Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'muscle growth without effort'.
Found 1 result
This is the first narrative fiction I've written in a long time. It's not completely finished, though. I'll continue the story until it is complete so make sure to follow me and this story. I hope you enjoy this. Leave a comment if you have any suggestions on what you'd like to see Bruce do. --Ripped Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 WARNING! Contains snuff. Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Epilogue Black Cat Chapter 1 The Wife lays on the bed on her side, passed out. Her 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 giggle, the bed creeks and the headboard hits the wall with each of my thrusts. “Oh, God! Fuuuuck!” the husband moans under me. I’ve pinned 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 and ramming in deep. “You like that, boy? hmmmggggggrrrrrr. Like getting fucked slow and hard?” The husband moans 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. 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 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 have. 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 to whatever deity he thinks is listening for mercy. 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. Last week 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 close the squeaky back door and yank on the front passenger door until it opens. 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 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 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 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. She started stroking the dashboard. She winked at me and said, “There, there, Reg. Don’t listen to that mean asshole. You still haven’t said how cocksucking bitch-friend’s going to react.” “A FUCKING CAT!” was the reply I got from Val to a text with 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 contently purred while I scratched and rubbed her chin, throat and belly. She wrapped her paws held my arm to make sure I didn’t stop. She especially wanted me to scratch under her new orange-red nylon collar. I try to think why the love of my life would say that as I scroll up the app and see 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 ally downtown. I’m not going to walkaway 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 hear 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 I see her “dog” squeaked and poked his head. “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 hear a cut off yip and look down to see Brenna’s paw pinning Alcaeus’s head to the floor. Her tail swishes and she gives 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 goes flush and her eyes widen 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 mut 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 wrapping 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”?