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  1. The man wrote the number forty-five on the calendar page sitting on the desk and then circled it three times. He stared at what he had jotted down for a long time. It seemed so far away, but after anticipating that day for so many years, what was another month and a half. Pages were quickly flipped – like a movie scene where you move into the future. The turning stopped on a page that was covered in hand drawn stars and the word ‘retirement’ underlined about seven times. The man’s finger ran across the word lovingly – or hesitantly. And then, just as quickly, the pages were moved back to the present date. General Artemis (Art) David Scala returned to the forms on his desk. Paperwork that required his signature. As he put pen to paper, the desk wobbled, causing the man’s signature to go wildly off the line. An expletive was muttered under his breath and then Art slid back his chair and carefully bent forward to readjust the piece of cardboard that had come loose from under one of the legs. He knew that one false move could make his back go out, which usually caused him to hit his head on the metal piece of furniture he had been battling for seventeen years. Once the cardboard had been wedged in place, the General slowly returned to a sitting position – careful to not twist the wrong way. He glanced at his signature – terribly askew – and contemplated asking his assistant, Private Ron Sanders, to print out another copy of the page, but he realized that this was just his obsessive compulsiveness about things being neat and tidy getting the best of him. He glanced at his clock and saw that it was almost time to go down to the lab. “Ron!” “Yes, General.” “Jesus! You scared me. What were you doing – hanging out by the door?” “Yes sir. I saw what time it was.” Damn, this kid was a great assistant. It almost unnerved the General how Ron could anticipate almost everything that his boss would need – from bringing coffee mere seconds before a request was going to be made to opening the office door right when said coffee had run its course and a bathroom was needed. Coffee did that to the General – well, coffee and his age. A need to pee could come on with little warning, but Ron always seemed to be one step ahead and ready to make the General’s dash always successful. A brawny twenty-one-year-old who’s six-foot frame always made Art feel a little intimidated – even though his uniform had so many stars every soldier on the base snapped to attention in his presence. Ron was definitely the son Art Scala had never had. The General, however, never played favorites and, if asked, Ron probably would have said his boss barely noticed him. That was far from the truth. “I have all those papers, here, for you.” “Yes sir,” the young man said as he stepped to the desk to take the folder. “Any news from the lab?” “I’m afraid so, sir. It seems the tests, today, did not go well. Dr. Brown called the latest round a complete failure and thinks they’ll have to return to the drawing board and start over.” “Damn, damn, damn. I bet that put Martha is a terrible mood. I almost want to skip going down there to talk to her.” Martha Brown was brilliant. Art Scala had personally requested she be hired for this job. She was also as much of a perfectionist as he was. She had been working feverishly for six years to find a way to enhance fossil fuels. To make natural gas – what she called – a hundred times stronger than it already was. She wanted to somehow make it last longer, do more work with less effort, to basically become ‘super’ powered. Another setback in her work would not only be discouraging for her, but it was going to make the Pentagon take a closer look at the continually failed work she was doing. Art knew that in forty-five days he would no longer be here to defend her. Whoever was put in his place would probably side with the powers that be and her project would no longer be funded. “I might as well get this over with. Let’s go to the lab, Ron.” “Yes sir.” Art Scala had turned sixty-eight two weeks ago. He had put off retirement for three years in hopes that Martha Brown would have some success. He knew he couldn’t put it off again. Even at retirement age, the General was what the girls in the front office called ‘a catch.’ He was a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, bull of a man with graying temples that only made him more handsome. He could still command respect just from entering the room, but he also knew his king-of-the-pack days were almost over. It took him a lot longer to recover from a cold, he ached for days after a hard workout, and getting out of bed without any aches and pains was impossible. It was time for some younger buck to take the lead at this base. They were a secret facility out in the middle of a desert that was out in the middle of nowhere. Hell, Art didn’t think he could find the place if he didn’t come and go in a helicopter with an excellent pilot. The General didn’t know what it would be like to live back among civilians – in a regular city. He knew he was going to find out in a few months, though. He paused briefly at the door to the lab. Ron, knowingly, waited for his boss to be ready. With a heavy sigh, the General opened the door and went in – followed by his assistant. “What’s the good news, Martha?” the General said when he saw the red-headed brilliant chemist coming towards him. She had been alone in the lab. “General, don’t patronize me. We both know you already heard we haven’t had success. You have the most efficient assistant on the planet. I will steal him one day. I’m really sorry, Art. You deserve better news.” “Oh Martha, you never were one to beat around the bush, were you. I’m sorry for you. What seemed to be the problem – and don’t use all that chemist jargon I don’t understand. Tell it to me in layman’s terms.” “My perfect enhancement formula doesn’t want to get it on with the fossil fuels. It’s like the football team captain is trying to seduce a devout lesbian that hates athletes. It’s like…” “I get the point,” the General