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Found 2 results

  1. This is my first story. It's going to have bite sized chapters and very regular updates (most likely daily). This is a m/m superhero romance. The first two chapters are mostly set up, but after that every chapter has plenty of sexy muscle and feats of strength, so please stick with it! Chapter 1 It began as all the best love stories do: with terrorism. The 24th of March 2013 is much like any other day. Hugo Chavez recently died, triggering what would go on to become an economic crisis in Venezuela, the UN security council has just slammed North Korea with harsh new sanctions, Justin Timberlake is topping the charts with ‘Mirrors’, protestors are waving signs outside Parliament, protesting about something, pigeons are shitting, rain is pouring, and I'm on my way to work. The newly opened Shard is difficult to miss. It towers over London’s skyline, jutting into the clouds like the lair of a comic book villain. I make my way inside, flashing my ID as I go. ‘Jake Langley’, it says in large capital letters, along with an employee number and my date of birth. I only show it as a courtesy - the security guards have all memorised my face by now. I sometimes wonder what they think of me. Am I ‘that cute, fresh faced little pastry chef with the dimples’ or do they just see me as a child straight out of college, coasting by on boyish looks, with no clue what he’s doing? I’d like to think it was the former. I’d like to. But I don’t. I wish I was the kind of guy who had the guts to ask. The kind who knows he's good enough, who knows he's not going to be rejected or shut down. But even if I wasn't gay, I will never be that kind of guy. It's not in my nature. I'm not assertive or domineering. I smile, wave, and make pastry. That's my nature. I slip by in this hyper masculine world by being too small for anyone to see as a threat. And for the most part, it works. The kitchens still shine like the day they were installed, which wasn't that long ago. Most kitchens are crowded, starkly lit places where you can barely move an inch without bumping into someone or knocking something over, but not this one. Natural light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, treating us to a view of London that millions of people would kill for. But I'm not here for the views. Okay, maybe a little bit. But mostly, I'm here to do my job. I find my little corner and start preparing for the day’s guests. It's a Sunday, so we're expecting a lot of traffic. There isn’t an overpaid banker in London who doesn’t salivate over the idea of lunch at the Shard. Russian oligarchs, Saudi oil barons, British royalty, Colombian drug lords - we serve them all. I don’t care who they are or what they do. It's none of my business. It sounds like a simple, boring job - making pastry. You’d be surprised at how much there is to it. There’s a reason they have pastry chefs – this is a difficult thing to get right. It's always come easily to me. I find something calming about rolling out a sheet of puff, spreading on the butter, folding it over, and rolling it out again. There's a rhythm to it. My movements soon become mechanical and I can feel myself floating away into a distant world where I'm someone interesting, somewhere interesting, doing something interesting. The kitchen hums around me as the first orders come in. Pans clink, hobs fizzle, water gurgles as it boils. I can barely hear the orders being barked over it all. But I'm not really paying attention. Boom. I can feel a wave of pressure pass through my feet, up to my head, and down again. Everything is shaking; the walls, the floor, the windows. Pots rattle above my head on their hooks. I turn to see the kitchen staff frozen, eyeing one another with pointed glares. I don't think I've ever seen this room so quiet. “What was that?” I hear one of them whisper, his voice carrying clear across the room. No one answers. Was it an earthquake? It couldn’t be. Earthquakes aren’t instantaneous, they're gradual. Then it comes again, much louder. BOOM. I don’t know if it's the ringing in my ears or the shaking beneath my feat, but I'm suddenly hunched over a table, flour covering my hands, gasping for breath. I don't know how long I spend there, trying to comprehend what's going on. It must be a minute or two, at least. My daze is broken as an alarm whirrs into life, high pitched and screaming. Red lights flash. All at once, the shock turns to chaos. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. They're coming faster now, from all over the building. I can feel them in my bones. While others run for the doors, I huddled under my table. What the hell is going on? My eyes drift to the windows, where black smoke is billowing up past our floor, carrying dust and paper. Fuck. I watched 9/11 unfold on live TV and I was here when they locked down London during the 7/7 attacks. It's impossible to ignore the reality of what's going on. This is a terrorist attack. I can see dark shapes floating past outside, just beyond the smoke. Choppers. News choppers. When I had dreamed of appearing on TV, I was thinking more along the lines of Deal or No Deal, not this. Anything but this. I'm now alone in the kitchen. I don't know when that happened. I presume everyone else has fled. My gaze flickers to the open door as I try to decide what to do. Maybe if I run now, I could get out before the building collapses. Or maybe the lower floors are experiencing the worst of it, and I'm best waiting up here while the blaze is brought under control. Is there anything here I could turn into a parachute? No, I scold myself. That’s pointless and stupid. I’d never break through those windows anyway. Turning on my phone, I check the BBC. The first result is a live video of the Shard, burning in a dozen places. The news