of the beast in front of him and his master Saul Bennett. Part V The lady sat under a large sun umbrella and sipped at a cup of tea that had been served in a delicate powder blue china cup and saucer. It had the delicate bergamot perfume of Earl Grey and was served, quite properly with a slice of lemon. She was dressed in pale blue herself. Knitted pale blue suit and hat to match. She had a small set of pinz nez on a silver chain around her neck and would occasionally lift them to her eyes and gaze at the world or the people around her. Not that she needed them when she looked at you it pretty much felt like she already knew everything about you and what you were going to say. Her amethyst eyes were laser-like in their luminosity. She sat very properly, as ladies should, with her knees close together and her feet crossed at the ankles. I asked her about the incident with James Fraser and Maxwell Calder. She took a slow, delicate sip of her tea and looked into me for a moment. Then she dabbed her lips gently with her napkin and set it and her cup on the table beside her. When she spoke it was the voice of everyone’s Grandma. Gentle, warm and easy. It had a southern drawl to it that said this lady was a Georgia woman somewhere down the line. “Well, my dear you found me to talk to me about it. I wass wondering when we would get to it.” She said. “How did you first get involved? I didn’t think this would be something you would have got involved in.” I asked. “Okay, this was unusual.” She said. “ I have a lot of friends and contacts around the world. Especially in my field I am a very valued expert. I have a magic touch if you will.” “Usually I rely on wish fulfilment or revenge events but every now and then someone will call me and ask for specific help. If it, or they are worthy I help. On this occasion they really needed my help. “ She took another sip of her tea. “A week or so ago I had a call from a friend of mine called James, he works in L.A. (A cesspool of scum and iniquity but in the end money is money to some.) He had come across a situation that wasn’t really in his purview and asked for my help. “We’d worked together previously, and I’d taught him the basics in how to recognise manipulation, alchemy and magic. “She said and look at me intensely. “Anyway, the call went like this… Oh and yes dear I did say magic… “It does exist as you will find out if you bother to read all of the story rather than trying to skip through to the horny bits that you always do (Yes dear. You. )” she seemed to say to no-one in particular.” “I taped the call.” she said as she drew out a small recording device and placed it on the table. She looked at it testily when it wouldn’t start and then just glared at it for a second. I swear I think the thing started out of embarrassment… Anyway. The call went like this : Ms D “Hello James.” James: “Ms D.Good to speak to you.” Ms D “Why James it has been a while. It could be said that you have been remiss in your attentions.” James “Aww Ms D. You know you truly are the only woman for me.” Said James Ms D “What can this old southern gal do for a big city lawyer like yourself?” James “I think I have one of those problems that only you can deal with.” Ms D “Intriguing, it has been a while since we crossed paths and I know that I taught you well enough to recognise meddling when it’s around.” James “That’s why I called. I think there’s someone who is definitely at it here in L.A.” He pauses for a moment on the phone. James “It’s a bit out of my league and to be honest I’m a little worried about it. It might be good to have a little back-up.” Ms D “I sense that there’s something more about this one James. What’s the issue my dear?” James “This guy changes people. Actually transforms them. I know it’s possible to hypnotise and entrance people but this ? It’s high level and way out of my experience. I’m worried. Max Calder is going in tomorrow and I want to make sure he’s protected. Look I know you’re busy but if you can help in any way…” Ms D “I’ll help dear boy, of course I will. What’s the name of the reprobate we’re dealing with so I can have a little look see?” James “His name is Saul Bennett.” Ms D “Saul B.E.N.N.E.T.T ?” James “Yup that’s him. He’s a big time porn producer with a rep for really owning his guys and girls if you know what I mean?” Ms D “I do indded, go on.” James “Well I have heard stories over the last 6 months or so about guys either disappearing or changing enough that their own families and friends hardly recognise them. It’s scary. I’ve met one of the guys whose partner has changed. It’s scary.” Ms D Pauses a moment Ms D “I can only imagine what the poor souls are going through. James, does this man have two different coloured eyes ?” James “Why yes, he does. How’d you know?” Ms D “Years of experience and a quick search of my database while we were chatting. I may be an old maid dear but I’m far from decrepit yet.” James (Laughing) “No-one who’s ever met you would call you that dear, lady.” Ms D “I’ve got a couple of good likenesses here now, give me a few hours and then call me back. Also contact Max and tell him to call me before he goes in to. Tell him not to make any contact there unless he’s spoken to me first.” James “I will, thanks for this. I really do appreciate it. I’ll have to pay you back one day.” Ms D (Gentle laughter) “You can do so by visiting a little more than you have and maybe taking an old lady out to dinner.” James “You’ll outlive me I’m certain of that. Dinner’s a date. Speak to you soon.” Ms D “You shall indeed. Be safe James. This person is dangerous I can sense it. This isn’t a stage magician you’re dealing with. Bye for now.” The Line goes dead The Lady picks up her device and pops it back into her bag and closes it with a snap. She takes a final sip of her tea and looks at me over the rim of the cup. She finishes it and pops it back on it’s saucer and on the table. “Well?” she asks “Did that answer all of your questions?” I pause for a minute to gather my thoughts and then soldier on under this woman’s intense stare. “To be honest for each one it answer I think I have about 20 more.” I admit honestly. I cannot be anything but honest in this lady’s presence. It would feel wrong. I look at her as she sits primly and properly in her wicker chair and cannot understand for the life of me where she seems to get this aura of calm, authority from. It’s as if someone took every grandmotherly emotion and condensed it into some sort of protective cloak about her. I know that I would do anything for her. It’s that sort of feeling. “Why, what a lovely compliment young man.” She says brightly and fans herself with her hand. “I find myself quite, quite flattered.” She smiles. “I-I, err.. “ I stammer slightly. “How did I know? “ she asked smiling still. “Come on dear boy.” She chided gently “You heard the recording and you’ve seen the two boys.” She said. “It’s true?” I asked already knowing the answer I had already, in truth known all along. “All of it, every word.” She affirmed. “Wow.” I said. “The big question here Michael my dear.” She said pausing and leaning forward out of her chair and lightly gripping my chin so she raises my eyes to her blue lasers. “Is what are we going to do about Saul Bennett?”
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