said, smiling. “What if you threw in some alcohol? That always helps opposites attract.” “Not in this case, I’m afraid. I think alcohol would dull the power of the enhancement formula – it might not know how to ‘get it on,’ so to speak.” “Then you start over, Dr. Brown. Isn’t your motto “Now you know,” when something goes wrong?” “Yes, it is,” Martha said, smiling, “But we both know you have limited time here and I won’t have the big scary General to fight all the bureaucratic bullies anymore. I’m wondering if I might skip out before you do.” “Nonsense! Start again. Tonight, if you have too. I believe in you. Let’s keep fighting until we can’t anymore. I leave in forty-five days – that’s a lot of time. And the military might be very slow to replace me. You might even have six months to a year. Back to work, my dear.” “Um, Dr. Brown,” Ron said, after clearing his voice, causing both the General and the doctor to turn toward him with looks of surprise. It wasn’t like Ron to interject with a comment. “Have you tried the enhancement formula on anything else besides fossil fuels?” “Like what, Ron?” Martha asked. “I don’t know . . . supplements, foods . . . animals.” “Well, we have tried it on all of those things and more, except animals. We have not gotten clearance to test this on living things . . . well, except micro-organisms. So far, we’ve batted zero on everything. We did have some organisms that seemed to become different after we mixed the formula with them, but then they just returned to normal. It was very discouraging.” “I see,” said Ron, “Thank you.” “Martha, let’s chat a little about your next plan of attack,” the General said, glancing back at Ron – confused by his interruption. He moved Martha off to the side to chat with her, privately. Ron walked around the lab. He had learned a long time ago when his boss needed him to be invisible. And right now, that’s exactly what Ron wanted. He stood to the side, looking at all the testing materials while the General and the doctor spoke. Soon, the General turned and started to exit. Ron followed. When they were back in the hallway the General turned to his assistant. Ron was nervous that he was in trouble . . . that he had overstepped the boundaries. Artemis Scala put his arm around the younger man’s shoulder – something he had never done before. “How about you and I go have a drink at the Officer’s Club, First Lieutenant?” “I can’t go there, sir…” he began, but then he fully comprehended what the General was saying. “Any officer, approved for his promotion, but waiting for the paperwork, can accompany another officer into the club. Section blah, blah, blah of the official military rules on Officer’s Clubs. It came through today, son. Congratulations. You deserve it. I promised I would get this promotion for you before I left and, by god, I did. At least something good has happened today.” “I’m speechless, sir.” “That would be a first, Ron,” the General said, laughing and then they headed out. ********* “May I get the drinks, sir? It would please me a lot.” “Of course, Ron. I’ll have a double whiskey. I need something to make the day a little more tolerable.” Ron walked to the bar and ordered the drinks. He was nervous as hell, this being his first time in the Officer’s Club, but there seemed to be something more. He fumbled around the bar for a little longer than he would have liked, but the General had been busy talking to other officers when Ron got back – so he didn’t notice. Ron handed his boss his drink and there were beads of sweat gathering on his brow. The General thought it was adorable – watching his unflappable assistant become rattled just because he was around all the officers for the first time. They brought their glasses together, the General impressed that Ron asked for the same drink. “To your health,” Art said, smiling. “And to yours, sir,” Ron replied and they both took big gulps. ********* Ron loved the General. Wait – years of therapy had taught Ron to be more precise with his thoughts - Ron was in love with the General – deeply and hopelessly in love. The General counted down the days to his retirement with a little sadness, but mostly with excitement. Ron counted the days with nothing but despair – his own desk calendar marking the time left, as well. Whenever Ron contemplated his boss his hands unconsciously went up to his own nipples and he scraped them with his thumbnails and pinched them hard. Fur covered pecs – seen with secret, furtive glances at the gym. A deep, gravelly voice that made Ron’s ass tighten. A wide he-man bubbled butt, which still ignored gravity even at his age. Thick legs that looked as sturdy as trees. A face that perpetually had a five-o’clock shadow. How could any gay man on earth not fall in love with this man. Of course, Ron had never let his feelings for the older man interfere with his work. Ron was the consummate professional when it came to his job. Everyone told him so. But when he was in the privacy of his own bungalow his desire for the General was not hidden. A stolen used jock kept sealed in a Ziploc bag and taken out for late night sniffing. A flannel shirt not washed since it was taken – worn to bed on cold nights so Ron’s bed smelled like the General. Multiple pictures snapped inconspicuously and printed on special photo paper so they’d last longer. Ron’s shrine to his boss. The private acknowledged and accepted how weird his actions were. He was always as honest with himself as possible. He was simply head-over-heels in love with General Artemis Scala. That’s why he had made the decision to help his boss. He knew the General was getting older. He could see how the love of his life had trouble sometimes rising from a low-sitting chair. He noticed the grimaces on his face the day after hard workouts. He could see that the General was tired. Ron didn’t question his decision to do something about it. He never doubted that he was supposed to find a way to make the General feel better. He even decided that being court-martialed for insubordination would be justified – in his mind – if he extended the vitality and the life of the man he would love forever. It was worth getting in trouble, if he could just help the General. That’s why Ron stole an entire vial of Martha Brown’s enhancement chemical while she was talking to the General. That’s why he had poured it into the glass of whiskey he had served the General that very evening. That’s why he now pinched his own nipples unconsciously looking into the bathroom mirror of the Officer’s Club after he had stepped away for a few minutes to calm down. The man of his dreams was going to be enhanced . . . or dead . . . within twenty-four hours. It was now just a waiting game.
