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  1. Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend Chapter 24 Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets February 10th, 2022 2100 Hours Casey and Sam were close together now, each intent upon the other, Sam sitting calmly, Casey nervous, towering over him, his huge dick released from his trousers. lying on the table between them. “You …you don’t think I’m a freak?” “I think you’re beautiful,” said Sam. Casey stared at him, and then blurted it out. “Okay, well, then, would you mind, I mean, is it okay if you suck on this awhile?” He shifted back and forth on his feet nervously. This surprised even Sam. “What?” “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but, you see, I really need to get it sucked by someone new, someone from the outside, ‘cause when the guys here suck cock, we all do it together, you know, in a big room or the lab or the gym or the cafeteria or for Dr. Shaft at his house, or for investors…” “Investors?! Wait. This is a lot of information. Slow down.” “Sorry.” “You…. all suck cock here? Each other’s cocks?” “All the time. Daily. Once in the morning, once late at night. Sometimes after training. Sometimes at lunch. Sometimes before dinner. Sometimes after dinner. Sometimes during dinner.” He paused. The words were rushing out. “We suck cock a lot.” “Why?” Casey shrugged. “We like it. Don’t you?” Sam had to admit that he did. “And it’s good for cum production. We each shoot about three quarts a week.” “That’s impossible.” “Not for us. Yeah. We do. On slow weeks.” “Zaftig said you don’t have sex.” Casey snorted. “Yeah, right, dude, he would say that. Sex is what we’re made for.” “Come again?” “It’s what we’re made for.” “What does that mean?” “It means we’re made to fight, fight hard, win, and make our defeated enemies suck our cocks. Then we pose for them. Then we kill them.” He paused. “Or, we’re supposed to, anyway. In theory.” “Shit. Fight, win, get sucked, kill, pose?” “No. Fight, win, pose, get sucked…. kill. But we never have yet. Though we’ve come close. Sometimes we beat the investors up. A little. If they want it…” This was getting weird. Exciting, crazy, nuts, wild, but weird. “Okay, go back a second.” Casey shifted his weight again, and his heavy cock dragged audibly along the tabletop. Sam stared at it. “As I said, go back a little…. who are these investors?” But Casey had caught his look. He pointed to his dick, now lying flat and at rest on the tabletop, lying still like an enormous thick snake. “At least touch it. Put your hand on it. Touch it. Stroke it. Make it warm.” He took Sam’s hand and clapped it firmly on the massive round shaft. “Play with it. Make it hard.” He paused, then added, seeming to plea. “Please?” “Okay.” Sam stared a moment up at Casey. “Okay,” he said, after a moment. “If this is what you want.” He put his hand on the penis. It sure was big. Like a fleshy log. And warm. And very thick. And covered with veins. An amazing machine. “Please. Play with it. Play with my dick. Just for a minute.” Just for a minute? How about an hour? How about for the next ten years? This was going better than Sam had dared to dream. “Sure. But you gotta do something for me.” As if Casey wasn’t fulfilling every dream he’d ever had. “Flex for me.” He started to stroke the big cock lightly with the back of his fingers. Casey jumped a little at his first touch. Then Sam looked up at him, suddenly tense, ready, watching. “Wait. You make your opponent suck your cock, and then you kill him?” “Oh. Oh! Don’t worry!!” Casey extended his hands pleadingly. “We haven’t killed anyone. Yet. I mean, the dudes fight a lot. Karim hands out a lot of black eyes. But I wouldn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t want to hurt your little finger!” To prove his point, suddenly he gently grabbed the back of Sam’s head and pulled him towards him, planting a long passionate kiss on him. Sam couldn’t have been more surprised, but he kissed back. They locked lips and their tongues explored each other’s mouths. All the while, Sam kept gently stroking Casey’s penis. It grew stiff under his hand. Finally they parted, and Casey sat