anchors are speaking but I can’t hear a word of it. I watch the screen in horror as the fire begins to creep outward from the explosion sites. One of them is pretty close to this kitchen. Placing my hands on the ground, I feel warmth. There’s a rumbling sensation. Something is crackling not far from our door. As fast as I can, I slam it shut, backing away with a hiss as the handle burns my skin, leaving it red and blotchy. Now there’s smoke trickling in through the vents and the air is getting hazy. Pulling a wet cloth over my mouth, I run around the kitchen and turn on all the taps and block all the drains. They overflow one by one, spilling out onto the floor until there’s a pool of water an inch deep. This won’t save me, but it might slow the spread. It’s getting seriously hot in here. I clutch my burned hands around the wet cloth, which eases the pain, but nothing can stop the coughing fits. There’s soot clogging my lungs and in my eyes, causing them to water uncontrollably. The air is so thick now that I can barely see from one end of the room to the other. My only sign that the door has buckled is the red tongues of flame licking at the ceiling. At the same time, I’m hit by a wave of heat so overwhelming that my only option is to curl up on the floor and cover my face as I feel the skin of my back start to blister. Then something astonishing happens. Something so unusual that I wonder if I’m hallucinating. There's a silhouette visible through the smoke. A man. He's enormous, and seems completely unphased by the fire caressing every inch of his body. His eyes find me on the floor, and a look of relief flits across his face. I blink, and he’s suddenly leaning over me. How did he move so fast? I open my mouth to ask, but only a ragged cough comes out. Two huge arms gently scoop me up. I press my face into his chest to escape the heat. Somehow even in the middle of a burning skyscraper, his touch makes me feel safe. Protected. Isn’t that strange? I hear the sound of shattering glass, feel a rush of cold air on my neck. The arms wrap more tightly around me. The lurching in my stomach tells me we’re moving, and I try to look around, but one hand on the back of my head keeps me locked to his chest. As the adrenaline fades, my body starts to scream in pain. I’ve never felt such agony. It’s only a matter of time before blackness is creeping into my vision, clouding my mind. And then I’m gone.
  2. MUSCLE DADDY a romantic muscle growth story co-written by @Astromuscle, @canon & @raphi0508, with the inspiration of @Marquis Whew, finally I am back I thought when I set my bag down on my dorm bed. Too bad that my old roommate got suspended cause it got out he was taking roids. As I unpacked my belongings, before I had to attend my first class this afternoon, I thought back and remembered how cool it was to live with my old roommate. He was 5ft11 and weighed 200lbs at the beginning of college, though he told me secretly he wanted to grow with the help of steroids and that he had a good source. True to his word he did grow. At the beginning he had the body of a typical high school football jock. Nice bulging 17’’ arms, wide shoulders, pretty solid and ripped legs and a nice bubble butt. And best of all was his big bulge. In those three years everything changed for me. He grew 40lbs of pure muscles in just one year. After three years, he weighed an astounding 270lbs and had developed the body of an Olympia-level bodybuilder. Watching him grow, arms getting bigger and more defined, chest getting puffier. I was horny a lot, and I often jacked off just thinking of him. He was also the reason I discovered I was gay. He became very confident in his body, needless to say. He began strolling around naked in our room, and I got many mental images to help me jack off to. Pumped muscle, huge roid gut, and thankfully the roids didn’t seem to affect his junk, hanging large from his body. The problem with him was that he was as straight as an arrow. Nearly every week he had another girl with him in bed, and word was afterwards every girl couldn’t help but talk about his huge cock. I couldn’t blame them he was huge, at least 10’’ from what I could tell from him strolling around our room, not concerned that I was staring wide eyed., I wish I had gotten the chance to feel the large cock, make it inflate, and cup those large balls in my hand. Maybe the college found out about his steroid abuse because it got to be too obvious. As he left we promised each other we would stay in contact, but life came in my way and I had to earn money during summer. Now the new and hopefully last college year has started, but I am sure I will find some time to meet him again soon. I wonder if he continued to grow in the meantime. I drifted away from the things I had to do and got a boner. I hope that I will have enough time before my new roommate arrives, to get off, because hiding my 8.5’’ boner is not easy. Maybe my new roommate is a small dweeb, then my hard on would probably go down fast enough he wouldn’t see it. Suddenly some knocks on the door made me jump up surprised. Even more so I was shocked as my new roommate walked in. Fortuna was generous with me, because he was the most massive guy I had ever seen. He had to turn sideways to get through the doorway. In front of me stood the most impressive and beautiful man I saw in my life until now. The large man squared himself to me after having entered, effectively cutting off my view of the door. Each arm was carrying suitcases that were making his forearms bulge, each muscle standing out, held in place by a net of veins crossing each other and drawing my eyes up his arms, huge biceps and triceps thickened around his arm, a muscle hoody hid the rest of the body a little although i could see some big pecs heaving out from his chest, the hoodie draping over