  2. Gym Daddy Bryan walked through the double doors of the gym that Monday evening. It was day one of his six-day workout week. Bryan had a desk job that put him behind a cubicle for a reputable pharmaceutical company for eight hours a day, and getting to the gym was cathartic for him. He scanned his app at the gym counter and proceeded to the men’s locker rooms. Bryan had been working out for six days a week for the better part of three years. With proper diet and steady work, he’d built quite an impressive body for himself. He prided himself on being all natural. Still, at age 28 and only 180 lbs., he was fairly strong for someone his age and weight. Once in the locker room, he changed into his gym wear, quickly shedding his usual polo and khaki pants for Under Armour shorts and a tank that showed off his nice build. Bryan took out his shaker cup and pre-workout from his bag. He mixed a couple of scoops into the cold water from the water fountain nearby, chugged the watermelon-berry flavored mix, secured his bag and proceeded out to the gym floor. This would be his normal routine for quite some time. “Hey Bryan, can you stay over a bit? Monica is still on maternity leave, and I need help finishing this project.” Bryan realized that staying over time with his boss would be more money, but would mess up his normal gym going time. The gym was open until midnight, so he would still have some time. Bryan agreed to work the extra time, and would just go after work. The project was simple. Vials of a new type of testosterone were to be delivered to a Hormone Replacement Therapy warehouse. The formula, imported from the middle east, was reported to have stronger effects than that of regular testosterone. The clinical trials had been tested on mice with positive results. Bryan had seen these types of “new” products all the time. They change one ingredient, market it as a “2.0” type of deal and then sell it for a higher price. Oh well, he would still get paid. He finished boxing up the last of the vials and turn to leave when his foot hit two vials on the floor. Bryan checked the box to make sure his count was correct. Something about the shiny blue liquid in the vials caught his eye, and when his boss had his back turned, Bryan scooped them up and placed them in his pocket. If he was off, he could just replace them during the next shipment. That evening it would be around 8:30 when Bryan finally arrived the gym. The entire clientele had changed. Usually, there were many professionals there during the earlier hours...single mothers taking spin and body pump classes, computer tech nerds who would utilize the personal training room, and a few college kids here and there. The weights would be normally empty so Bryan could get in and get out rather quickly. Tonight, however, was not the case. At this time, there were the bodybuilder types getting in their second workout of the day, the meat heads who would “bro” them to death trying to get the secret to who their steroid dealer was, or secretly lust after them. Bryan stayed to himself. Some of the muscle studs were hot, but since they weren’t Bryan’s usual crowd, he hesitated to say anything to them. “Hey man, you busy? Can you spot me?”, came a deep voice from behind Bryan. Bryan turned around and his mouth almost fell to the floor. Behind him was a bald black man, had to be no taller than 5’10” and a tank. Everything on him look pumped, like an off-season bodybuilder. His muscled chest protruding through his painted on t-shirt, his four blocky abs visible through his shirt. The massive vein in his biceps snaked down to his forearms, as the big slabs sat resting on his thick lats. The man was truly massive. He had to weigh 250 lbs. His face was kind of weathered though. “Name’s Freddie”, said the old tank. “Bryan”, said the 20 something trying desperately to keep his eyes from drifting downwards towards the protruding crotch no more than one foot from him. “Can you give me a spot? I’m turning 52 in a week and I can’t push the big weights around like I used to.” “Sure”, said Bryan. Bryan thought to himself, ‘he must have been a beast in his hay day, but time catches up to everyone I guess.’ Bryan prepared himself to help spot maybe 215lbs...275 at the most. Stepping to the bar, Bryan counted four plates on each side. That was 405 lbs. He couldn’t bench that much. Hell, he didn’t know many people that could. Freddie got under the bar, and said “lift off on three”. “1...” “2...” “3”, and after a sharp intake of breath, and a jerk from Bryan, Freddie held the bar over his chest, slowly lowered it down, then pushed it back up for one rep, then another...and then another. After eight reps, he lowered it to his chest, and roared a primal roar that made pre-cum leak from Bryan. Luckily his shorts were black. After two more grueling reps, Freddie racked the bar with a clang that echoed throughout the entire gym. “Wow”, stammered Bryan, that was incredible. Freddie looked and smiled. “Thanks man. I’m trying to battle age, but it’s a hard thing to beat. Thanks for spotting me. Are you in here often? I don’t see you a lot.” “No”, said Bryan. “I’m usually here during the earlier part of the day. But if you ever need a spot, I can start coming a little later in the day. It’s no big deal.” “Thanks man” With that, Bryan continued his own workout. He watched the old man continue to bench with drop sets, and then move on to another exercise. Bryan noticed that Freddie did full body workouts. Despite his older age, Freddie’s