back, looking deeply into Sam’s green eyes, Sam’s hand resting gently on the thick barrel of penis on the table between them. “Look. See, I really wanted to meet you after I heard about you, I’ve wanted to meet you a long time, for more than a year, but I can never get a pass or get out alone, and I didn’t know you anyway, and you would have thought I was strange or something, and I didn’t know where you lived…” As the words tumbled out, his penis grew larger and stiffer under Sam’s probing, gentle fingers. Slowly it began to rise from the table surface. “You see, all the men said that you were the best cocksucker anywhere, and I knew if I could meet you first before they did, then you could suck my cock first, and for once I’d have something over them, and then maybe they wouldn’t fuck me so hard.” Sam was appalled. “Wait. WAIT. Slow down.” His mind reeled. What to ask first? “They fuck you? “ “Yeah. They all fuck me. They fuck me hard.” Casey’s penis was now poling towards the ceiling. “Where did you hear I was such a great cocksucker?” “Well, they all say that.” Sam had to acknowledge that this was probably true. He let it go. “What do you mean, you all suck cock for Dr. Shaft??!” “Once a month a couple of vans take us all to his house and we party awhile. Usually we wind up sucking cock while Shaft watches us and beats off.” “And they fuck YOU? “Yeah! They all get to fuck me. Me and now Tiffany, too. I changed that. I fucked him first.” Casey smiled, and an evil glint appeared in his eye as he recalled the night. Then he continued. “Sometimes the younger guys come along if I’m tired or something and they fuck them instead. But me, mostly me, I get it more than anyone. Everyone gets to fuck me – well, not the cadets, they’re not allowed to. And I don’t get to fuck anyone! I’m supposed to be buttboy! When we’re at Dr. Shaft’s first he sucks my cock. Then they all take turns and suck my cock – except the cadets, they don’t have the privilege yet, but I think a few of them get to suck Moster’s cock in his quarters sometimes. He really needs it. And when I shoot, they measure how much I cum. I’m not supposed to shoot until all 19 men have sucked me. Sometimes I cum early. When that happens,……” Casey paused. “What?” asked Sam, disbelieving. “…. . then they make me start over with Dr. Shaft again.” “Wow.” “Yeah, wow. I hate his cock. It’s so little! Someday I’m gonna beat the shit out of him. I would kill him with one punch. Pow!” “Easy.” “I’m sorry.” “No, I mean you would kill him easy.” “I would! It all pisses the shit out of me. Then they fuck me. Shaft watches. Two, three times each. My asshole hurts. It pisses me off!” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m gonna run away,” he confided. This was getting dangerous. Sam was on guard now. But he had to know. “Why do they fuck you?” he asked. “Why me?! I’ll show you why me!” He turned around and bent over, his perfect butt now in Sam’s face. He slid the jeans down his hams. He kicked them off and stood, his back to Sam, his fists buried in his obliques, jutting out his butt. It was an incredible ass. Two round globes of muscular golden flesh, perfect, hard-as-nails ovals of sleek construction. Powerful, huge, an incredible human loading dock of rounded power. Inside the darkened buttcrack Sam could see close-up the throbbing, inviting deep of Casey’s perfect butthole. It did, however, appear as if it could use a rest. And yet…. it also looked as if it might never get tired. Sam closed his eyes and for a moment he envisioned a lineup of 19 muscle men, each awaiting the business of the hard-pumping man at the head of the line, and in time, all taking their turn with this bodybuilder’s magnificent young ass. Fucking, fucking, fucking, shooting quarts of cum, the first man stepping aside, the next men stepping up and inserting his own stout pole into the welcoming red butthole. Fucking, fucking, fucking. Fucking muscle butt. “…. Do you enjoy it? ….” Casey considered a minute. He glanced back over his shoulder at Sam. He gulped - and then he went for it. He extended his arms straight ahead, bent over forward from the waist, and grabbed his ankles. “What do you think?” he asked