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  1. PowerFibres

    The New 2022 Agenda

    I remember the new laws as if they were yesterday, even now it still feels like some strange dream. The time was 23:59, 31st December 2021; me and my friends gathered around the television to watch the fireworks and celebrations while we had some celebrations of our own. All of us were gorging on whatever readymade stuff we could find at the store, and most of us had got drunk as lords off the wine. I'd been trying to eat and drink away my troubles and loneliness as I shoveled food into my already huge gut and my head swirled from the alcohol. Eventually, someone yelled that it was almost midnight, and our attention was gripped by the screen. We did the countdown. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year." Someone popped a cork, a couple of people got a drunken chorus of Auld Lang Syne going, and it was pretty much a regular old New Years party. This went on until the fireworks stopped, and the screen faded to black. I noticed the change first, as I was hardly in the mood for celebrating, and I pointed it out to the room when "BREAKING NEWS" came on the screen. The room almost instantly fell to silence, until a voice spoke. "This is a breaking news bulletin concerning a government announcement, please stand by for more information" I'd heard about this supposed government announcement, but thought nothing of it as nobody seemed to have any idea what it could be about. There were rumours it concerned those big buildings that the government were buying up, and working on away from the public eye. We didn't have to wait long to find out, as the screen changed to an empty podium with a flag behind it. After a moment, a man walked onto screen and behind the podium. Even in the suit he wore, you could tell from the way his body filled it out that he was no stranger to the gym; his shaved head and no-nonsense expression told us all that he was the sort of guy who didn't tolerate much bullshit. "Good evening, or rather good morning everyone, we hope that your new year's has been pleasant, and wish you luck in the coming year. This message concerns new policy that has come into effect, as of midnight, 1st January 2022." Everyone began to share nervous glances, racking our brains to think of what this could possibly be about. "A new report from the department of health has revealed damning information about the obesity crisis and a lack of physical education. Our health system has been strained to breaking point by these issues, and it is in the interests of the country to use drastic measures in order to prevent catastrophe. As of today, state-sanctioned gyms will be opening across the country, half for men and half for women. Information obtained from the department of health has allowed us to form a list of those at serious risk of health impacts from unhealthy lifestyles, 70% of the population is on this list. Those on this list will be sent more information about the gyms they have been assigned to, the exercises they are supposed to follow, the times in which they are supposed to attend, and other details. Thank you listening to this broadcast." And with that, the bulletin ended, and we were all left sitting in shock. We could barely form our suprise into words as we talking (or rather shouted) amongst ourselves about this decision. There were some who supported this decision, and others who were outraged at the news, but it was undeniable that most of us would be heading for a world of change. While the next few days offered reprieve as the information was handed out to every person, I soon found myself with a government booklet in my hand. It had two options, either cardio, weightlifting, or a combination of the two. While I was unfamiliar with a lot of the terminology of the weightlifting section, the cardio section made me tired just looking at it. I also received information concerning the gym I was supposed to attend, and the regulations on the gym clothes that were to be worn at this gym. And if I thought I could just use my burnt calories to eat more, the booklet detailed mandatory health inspections that would be happening to ensure that progress was being made. The next day, my programme began. I turned up at the gym at the allocated window of time. The building was huge, and had a sign above that read "Department of Health State Gym, No. 368, Male", men of different shapes and sizes, but none of this skinny, were walking in. There was a constant stream of guys coming in and out, with the ones coming in looking nervous, and ones coming out looking sweaty and exhausted. The entire place was overseen by guys who were clearly ex-army, who now worked for a different branch, with their maroon uniforms and either ripped or athletic physiques. I walked up to the next free desk, with one of the assistants behind it. "Hello sir, name please." "Julian Overton" "I see you here on the list, Mr Overton. Are you here for the cardio programme, the weightlifting programme, or the mixed programme." "Mixed please." I'd chosen mixed as I knew running and other cardio, but hoped the weightlifting could give me some time to breath between. "Very well, that is in the system now. Do you have the recommended clothes for your session today." "Yes." "Excellent, here is your programme" he handed me a table of the activities "and if you'd like to proceed into the changing room over there, put on your exercising clothes, and begin." I did