it, hiding whether he had abs, or a gut. My penis twitched at the thought of ripping off the shirt to find out. After a second sizing me up he dropped his bags with a loud thud and reached out his hand. “Hi, I am Mark. I’m guessing we will be roommates this year. Nice to meet you”. I reached out and we shook hands. Damn he has such a strong grip. His hand was larger than mine, thick muscular fingers didn’t give at all to my pressure, and I could feel weight lifting calluses. I was sure we could become good friends. He let go of my hands and bent over to pick up his bags. My penis jumped again. His back is so wide and that ass looks so hard, where do I stare...I quickly shoved my hand into my pants to shove my penis to somewhere less conspicuous while he had his back turned. I had to move to let him by as he passed I noticed my eyes barely met the top of his shoulders, seeing his large delts pulling the fabric of his hoodie forward and back as he carried the heavy bags. After we both had finally unpacked we sat down and started to talk. Mark told me that he is here because he got a Football scholarship, but he also told me that he really wanted to do bodybuilding instead, like his dad does. He enthusiastically described how big his dad was and how small he was compared to him. He also mentioned that he got the good genes of his dad, and expects to start growing bigger soon. The muscle talk made me pretty horny again, I was very thankful that I was sitting down. During our talk we both found out that we have most of our classes together, even the first one of the new year. We continued talking for a while, until we had a sudden shock because we had nearly missed our first class While I was getting ready Mark suddenly dropped his jogging pants to change into jeans. If I thought my old room mate was big, then Mark was a freak. His quads, calves and bulge were huge. I couldn’t stop my jaw from dropping. Mark had been in a rush, but noticed me sitting in awe. He smile confidently at me, turning to give me a better view., “Pretty impressive, huh? You can thank my dad’s good genes for this thing too, though he is much bigger.” Then he gave me a wink, causing me to blush. I used far more willpower than it should have taken to close my mouth. Once he stopped teasing me and got ready, we both left for class. During the year, we got even more connected. We got to be pretty close friends. Unfortunately for me again, he was also straight. I tried not to let on that I was gay, hoping it would make him more comfortable. If he knows I’m gay he might not take off his pants in front of me anymore either, which would be a tragedy. We both started to workout together after Mark mentioned he really needed a spotter at the gym, and so our friendship got closer because of it. I was unsure how good of a spotter I was being, but Mark didn’t seem to mind, and he spotted me in turn. Luckily I was also benefiting from the workouts growing more athletic myself and began sporting some good pecs and my arms were gaining some definition. Throughout the year I also got to see more of Mark. When he had arrived I had only seen those heavy arms of his, and later his privates. In retrospect I had wished I could have noticed his legs at the time, but I had been hyper focused on his manhood. As it turned out I didn’t need to worry, since much like my last roommate, Mark had no boundaries. I got many opportunities to appreciate Mark’s entire body as he would stroll around naked in our room. Is this a jock thing? I don’t walk around in the nude. Maybe I would if I looked like that I guess. His wide back held his arms out away from his body a little, a nice V-taper going down to his ass. I also discovered he did indeed have a flat stomach, abs like bricks holding up the large chest and shoulders with a solid foundation. His ass was muscular and even at rest you could see the muscles through any slight amount of fat he may have housed there. Large, powerful quads came out of his tight waist, bounding up and coming in tight to his knees. Diamond calves pressed hard against his skin behind his shins, more veins becoming apparent as if the skin needed help to contain the muscle. If I thought Mark had even one atom of gay in him I would worship those muscles in every way my brain could come up with, but sadly I had to settle for keeping some tissues near my bed for when he walked into the bathroom for a shower. During our workouts Mark could not stop talking about his dad, and the more often we worked out the more he told me about how big his dad was and how much bigger he wanted to grow. Mark said one day he hoped to get bigger than his dad, but he told me he wasn’t sure if he ever could. This was one of the only times Mark seemed insecure about anything, and I comforted him telling him one day he would surely outgrow his old man. Despite my word the more he talked about his dad, the more curious I got and the more I wanted to meet the man who could supposedly dwarf the muscle man in front of me. Was it really possible that his dad was that much bigger than Mark? Mark was already an alpha jock. Thinking about his dad being even bigger made my cock grow bigger in my pants every time. Luckily I wore tight spandex under my workout clothes at the gym, where Mark gushed the most about his dad the most. It kept my cock and balls in place. Thank god. As the end of the semester came around, Mark suddenly asked me if I would want to join him during spring break. We could continue working together at his house, in his dad’s home gym. I quickly agreed, mind taken up by the idea that I could finally meet his huge dad. “I would love to join you. You need a spotter after all I guess.” He smiled at me and I blushed. God does he realize that I’m gay? ...to be continued...
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