sadly. *********** Meanwhile, down the corridor, Moster was addressing the muscular young cadets in his private compound suite. “Okay, men,” said Moster breezily, “suppose one of you tells me the real reason you’re here. Cadet Banks, you seem to be the spokesman. Suppose you talk.” The teen cadets stood shyly before Moster, their hands at ease behind their backs, their legs spread wide. He strode between them and inspected their supple young physiques. He was wear his black leather poser again, the top eight inches of his cockshaft fully exposed from the root, plunging down to the floor with pulsing veins, disappearing into black leather. His testicles filled the pouch to bursting. Taylor was trying hard not to stare. “You looking at my cock, cadet?” “No, sir.” “Bullshit.” “We just wanted to make sure you were not displeased, sir,” offered Banks. “Displeased? No, I am not displeased.” He walked around the young men silently for a moment, inspecting. Nice bottoms, he thought, cleanly outlined in tight khakis. Firm. Quite spankable. Very fuckable. “How old are you boys?” “18” said Banks. “I’m 17,” said Taylor. “Old enough to know better than disturb me in quarters.” Then he ordered again. “Let’s see what you boys got. Drop trou,” he commanded. The two teens unbuckled their belts swiftly, unzipped, pushed, and in unison, their khakis hit the tops of their boots. They were each wearing clean white jocks. Both teens were already excited enough to present full pouches, but not so erect as to be overtly disrespectful. “Flex.” They eagerly did so. Young, hard, muscleboy biceps swelled and popped. Banks went smoothly into a side chest pose, of which he was justifiably proud. His young nipples pointed low as his balloon pecs were rounded high and with pleasant hints of future deep striations to come – if one could see beneath the thick black mat of chest hair. Taylor turned and went into a rear lat spread. His wide young batwings opened to their fullest, and his glutes pointed round, hard, and high. “Impressive. Good, solid teen muscle. You must enjoy fucking the local girls. You boys are making definite gains. Banks, I see you don’t shave your body.” Moster sniffed. “And you’re still smoking.” “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” “Quit. Bad habit. All the same, good work. Okay. That will be all. Dismissed.” He turned away. The boys didn’t see his smile. The cadets dropped their poses, glanced at each other in alarm. Taylor gestured. “Ask him!” he mouthed furiously. Banks spoke again. “Sir, we were hoping…. that is….” “Yes, Banks?” Taylor blurted it out. “We were hoping you’d pose for us, sir.” Moster had to smile in spite of himself. The effrontery! Still, such a request in two such young men was not uninteresting. “You’d like me to pose for you. I see.” Banks smirked a little. Moster caught it, and his face went blank, the smile disappearing. “Why, I suppose I might spare a few minutes.” “…Are you certain you are not in need of….” Moster raised an eyebrow. “…. . releasing some personal tension, sir?” “I told you that I am not tense.” “Respectfully begging the CO’s pardon, sir, it would appear that you are, all the same, in need of some therapeutic stress reduction, sir.” “Are you being impertinent, cadet?” “No, sir! Sir, I……. sir…. .” Banks looked helpless for a moment. It was Taylor who finally spoke. “Sir, requesting permission to speak freely, sir.” “Well, what is it?” “Sir, we desire that you should spank us both, sir.” “Why would you want that?” “Sir, to make you feel better, sir. And after that, sir, we’d like to take turns sucking your dick.” “I see. This is for my benefit. This display of teen muscle and firm cadet butt. And I am to pose for you. After a good spanking. Right? That it? All right. Let’s get started, then. Banks, you’re up first.” Moster turned back and pulled out a solid blue steel low bench he reserved for the application of his sternest spankings. He sat, and adjusted his relaxed 14-inch black cock in the black leather so that it snaked heavily across the top of one thigh. He gazed at the boys, and raised both arms into a front double biceps. Pow. BAM. “Like what you see, boys?” “Yes, sir!” breathed