as the man said, and went into the changing room, only to be met by quite a sight. The men who were changing with me were all of considerable size; giant guts, flabby arms, clearly very little physical exercise, and when I looked down at my own body, I saw the exact same thing. As I watched some of the older men with my physique struggle to change their clothes before even beginning to exercise, I realised the reasons behind this new law. As I made my way to the main area, I noticed a man walking in the same direction who had clearly not changed clothes, and was stopped by the guard who was watching people as they came in. "Stop!" I nearly fainted when I thought he was talking to me, but he was addressing the other man. "Those clothes are not appropriate for the gym, and are in violation of the rules." "Oh, I'm sorry. I promise I'll remember some tomorrow, I was just in a rush-" the guard cut him off. "Violations of the clothing rules will not make anyone exempt from their sessions. Please remove the offending items." The man, clearly surprised but with no other option, took off his clothes until he was just stood in his underwear. He was expecting to receive something else to wear, but the guard simply stood to allow him to pass, expecting him to begin his programme. I tried to put the exchange out of my mind as I got started for the first time, and trying not to stare at the other guys in their underwear who had clearly tried to fiendishly break the system. The cardio was brutal, and the weightlifting was hell, but when I left a feeling that I'd never felt before. That one workout hadn't changed much, but the feeling of physical accomplishment was making me feel inches taller and miles more confident. When the next day came, and I was expected at the gym again, I didn't come in with half of the nervousness that I had before. I blasted through my programme a second time, far easier than I had the first. This continued again and again and again, until strolling into the gym was just another part of the day. My eating habits also changed. The junk food felt like poison to me now, as I started to learn the horrors of what I'd been putting into my body. It was one thing when I was a fat tub, but now I had goals to work towards. Now the only things I could eat was vegetables, fruits, and whatever protein sources wouldn't pack on the pounds. As expected, my body began to rapidly change. My giant gut and man tits melted like ice in heat, and soon I was seeing the outlines of muscle poke through the flab. I was waking up with more energy, simple tasks like climbing stairs were now a breeze, and mentally I felt like someone had come in with a cloth and wiped my issues away. Pretty soon, I was itching to go back to the gym, and I was striking up conversations with the assistants there. Eventually, I got talking with an assistant named Eric. He was a beautiful, 6'4 ex-navy guy who had got into bodybuilding to fill the hole in his life left by the navy, and boy did it show. The first thing I noticed about him were his arms, which were mostly uncovered by the uniforms, revealing two colossal mountains of bicep standing high about a thick river of tricep that ran underneath. I also loved his forearms which he left hairy and were covered with striations. We really hit it off, his interests being just as nerdy as mine, and we quickly became friends. I noticed from day one how he was making a peak form in my gym shorts, and how much I loved seeing him running his fingers through his hair as his biceps raised, but I shelved those feelings in fear of jeopardising the friendship. As we both clearly were gym bros, I asked if Eric if he wanted to work out with me. He seemed enthused, but revealed he worked out at another gym that wasn't government sanctioned, and far more centred around weightlifting. I was nervous to go into unfamiliar territory, but as I'd done it before, I agreed agreed. We met up at Eric's gym, his face seeming to light up when he saw me arrive. We went into the changing area, and began talking. As I opened my gym bag, Eric whipped off his shirt, and I saw what was really underneath. His body looked like it was carved out of marble, his shoulders wide enough to carry two other men on them, his pecs like two metal trophies of his physical accomplishment, his back like a winding map of muscle. When he slid off his trousers, I marveled at his trunk legs with lines that marked out each meticulously cared for muscle. I watched as he slid on his gym shorts and shoes, but just as I expected him to pull out a gym shirt, he began loading his stuff into one of the lockers. When I pulled out a gym shirt of my own and put it over my head, he whispered. "Hey, if you want to wear a shirt, that's cool, but most people just choose to let it hang out. It really helps with getting in touch with your body." Against all other expectations, I decided to leave my shirt in the locker. As Eric had described, the gym was wall-to-wall weight lifting equipment, and the cardio machines I used at the other place were gone. I had no choice but to really get stuck into the weight, but I found myself enjoying it. Eric could clearly see the enjoyment on my face, and when we're walking towards the exit, he said "I can see you enjoyed it dude, and I'm glad. I think you'd look hot with some muscle on your bones." "Thanks. It's cool that you can say that about other guys." "Well, maybe it's weird for straight guys, but for guys like me usually don't have a