muscles seemed to carry a bloated pump. Bryan paced himself in order to finish right around the same time. As he headed back to the lockers, he saw the big man posing in the mirror, his frame pulsing and writhing with mature muscle. “You like what you see, boy?”, came Freddie’s deep voice. Bryan quickly moved to his locker, but the old man, still shirtless, came over to where he was. “I could tell you had a thing for this muscle since your boner almost smacked me in the face during my bench press. Why don’t you come help an old man clean up back at the house? I’ll let you pin me after I shower. It’s time for my HRT this week anyway.” Bryan could barely contain himself, and as he changed into his gym gear, he heard the faint clank of the two glass vials still in his pants pocket... Turns out Freddie lived not too far from the gym. Years in the US Marines had shaped his body, but now retired, he served as security for a reputable casino on a Native American population. Living near the desert away from Los Angeles, Freddie was able to afford a really nice house. As Bryan pulled in the driveway of the two story house. Following Freddie inside, was a really nice layout. His military retirement didn’t go unnoticed. In the kitchen were marble countertops lined with supplements. Freddie offered Bryan a seat and disappeared into his bedroom. The master bedroom was on the bottom floor...presumably because of Freddie’s age thought Bryan. Within a few moments, Freddie returned with a syringe and a bottle. Here’s the test they prescribe for me. Draw 2 ccs and pin the right cheek. Then we can get to know each other better. Bryan went into the kitchen to grab a paper towel and some alcohol. While his back was to Freddie, he drew 1 cc of the blue liquid into the syringe. He then drew the 2 ccs of Freddie’s HRT, recapped the needle and walked back over. Freddie had turned and presented his muscular ass to Bryan. “Pin daddy, boy”, he growled. Bryan rubbed the alcohol soaked paper towel over the skin, and plunged the needle in, emptying its contents. As he finished the syringe, he heard a low moan come from Freddie. After clotting the injection site, Freddie turned around and grabbed Bryan by the back of the head, forcing his mouth on his dick. Bryan began to suck Freddie for all he was worth. Freddie’s fat cock was veiny and at least eight inches hard. The organ was engorged with blood, making it extremely heavy and powerful. With Freddie’s added power, Bryan’s throat was getting a thorough pounding, but he was skilled, and soon Freddie erupted down his throat. After licking his new muscle daddy clean, Bryan made his way back to his car, and headed home to get some sleep for work the next day. --- Tomorrow would be no different for Bryan. He would finish up at work, file some extra work and finish some extra projects, and then head to the gym at his new later time. Freddie was already in the gym when he got there, but he seemed bigger. He now wore a sleeveless shirt and a pair of gym shorts that hugged the middle of his monstrous thigh. He was going through his full body workout, at the bench press but no spot, and just re-racking what seemed like 455lbs. Bryan was in awe. Freddie gave Bryan a large bear hug when he saw him. Too Bryan’s surprise Freddie had just completed his fourth set of 455lbs. His chest and arms looked completely pumped. “Ummm Freddie?” “Call me sir, boy. Don’t make me punish you again.” “Sorry, sir. How much do you weigh?” “It was the weirdest thing boy. I weighed 275lbs. this morning and felt strong as an ox. Ate like one too. I suppose I should let you give me that blue stuff more often.” Freddie winked at Bryan, and Bryan felt sick. Freddie had seen him, and realized the potency of the solvent. After the workout was finished, Bryan was back at Freddie’s house yet again. Freddie would have him pin him, fuck his mouth, and then send him home. Each of the days, Bryan would mix 1cc of the blue liquid with the HRT that Freddie was prescribed. Each day Freddie would show up looking bigger, and more massive. By the end of the week, Freddie weighed a whopping 360 lbs. of jacked muscle. Friday came and went, and Bryan had just finished up his job. He’d actually gotten off of work early, but waited faithfully before entering the gym. Freddie had so much domination over Bryan, that he would actually sit in his car and wait for Freddie to walk in the gym before him. Saturday, the old man was situated in the middle of the gym. Today he was wearing only some lycra spandex shorts, similar to what Kai Greene would wear...and some lifting shoes. At 390lbs., his insane bulge was fighting for air, while his naked torso was exposed leaving mountainous pecs, traps to his ears, boulder shoulders, arms that could barely bend anymore, and a bulbous muscle gut. His legs waddling over each other with every step he took. His back was so wide; it actually hid the entire gym worker who had been trying to talk Freddie into at least putting on a shirt. The workout was brief today, partly because Bryan kept having to hide his massive boner after seeing the powerful display that was his gym daddy. As usual after the workout, Bryan went to Freddie’s house. This time it would be different. Freddie didn’t take the HRT mixture tonight. It was the remainder of the blue liquid from the vial that Bryan had. After Bryan administered it, Freddie turned around and placed a chain around his neck with a lock. “You belong to me now boy. You’re my muscle boy now.” Instead of feeling a sense of capture, Bryan felt a sense of pride. His gym daddy was possibly the most muscular human on the planet. “Order us some food boy. Then come clean daddy.” Bryan ordered several large pizzas to be delivered. The app said about 45-55 minutes, so that would be time to clean his muscle daddy from head to toe. Once in the bathroom, Bryan was commanded to wipe the ass of the muscle bull, as he could no longer reach nor had the flexibility. Then once in the shower, Bryan dutifully cleaned and washed Freddie, feeling the pulsating muscles. At one point Bryan could swear the muscles were actually