Taylor. Moster laughed. “28 inches. Get your butts over here. Banks, you're up first.” Moster grinned with grim satisfaction. "I've been wanting to teach your greaser butt a lesson for some time now." Banks approached eagerly, and Moster ignored his obvious puppy dog joyousness at being initiated before his time. “Over my knee, cadet,” he ordered. “Yes, sir!” Banks flung himself over Moster’s powerful knees. He felt the CO’s heavy warm cock pressed thickly against his abs. He arched his back slightly and tilted his butt up to the ceiling all to better receive his punishment. Slowly Moster raised his powerful arm high and opened his hand wide. His palm itched. He checked out the healthy, firm jockbutt that lay submissively across his knees and nodded, satisfied. “Very good work, cadet,” he said, and lowered his hand with firm swiftness. SMACK! Taylor jumped. Banks moaned. “These glutes look good,” said Moster. “Thank you, sir!” Then, SMACK! again, and again, and again. “Powerful, ripe, and firm,” Moster praised the cadet. “OOOHHhhhh…” moaned Banks. SMACK! Moster paused a little. “Why, anything the matter, cadet?” “It hurts, sir!” “What hurts?” “My butt, sir! It stings, sir!” Moster’s palm was calloused and heavy from years of spanking the men. He raised his hand again and planted another stingingly loud smack onto Cadet Banks’ increasingly reddening firm young butt cheeks. “Of course it stings,” he said. “What did you expect?” …. Spank!……. Spank!. . . . . . . . . Spank!…. Some minutes later, it was Taylor’s turn to lie meekly over Moster’s knees. His legs dangled helplessly in the air. Moster reviewed the teen’s muscular butt with approval. “You boys have developed fine flanks for yourselves,” he opined, and began to spank. The blows feel on firm glutes again and again, achieving an even, unyielding, implacable rhythm. …. Spank!……. Spank!. . . . . . . . . Spank!…. Spank!. . . . . . …. Beneath his abs, Taylor felt Moster’s thick penis stiffening…. harder, larger, heavier, weightier…inconceivably big. After 20 spanks, Taylor stood, rubbing the red welts on his rear, tears in his eyes. He glanced at Banks. “You said this would be fun,” he hissed. “Well, ain’t it?” Banks gestured down at the seated CO. He pointed. “Just look at that!” Taylor turned and stared. Moster’s penis was enormous, an uncoiled black cobra lying half exposed, half enmeshed in his posers, atop an impossibly vascular, striated quadriceps. The mushroom-shaped head was the size of a ripe McIntosh apple, and the shaft as thick as a vein-lined fire hose. “Like what you see, cadets?” “Yes, sir!” said Banks. “Fuckin’ A,” said Taylor. “There will be time for you both to show your respect for my cock in a very few minutes. In the mean time, Banks, I believe it is your turn at bat?” Moster alternated spanking the two young cadets, back and forth, for several minutes. During Banks’s second turn over the CO’s knee, Taylor stood waiting respectfully in the corner, his hand rubbing the red welts on his smooth, bright red, hard ass cheeks. After Taylor came Banks again, and this time Moster disciplined him even harder for not shaving his buttcheeks, spanking tough boy Banks for a full three minutes longer than he spanked Taylor for his second turn. It was what Banks had hoped for. Tomorrow was leg day, and he planned on training his stinging glutes as hard as he could. Tonight was all about glute-building inspiration. Moster had been spanking the two men alternately for about 20 minutes. Spank! Spank! “Next time, think twice before banging on my door at ungodly hours,” he said firmly. Spank! Spank! SPANK!! Six minutes later he finished with Taylor, and pushed him off. Taylor rolled heavily onto the floor and brought both hands up tenderly to his stinging butt. He crawled away. Moster gestured impatiently for Banks to step forward and receive his fourth punishment. Banks hung back, apprehensive, in spite of himself. “Get your candyass little butt over here before I come over there and drag you by your hair, you fucking greaser.” Banks trotted over, his head bowed, his hands behind his back. He lay across Moster’s knees once again. His red butt throbbed painfully. Bright red