problem." "Wait a minute, are you gay?" "Yeah dude, couldn't you tell." "Fuck no. Clearly us gay guys don't have the gaydars we think we do." "Hold on, you're gay too?" "Ha, if that doesn't just prove my point." Well, as much as we didn't want to jinxe it too early, we knew that this would be the beginning of something else in our relationship. I saw him in a new light, and even more irresistible than I did before. One day, as we were on the bench press station, Eric went for his PR. Just before he did, I learnt over and whispered in his ear. "If you do this, I'll make out with you in the gym restroom. Do you want it?" Eric didn't say a word, just grabbed the bar with his powerful arms, brought it to his chest, and thrust it into the air. In minutes we were rubbing our shirtless bodies against each other, locking lips as we felt each other's abs. Later that month, when I was on the squat station, about to attempt my PR, he leant over and whispered in my ear. "If you do this, I'll fuck your brains out in my bed. Do you want it?" I didn't say a word, just grabbed the bar, slowly dropped down, and back up again. An hour later, we had burst into his apartment, barely able to keep our hands off each other, before he had his dick deep inside me. It was so hot looking in the mirror and seeing two muscled masculine bodies engaged in this erotic act. Eric got me more and more obsessed with bodybuilding, until eventually I was starting to catch up to him, which only made our bedroom activities better. We went on dates where we ordered piles and piles of protein, we would drink our shakes while watching a film and cuddled, all the while he stayed my favourite gym spotter in the world. It was no time at all before we were just two muscle guys, madly in love. One day, my beautiful boy rushed home to tell me that there was a vacancy at the state gym for an assistant. I thought they would never pick me, and there'd just be someone else better, but as I looked at myself in the mirror. However, when I looked in the mirror, a fully formed bodybuilder looked back at me, so I applied. It was tough, there were other candidates of around size there, but the physical exam showed that I was the right man for the job. Soon, me and Eric were working together in our maroon uniforms, helping others achieve their potentials, and I couldn't be happier. Months, even years passed, and we moved in together. Then, when our three year anniversary came around, I took my man on a long hike up to the top of a hill. When we got to the end, our chests uncovered and gleaming with sweat, I got on one knee, buried my face in his six pack, and asked him to marry me. He of course said yes. The night after our wedding day, I got to make a protein-rich breakfast for me and my sleeping groom. When I picked up a letter that had just arrived, I chuckled to myself. It was a questionnaire asking for my opinion on the physical fitness laws. Well because of them I was in the best shape of my life, my mind was clean as a whistle, and most importantly, I'd met the man on my dreams. So I said I was very happy with these government policies, very happy indeed.
  2. Excerpt from "The Twenty" Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered 2014 The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” Casey’s mind was racing. How could he pay for this? He needed it so bad. “I can work for you, sir!” he blurted. “I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed himself, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. Casey fell silent, hopeful, tense, waiting. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started.” Casey’s heart leapt for joy. “Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Okay, well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs.“ And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got. ” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young. ” “Pleeeeeaazzze…. . ” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whatchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. “Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, fuckface,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em. ” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s tiny, heavily packed posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small. ” “You must be used to it by now. ” “You never get used to it. ” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care? I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh. ” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself. ”Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant the nebbishy rich boyTyrone had both big bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. His cheeks bloomed with the pressing pressure of double cockheads. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt. ” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, back and forth, his face being buffeted by heavy cock slaps. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, first sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," crooned Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up his pants, putting his heavy, dripping cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles headed back towards his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. “Now!” called out Miles, without looking back. “And use your tongue.” Tyrone leapt eagerly to the matted floor and did as he was told. ***** Click here to read the full chapter!
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