growing under his touch, but that couldn’t be possible. Once dried off and back in the living room, Freddie sat on the recliner and spread his mammoth legs open; his 15-inch dick hung over the seat cushions waiting at attention. Bryan knelt and began sucking the large monolith when the doorbell rang. “It’s open!” bellowed the black giant. Bryan dared not stop sucking the massive cock as the pizza delivery boy (thank goodness it was a male) stepped in. “Ummmm, where do you want these, sir?”, said the delivery guy. He couldn’t be more than 25 years old. “Bring em here and feed them to me.” “Ummm sir, I’m still on the clock—“ “That wasn’t a request boy!” As if possessed, the pizza guy walked over with an open box, and proceeded to feed Freddie slice after slice, which the older man gobbled down. Bryan could swear his muscle daddy was growing with each bite; his mouth being further molested by the growing obelisk. After two boxes, Freddie signaled to stop and tipped the boy, Bryan still sucking for his life. Moments later Freddie erupted down Bryan’s throat. As Bryan began to dislodge the cum splattered dick from his throat and stand up, he suddenly felt a vice grip on his quads. The huge hands encircling them were Freddie’s hands. Bryan looked to see that Freddie was immediately hard again. Using a free hand, Freddie grabbed Bryan’s boxers and ripped them away like tissue paper. Freddie then lifted Bryan like a toy over his pulsing cock. Bryan couldn’t help but notice the snakelike veins pulsing over Freddie’s body, sending blood to pump his growing muscles even more. Freddie’s eyes were now glazed over; the only thing on his mind was fuck. As his dick entered Bryan’s waiting hole, Bryan screamed at how thick his invader was, stretching him inch by inch until the 17 inch pole was completely swallowed and Bryan’s throbbing ass cheeks were kissing the hilt. As the older muscle god moved Bryan up and down on his cock like a sex toy, Bryan held on for dear life. Freddie then stood up with Bryan impaled on his dick. Bryan thought he was taller than before... Counter after counter, room after room, tables, couches, floors...Freddie fucked Bryan until the 28 year old cried in pleasure and pain, asking daddy to show mercy. After Freddie came six more times within Bryan’s ass, he popped the young stud off of his dick and keeping him on all fours, wrapped his meaty paw within the chain around Bryan’s neck, holding him there like a pup on a leash. Freddie “walked” his pup into the bathroom and stepped on his industrial scale. “Read it to me boy. Daddy’s pecs are too big”. It was true. Freddie could barely look past his chest. “485lbs. sir”, “said Bryan, proud that his gym daddy...no just his daddy...was the biggest most muscular man in the world. At the moment, he felt a sharp tug at the chain around his neck and blacked out. What seemed like hours later, Bryan regained his consciousness and found he was on the California King bed inside the master bedroom...Bryan noticed his ass was stretched wider, but felt full. An even larger cock was stuffed inside, consistently spewing cum. The behemoth underneath even larger than moments ago breathing and causing Bryan’s entire mass to rise up and down in synchronicity with the breath. Bryan gazed to the right and saw his pants on the dresser, and on the nightstand, a bottle of the blue liquid that was nearly gone. “That’s right boy. Daddy found the other bottle. When I last stepped on the scale it broke. Damn thing was only meant for 650 lbs. anyway, which means I’m a freak, and I’m still growing. But I don’t wanna break my boy, so I left three doses for you so you will be able to at least survive the fucks. You’ll move in here, be my muscle-boy, lift with me, be prepared to take my dick at least three times a day, and clean me daily while I flex and pump bigger. In return, I’ll fill you with my seed, fuck you senseless, feed you so you can grow bigger, and let you worship my muscles. This isn’t a request boy.” “Yes daddy,” said Bryan as he licked the massive nipple of his daddy’s chest and awaited the prick of the needle in his skin. Maybe he could sneak out another bottle or two during the next shipment. His daddy always had room to grow...
  3. “Look at you boning up just because I took off my shirt. You are a daddy whore aren’t you, kid.” “I’m not really a kid, I’m twenty-nine years old, sir.” “You’re a kid if I call you one, kid. Don’t forget I can toss you across this room if I want to. That makes me the grown up and you the kid.” “Yes sir.” “Drop your drawers, kid.” “Excuse me?” “Lose the trousers. I want to see that hard cock of yours poking out the material of your briefs.” I undid my belt and let my pants fall to the ground. “That’s a circus tent right there, kid. It’s a pretty thick pole, too. This old man’s rod is twice as thick, though, and a hell of a lot longer. Stroke yourself through your underwear.” “What?” “I said stroke yourself, son. Take a gander at this hard muscle daddy body of mine and stroke yourself. Remember, you’re here for my enjoyment.” I reached around my hardness and pulled back and forth – taking the cotton briefs with the motion my hand. “That’s a good little daddy whore, kid. Look at my fucking arm, son. Makes your juices boil, doesn’t it?” “Yes sir, it does.” He flexed his right arm on the back of the chair and looked at his own bulging gun. I swear his own body turned him on as much as it did me – maybe even more. We gazed in silence as he squeezed his fist a few times to make the biceps dance a little. It was mesmerizing. “Fucking big daddy guns. So huge. This body was made for pleasing, son. Turn around. I want to see your ass. I did as I was told. He let out a loud whistle as soon as I turned around. “Oh hell yeah, that’s a nice little package for me to open up later on. I bet you’re as tight as shit, aren’t you, squirt.” “I hope so, sir.” “Hope so? Man, grow some balls. A good bottom always knows if he’s tight or not. Be proud of that ass of yours. It’s damn hot. It was made to make big men like me happy. So, is that ass of yours tight as shit, boy?” “Yes sir, it’s