handprints glowed on each buttcheek. “Spank me again, please, sir,” he said. Moster complied. He paddled Banks’ hard little butt stingingly for three solid minutes more. The sounds of his palm slapping the cadets’ hardened musclebutts echoed down the corridor. In his darkened quarters, Corporal Schumacher lay in his bed and listened intently, his shorts around his knees and his cock poling high to the ceiling. He jerked off hard at the sound. Moster sure was busy tonight. “Uuunnngh!” he roared, and he shot ropes of thick cum onto his abs, his gism leaping into the darkness and falling, splashing his abs. At the other end of the corridor, Alvarez, Lang and Hension were still feverishly posing, flexing, and sucking one another’s cocks, musically accompanied by the drumbeat of distant spanks. In his suite, Casey paused in his story to Sam. The loud spanks were echoing throughout the compound. Both looked towards the corridor door. “What’s that?” “Sergeant Moster is probably spanking some butt. He likes to do that.” “Oh.” Sam turned back to Casey, huge in his chair, hulking, self-conscious suddenly at his enormous size when sitting next to the handsome, lean-muscled Ensign. Sam spoke delicately. “Go on about that LA field trip. ” “Okay. We get worship sessions in San Francisco and LA. Some young tech stars and a few movie people. Dudes with money. Real money.” “They pay you to flex.” “Yeah. And, um, more, too.” All in all, Moster devoted 30 minutes to the firm paddling of cadet butts. At the end, Moster’s cock was just as hard as it had been 31 minutes before. His erection hadn’t wavered an instant, or by so much as a millimeter. He stood, pushing Banks off his knees and onto the floor, bent over and rolled Taylor over onto his back. Then he kicked Banks into position. Both men were now under him, and facing up. He lowered his posers in the back so that his magnificent rock hard glutes were exposed. He slowly lowered himself into a squat, hovering just a foot over Banks’ face. “This is an ass,” he announced, perhaps unnecessarily. Banks stared hungrily at the musclebutt suspended over him. He reached his tongue out and tried to lick, but Moster held it steadily above him. “This is big, black, big muscle ass,” Moster repeated, and he rotated his body until his ripped musclebutt was looming over Taylor’s face. "Hard as rock." Taylor, too, tried to lick, to no avail. For five minutes, Moster squatted over the heads of the cadets. He farted softly, breezily in their faces. They took it in. He bobbed. He swayed. He dipped. He pulled apart his ass cheeks. He showed them his pink, vibrating asshole. “And this is butthole,” he explained. “You want it?” “Yes, sir!” both men shouted. “Okay, then. Heads together.” The teens scrambled. He positioned himself firmly over their faces and lowered his magnificent butt closer. The teens breathed in the butt aroma deeply, licking the cheeks, lightly smacking and pawing. Moster sat down hard on their faces. The cadets paid no attention to the pain. Instead, they both groaned deeply in pleasure. Moster glanced up at the clock. “I will be sitting on each of your faces for five minutes.” “Yes, sir!” “Worship my ass.” The teens did so eagerly: licking, stroking, spitting, and kneading, lightly smacking Moster’s powerful glutes. “Incredible butt, sir!” “Awesome shape and size, sir!” “It’s hard as steel, sir!” “I know, men. Keep at it.” “Permission to jack off, sir!” they both cried out. “Permission granted. But make sure neither of you cum. Not yet.” In unison the teens popped their poling, stiff dicks free from their khakis and began pumping their hardened young manmeat. When five minutes of assplay were up, Moster rose slowly and pulled up his posers, covering the corona of his massive cockhead with the groaning poser pouch. He picked Taylor up wholly from the floor, and positioned him on his knees in front of his cock. “Hunh?” mumbled the confused Taylor. “Are we finished with your butt, sir?” “You are. You will now start on my cock.” Moster guided the young cadet’s face into his looming cockbulge. “Lick it,” he commanded. “You’re my plaything.” Taylor nodded eagerly and began to expertly glide his tongue over the bulging Spandex. Moster issued more commands to Banks, who was scrambling to his feet. “Get yourself hard and start fucking this boy’s butt,” he directed. “Sir, my dick is hard,” said Banks. “You call that hard? Work it. I want to see it hard.” Taylor, sucking deeply, moaned softly. Banks worked his stiff dick furiously. He reached out and probed the reddened muscle cheeks of Taylor’s magnificent young bottom. He could clearly make out Moster’s still bright-red handprints, striking nearly every time as he had on precisely the same surface of each buttcheek. He knew his own smarting butt looked the same. He pulled on his cock, bringing it out to its full 9-inch hardness. Once upon a time, he envisioned that he had a pretty big cock. But it was nothing compared to Moster’s. Or to Casey Rockland’s, dammit. It was big enough to do the job, though. He spit in his palm and rubbed it furiously on the tip of his cock two or three times. “Use the oil, cadet. Behind you.” Moster’s cock, still sheathed in dripping white Spandex, was plunging in and out of Taylor’s mouth. Moster was pumping evenly. “Get ready.” Banks found the oil and oiled up his penis. It looked pretty good at that, he thought, and remembered that in the real world, he had been the favorite all his young life of size queens everywhere. He waved it back and forth and approached Taylor’s rounded butt, pointing outward and ready to receive. He smacked it against the cadet’s rounded buttcheeks. Taylor was sucking feverishly. “Sir,” he breathed, “Permission to remove your posing trunks, sir.” “Permission denied. Banks, you ready yet?” “Sir, pleeeeasssee, sir…. . Taylor pleaded. “What did I say? Banks, you get yourself ready to fuck this young cadet. And be advised that once you’re done, you’re gonna face my dick, too, both front and back.” He looked down at Taylor. “You’ll get fucked last. And hardest.” “Sirrr……” Taylor moaned. “Expose your butthole, cadet.” “Yes, sir….” Taylor reached back and pulled the strap of his jock clear of his eager young asshole. It winked invitingly up at Banks, poised above. “Fuck that butt, cadet.” “Yes, sir!” In one stroke, Banks reared back and slid his dick deeply into Taylor’s not-so-cherry butthole. “AAAHHHH!!!” Taylor screamed. It was the moment Moster had been waiting for. His spandex suit ripped powerfully and tore away, and his fully erect 20-inch cock cannonballed past Taylor’s gently parting lips and crammed itself deeply down into his throat. “MMMGGGRRRRMMMAAACCCKPHH” Taylor groaned. “Let’s get busy, Cadet,” said Moster calmly. “Yes, sir,” said Banks. He spit on his dick and began to slowly fuck his buddy’s butt. Down the hall, six more of the musclemen of Project Herculaneum lay in their cots and listened to the commands, shouts and moans coming from Moster’s quarters, and jerked their pulsing rods furiously. Banks pumped Taylor’s butt powerfully while his buddy sucked Moster’s monster black cock. He was amazed at his own strength, and how big his own cock looked, gliding smoothly, expertly, in and out of muscleboy butthole. But Taylor was busy on his own, licking his CO’s leathery scrotum and sucking the huge shaft, tonguing the cockhead, playing with the pisshole and plunging ever deeper with full-throated sucking. He barely seemed to notice Bank’s steady plunges into his asshole. Moster’s mighty black cock plunged in and out of his mouth. Taylor felt his throat expand with each of the black muscleman’s powerful thrusts. It hurt like hell. He loved it. Every powerful plunge made him harder. Every buttstroke from Banks’ cock made him crazier. Taylor pulled back a little, and began licking Moster’s cock. “You sucking, there, Cadet?” asked Moster. “You sucking my cock? Biggest cock in the United States. Maybe the world. No bigger. Suck it all, now. Take it all in.” Sweat was pouring off the young Taylor, now almost sobbing with pain and pleasure. His mouth hurt with the powerful plunges of 20 inches of steel-stiff penis. Moster’s iron abs rippled and were like shiny armor. He flexed his mountainous biceps and expanded his pecs into iron-like straps of hard, round muscle. Taylor looked up at the gleaming muscle monster above him and