very tight.” “Yeah, it looks tight. That’s a mighty fine bubble butt. Back up so I can get a handful of that, son.” Again, I did as I was told. His big hand roughly grabbed some of my ass meat and he squeezed hard enough to make me have tears in my eyes, but it felt good, too. He kneaded my ass and emitted approving grunts for a few minutes. I looked back and he had his other hand down his undone shorts, clearly stroking himself in appreciation of my ass. “Fucking hell, I’m going to pound that sweet thing so hard later on. First, we’re going to continue our little conversation and play some more, but later on I’m going to have you screaming with pleasure, squirt. I can guarantee you that. Does that sound good, boy?” “Yes sir, very good.” “Sit in my lap so I can grind my hard dick against that ass of yours.” I plopped down hard, knowing it would give him a thrill. He instantly started rocking his pole into my ass. “I’m so fucking horny we might just have to skip to the plowing a lot sooner than I anticipated, there, squirt. My big muscle daddy body has so much testosterone kicking around in it, I can’t seem to wait longer than two to three hours before needing to yank on my meat or plow the nearest ass or mouth. Play with my tits, boy. They deserve some attention.” I turned my body to face him, making sure I pressed down hard against his cock as I twisted my butt around. I knelt in the chair, my knees on either side of his waist. He continued to dry hump my ass from below. I grabbed hold of his jutting nipples and squeezed with all my might, which caused him to only mutter ‘fuck yeah’ under his breath. My full strength only brought pleasure to his pecs, my tight squeezing didn’t hurt him in any way. “Yeah, my muscle daddy tits love your abuse, son. You’re using all of your strength, aren’t you? Aged beef can be so tough, kid. Let’s see what that mouth of yours can do.” One of his huge hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face into his stone like muscled pec. I immediately started sucking. I could feel the incredible power he had in just one arm as he held my face plastered to his chest. “Yeah, that’s a good little muscle pig. Feast on that chest, boy. Make that cock under your ass pulse with excitement. That’s some mighty fine slurping.” A finger had made its way beyond the waistband of my underwear and was now teasing my tight hole mercilessly. This big man had large thick fingers and he knew how to use them to make my ass pucker with anticipation. Meanwhile, my nose was starting to ache from being smashed into his hard muscle. “How ‘bout you clean this daddy’s pits, boy. I was lifting earlier today and they’re pretty rank. They could both use a good tongue scrubbing.” The big older man lifted his left arm into a monstrous biceps flex and I immediately moved my face into the furry cavern under his bulging gun. What he called rank smelled like heaven to me and it tasted like man honey. I lapped salty masculine sweat up with my tongue in the same way a dog drinks water after a long run. “Damn, kid, you’re one of the best daddy whores I’ve ever met. You’ve got a Hoover for a mouth, don’t you? We’ll have to put that to good use in a little while. I’ll give you something big enough to suck on it will bring tears to your eyes, not to mention a little stretching to your throat. You’re gonna soon have that manly pit cleaner than it’s ever been before.” His finger suddenly popped into my chute and that made me lurch forward, slamming my face harder into the muscle-surrounded pit. I was basically now a finger puppet he was controlling completely. I never stopped my lapping, though. I was too focused on trying to suck down some of his cocky daddy-ness into my body. I had a feeling I’d be walking a little more erect and confident in about an hour because I was soaking up so much of his senior muscle testosterone. I also go the feeling he could easily send an entire junior high school through puberty by just walking into the place. My ass cheeks squeezed tightly as his finger seemed to be widening my hole for something much bigger later on. “Yeah, that surely is a fucking tight hole, you sweet thing. You’re gonna think I’m trying to stick a silo up your ass when I finally plow you. Good thing this big body has a lot of power, cause I think entering that hole of yours is going to be harder than trying to get into Fort Knox. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, son, cause this big man can thrust with the power of a bull. You’re going to still feel me inside of you for weeks to come, boy. I’m a daddy that knows how to please.” I was now beyond excited. The manly aroma, the finger invasion of my ass, the flexed biceps near my face, and the sex talk by this muscle master was getting to be too much to handle. I was scared I was going to either self-combust or pass out from being turned on so much. The big man could tell he was becoming hotter than I could handle. He pulled his finger out of my hole with a loud pop, lowered his flexed gun, and moved my face back to one of his jutting nipples. “Suck on that for a while, boy. We need to calm you down a little. That engine of yours isn’t used to running on muscle daddy overdrive for so long. God, you’re a cute little fucker, though. Gonna squeeze that pretty head of yours with my big gun, boy. I just gotta do it. Yeah, feel that daddy power, son. Feels like I could crush that skull of yours if I wanted to, doesn’t it?” I didn’t answer him – for two reasons, really. One, he was kind of just talking to himself, getting off on his own muscles. And, two, I was gone – in some kind of la-la land sucking on his big chest and feeling his huge gun and forearm squeezing the shit out of my head. I was lost in his daddy power and he knew it. “That mouth of yours is so fucking hot, boy. My nip feels like some turbo jet engine is trying to suck it off of me. I think it’s time you met my friend, Giant Pete. You’re gonna like him. I think you’ll soon see that the name fits. I also think you’ll be able to make Giant Pete very, very happy.” The elder muscleman easily lifted my body away from