sucked his cock feverishly. “Good work, Banks,” said Moster. “Fuck his butthole.” “Yes, sir!” Finally he looked up at Banks. “Now it’s your turn.” He pulled his penis out of Taylor’s mouth and lifted the weakened boy to his feet by his armpits. “Now you fuck him.” “Sir…. I can’t….” “What do you mean, you can’t? Banks, turn around. Show him your butt.” Banks turned obediently, bent over, and jutted his hard little butt out eagerly. He took ahold of each of his ripped buttcheeks and pulled them apart, exposing his pink butthole. Taylor drooled but didn’t dare move. Not yet. “See that beautiful ass? See that muscle ass? You can’t fuck that? What’s the matter with you, boy? Get to it! Now! That’s an order.” “Yes, sir!” said bottomboy Taylor, pleased that at last he’d have a chance to fuck some nice butt himself. He scrambled to his feet and spread his legs wide as Moster strode powerfully around them and shoved his cock into Banks’ mouth and down his wide-open throat. He began face fucking the handsome muscle greaser. Taylor slid his own painfully engorged cock into Banks’ butthole and began to fuck his tight, rockhard, hairy little rear manfully. “How does it feel, cadet?” “Sir, it feels great, sir!” Taylor shouted joyfully, fucking butt like a devil possessed, his teen cock sliding in and out of muscleboy bubblebutt. “Sir, just awesome!” “Good. Fuck that little hard butt of his. Banks, you keep sucking my cock like a good soldier. Fucking greaser, don’t you know you’re lucky to get my cock? Gobble it up, now.” The fucking and sucking went on for some minutes. Moster stepped back, lifted his gigantic arms into a double biceps pose and grinned. “Time to spit roast. Fast moves, boys. On your back, Banks, now! Taylor, don’t let your cock out of his butthole.” In a flash, Banks rolled over, his lips never leaving the Sergeant’s impossibly thick cockshaft. Taylor’s plunging cock, ever hard, stayed firm and deep inside muscular butt. Banks’ insanely beautiful ass tightened around Taylor’s cock, enveloping it, pulling it ever deeper inside. Glutes writhed with erotic ministrations as they were pounded by thick cockshaft, slowly, then more quickly, fucking Taylor with glorious swells and painful tightenings. “Good moves. I expect to see you both training hard tomorrow.” “Yes, sir! Aye aye, Sir!” both cadets shouted, though Banks’ reply was somewhat garbled, now on his back, his fully-stretched throat now receiving a relentlessly plunging 20 inches of rock-hard, vein-pumping, throbbing, leaping, black, pulsating, plundering penis. It was when Moster lifted his hands behind his head and the mammoth muscle man went into a hard, insanely powerful abdominal pose, his cock ever invading Banks’ throat, when both Tayor and Banks lost their loads. Their cannoned cocks launched dual fire hoses of cum at almost the same instant, arcing high to the ceiling, flying, and then descending, splashing their hot cream across the expansive broadness of Moster’s pecs and abs. Banks’ first blast was accompanied with a deep, guttural, loud yell. Taylor's enormous volume of jizz flew at Moster with a, “Fuck! Oh, fuuuuuuck!” Both cadets' faces scrunched with orgasmic bliss, and in seconds, Moster's muscles were dripping with muscleboy semen. Rivers of shiny, creamy white cum landed, splashed and ran down his massive body. Sprays continued until broad streaks of semen flowed over the various carved contours of trapezius, deltoids, pectorals, lats, obliques, and quads all receiving voluminous coatings of cadet cum. Moster smiled as he lowered his hands, still being showered with the adoring jizz that the muscular cadets were shooting at him. He chuckled, “Oh, that’s nice. Is all this cum for me? Very nice, gentlemen. I appreciate the compliment.” The cadets panted, continuing to spray Moster with uncontrollable ejaculations, apparently not paying much attention to Moster’s words. “My, my,” said Moster. “And you boys aren’t even on P-21 yet. Hmmmm…” Moster considered the possibilities, calmly watching globs of semen fly, land, and splash in creamy blobs on his physique. Finally, they were done. “Now watch,” Moster smiled. “Watch the master.” He looked down at his enormous cock, still encased in Banks’ lips. The veiny shaft throbbed with the first signs of the quarts of cum about to be produced. “Oh, no!.....” mumbled Banks, the cock now shaking violently in his mouth. Moster moaned, looked up at the ceiling, and tightened his whole body. His neck bulged with veins. His physique undulated with such potent and vigorous tightening that the two muscleboys could only stare. He lifted his arms into a fierce front double biceps pose. His penis, still deep inside Bank’s mouth, began to blast out shot after shot. The organ exploded like a dam—bursting with cum; its possessor now took it in powerful hands and, plucking from Banks’ lips, angled it away from himself just a bit, blasting its hot, thick liquid onto the two worshippers. He grinned and drenched the men with burst after violent burst of jizz. Within moments, each man was bathed in a white coat of thick, pure semen. Banks and Taylor, individually, had more cum on their body than Moster had, even though Moster had received the ejaculations of both muscleboys, and the cadets had each received only half of Moster’s, the other half down Banks’ throat and pouring from his mouth. The cadets panted to recover from their most violent orgasms; their astounding muscular physiques glistened with sweat and cum. Yet Moster looked as if he hadn’t exerted himself in the least. He smiled. “Ah… There we go. And both of you got quite a workout from all of this, didn’t you.” With a lone fingertip he lifted some of the men’s semen off his chest, and stuck it in his mouth. “Mmmm,” he smiled. He looked at Banks, obviously appreciating his superior officer’s glorious, still undulating physique, and said, “Cadet, you’ll need to report directly to my quarters at 1900 hours tomorrow night. I think you’ll need another spanking. And I’ll maraud your throat again. Right after my workout tomorrow night.” He paused, considering. “I think I’ll blast my biceps first in the gym. They should be at their fullest peaks by the time you get here. Is that satisfactory to you, cadet?” Banks panted. And as if to emphasize the point, he nodded enthusiastically, squirting one last shot of cum out of his pisshole as he mouthed, “Yes… sir.” Taylor looked disappointed. Moster smiled graciously. “Taylor, you may arrive at 2100 hours.” Taylor squirmed with joy, and he, too, shot a final small blast of cum. Moster looked at the wet torsos of the cadets, and then his own. “Gentlemen, now you must clean all of this semen up. You may start with your tongues on each other, and then proceed to me.” The handsome muscleboys hesitated, standing in awkward attention, glancing briefly at one another. It was Taylor who spoke (for, as it happened, Banks’ paralyzed throat rendered him incapable of speech for the next 12 hours). “Sir, if it’s all the same to you, I think we’d like to attend to you first.” Moster considered this. “As you prefer.” He went into a powerful front lat spread, his pecs now full and round and pointing to the ceiling, the semen dripping from his heavy, pouting brown nipples. “You may start with my chest.”
  2. Excerpt fro "The Twenty" Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2021 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. The men’s powerful, over-developed glutes were fully exposed in back. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering, and all around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3. 8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if not as big as Gunst at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle. He was the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set. ” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling. ” “You know what I want. ” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras. ” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here. " The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now. ” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you. ” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome. ” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again. ” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping t-shirt. ****** Click here to read the full chapter!