his. My mouth sounded like a suction cup being removed from glass as he roughly pulled me away. He stood me in front of him. God, he had the sexiest buzz cut and two of the hottest ears I’d ever seen in my entire life. And he had a fucking hard body that just could not stop glowing because of his huge muscles. “Pull off my shorts, boy . . . slowly, real slow. Let’s introduce you to Giant Pete.” I was on my knees immediately, tugging his shorts and underwear down at the same time. The guy’s gaze was glued to my face. He was waiting to get a ringside view of my reaction. I had learned early on that when it came to pleasing muscle daddies, I had actually been endowed with super powers – so to speak. I could swallow cock like you would not believe. Those super powers, however, did not prepare me for the King Dong that was unveiled as I pulled down the big man’s pants. Giant Pete was not only incredibly long; he was – indeed – twice as thick as my own manly tool. I could feel my throat gag a little just from the sight of the monstrosity. It looked like something I could swing to hit a baseball. And Giant Pete looked as hard and muscular as the rest of the big man. My face hid none of my surprise and none of my fear. He sat back down on the chair. “Didn’t see that monstrous thing coming, did you, kid? This muscle daddy has quite a few surprises, doesn’t he? No other surprise comes close to being as huge as Giant Pete, though. It’s my secret weapon, my massive plowing machine. Careful, there, you might start drooling – now that the initial shock has worn off. That tool right there has brought more men to their knees than a church filled to the brim on Christmas. And no one’s ever said no to worshipping the thing, either. Show me what that mouth of yours can really do, boy.” Seeing the muscle daddy completely nude – all massive with his hard bulges – and taking in that huge gorgeous cock got my motor running more than anything else had up to that point. I was instantly fully charged for the task at hand. I surprised the hell out of the older stud by gulping his hard redwood-like tool into my mouth with one deep swallow. This had clearly never happened before and he was nowhere near ready for the jolt of pleasure my action would give. He grabbed the arms of the chair and his butt shot forward off of the seat, forcing his cock even deeper into my throat. He let out a loud deep moan, which made him sound the pornographic foghorn of an ocean liner. I instantly regained my abilities to please a muscle daddy in mysterious ways. “Fucking hell, kid, where did that come from. You’re a Grade A cocksucker, aren’t you? Hell, that almost put me over the edge. You’ve got some talent with that . . . whoa, kid . . . slow down, now. I’m losing control. You’re going to make me explode. Wait . . . boy . . . daddy’s losing . . . no, no, NOOO . . . unhhhhhhhh!!!!” This is what I had really wanted from the start, to show him what I was capable of. I was younger and smaller, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have some skills. He shot the kind of daddy load into my mouth that I had come to love so much – hot, thick, and tons of it. Damn, he was a virile man. His crotch was thrusting like a well-lubed piston and my mouth was receiving him like a kid getting the Christmas gift he’s always dreamed of. I swallowed fast and hard, accepting every drop he offered and making him cum even more than he ever thought he could. My big old daddy man was yelling like some kind of animal that’s been wounded. I guess in a way he had, not wanting the orgasm to come and all. I knew he’d be defenseless against my mouth. I had taken on rougher and tougher men, but no one had ever been the size of his Giant Pete. As I sucked that giant monster dry I knew I was sealing the deal on a long-term relationship. I could tell the muscle daddy squirting forever down my throat was getting a new perspective of the little man he thought he’d picked up for just one night. I knew I’d be able to ask for diamonds or pearls once this man quit shooting. “Fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . I’m still coming! How can you . . . unh . . . unh . . . do that . . . unh, kid?” I continued to squeeze his long pole with my throat and it continued to offer me its sweet prize. Finally, the big daddy’s ass fell back down on the chair, but my mouth traveled with Giant Pete and kept on sucking. The elder muscleman let go of his death grip on the arms of the chair, took a deep breath, and physically pushed my head away from his cock. There was a loud pop as Giant Pete escaped from my lips. That gorgeous huge daddy chest was heaving up and down and the man had his eyes closed as he tried desperately to calm his body down, having to take breaths between some words as he spoke. “That’s a . . . weapon of . . . mass destruction. That’s . . . what . . . that . . . mouth is. Damn, boy . . . I’ve never had that . . . kind of explosion before. You’re not . . . human.” I knelt in front of him licking my lips and beaming at his compliments. His entire tone – his entire way of interacting with me had changed. He rubbed his hands up and down on his face, as if he were trying to make sure all of this was real – that it had truly happened. He finally looked right at me, his body was sort of under control by this point, and smiled. That’s when I decided to wreck him again. “My ass is more talented than my mouth.” “Fucking hell that makes me the happiest man on the planet. If I had an engagement ring on me right now I’d be down on one knee. Wait, I think I have a cock ring in the drawer of my beside table. I can slap that thing on you as my pledge of devotion. Come here, you sweet bundle of goodness, you. I need to kiss that golden mouth. No one has ever made Giant Pete so happy or ejaculate so hard.” The big man easily lifted my body onto his. He sat me on his lap, but this time it was welcoming and soothing. His hands massaging my body as he brought his hot mouth against mine. The kiss was full of passion, not dominance. My oral skills had obviously won over a new fan. His tongue explored my mouth lovingly, while his hands continued to caress me. When we came up for air he spoke completely different than he had earlier. “Need anything, baby doll? Need me to do anything?” “Just hold me with those big daddy muscles.” “Oh baby, I’ll hold you real tight. I’ll squeeze you, too. I’ll do whatever you want me to, cute man.” In my mind I thought about how the tide had changed. I had this big man wrapped around my little finger. It made me smile. Now, who was the daddy whore?
  4. “Watch out, you’re starting to drool.” “You just bounced a guy with your pecs and sent him through the wall.” “Hot as hell, wasn’t it? He’ll be fine, by the way. I know him. Strong as an ox. He’s probably got a few broken bones, but that’s all. He’s tougher than the concrete.” “But why? Why did you do it?” “You walked in.” “What does that mean?” “We both crushed on you right away and he said we should fight for you. I made it a quick fight. When I really want something I give it my all. What’s your name, young ‘un.” “Um . . . Michael.” “Call me Gramps.” “What?” “It turns me on. I love the idea that I’m older than everyone else and bigger.” “But you are bigger than everyone else . . . put together.” “Aw, you say the nicest thing, kiddo. Measured my chest at 140 inches today – that’s about 355 centimeters if you’re not from the States, Michael.” “Holy hell! How can it be that huge? No, I’m from here, but I also know that’s fucking enormous in inches or centimeters.” “Again with the compliments. What a nice kid you are. The arms are tapping out at about 100 inches. I’d flex ‘em for you, but we just met. A guy should save some thrills for later on, don’t you think?” “Yes sir.” “Yes sir, what, Michael.” “Yes sir, Gramps.” “Attaboy. Nothing hotter than thinking you’re the grown up son of some guy I sired a long time ago. I’m your old man’s old man and I’m a mountain compared to you, the little molehill. I get to take care of you as if you were a toddler still in diapers – taking care of your every need with my massive body. Turns you on, too, doesn’t it.” “You have no idea, Gramps.” “Well, those tenting gym shorts give me a pretty good picture, little man.” “Gonna twist one of these bars into a big old teething ring for you, kid. There you go, easy as twisting paper.” “You just bent a steel bar into a circle three times – as if it were nothing.” “Twas nothing, squirt. I can twist an SUV later on if it’ll make you happy. Whoa, don’t keel over, boy. Didn’t mean to make you pass out. Here, let Gramps one hand lift you over to the bench. My arm is like a big crane easily lifting a little stone. You weigh less than one of my biceps, dude. Little men get me harder faster than anything. Look how I can bounce you up and down in one palm. Well that turned you green. Sorry, didn’t know you had motion sickness.” “What are you?” “Just a big old man with the strength of twenty Hulks put together. Wanna see me push an entire building over about a hundred yards? Foundation and all? It’s pretty hot to see all the people come out and not recognize everything at first. Or we could go down to the beach and you could see me hold back the tide with my breath. That’s always a cock pleaser, too.” “I think I need to lay down, Gramps. You’re wrecking me.” “That’s my intention, little Mikey. The elder monster of a man overwhelming the youngster with his tales about feats of strength – that’s what its all about. We could also go find a group of guys foolish enough to challenge me and watch as I freak them out with what I can do. It’s especially fun if they have weapons. And don’t worry. I’d make sure not one little gorgeous hair on your head was harmed. That’s what Gramps should do for his boy – protect him and take care of him. Gotta rip a plate apart for you, kid. See, I just grab the little thing on either side – what’s this, oh a 25 kilogram plate – and pull. See how the iron plate rips apart as if it were just cardboard. Then I crumble up the pieces in each hand – turning the thing into two little round balls. I’ll let you play with these later on. You can throw them as hard as you can at my chest. We’ll need to get you behind something though so they can’t hurt you when they bounce off. Pouncing my pecs with a sledgehammer can be fun, too, but the handle kind of stings when the big tool is stopped by my unyielding chest.” “You can’t be real.” “Oh, come here, baby. Let’s bury your face between Gramps’ chest beef and that will help you see I’m real. I can’t squeeze too hard or I’ll crush your fragile little bones, but I can make sure you know all of this giganticness is genuine. If I slide your waist between my pecs I can hold you there like you’re in muscle prison. Go ahead, try to escape.” “I . . . unh . . . can’t . . . breathe.” “Well damn, I was barely squeezing those big puppies. Sorry about that, Mikey. Hell, puny men turn me on so much. Flex that toothpick you call an arm, for me. Seeing how small that bump is compared to my freaking giant thing makes my balls ache with excitement. Oh fuck, your arm looks like that of a ninety-year old skeleton, son. It’s so hot that I’m the old man and I dwarf you in every way. You’re entire body isn’t as thick as my arm. Yeah, flex it harder – try to make that tiny thing grow. My forefinger can make a bigger bulge than that, dude. Your tininess makes you so freaking cute.” “Have you always been big, Gramps.” “Hell no, son. I was a dweeb like you for most of my life, but when I hit fifty years old I decided I needed a change in perspective. I decided I wanted to be the man that caused the fear instead of living in it. I started going crazy with the weights, little dude. And then I started to grow. Man, it became my drug of choice – getting huge. I guess this enormous bod shows I became quite addicted. And my strength just kept increasing, too. I was soon lifting more than most guys half my age. Now, I’m seventy-one, Mikey, and I’m the most jacked Gramps you’re ever going to meet. I lift more than all the guys in this place . . . put together. I make them call me Super Gramps.” “I would love to see how powerful you really are, Super Gramps!” “Well hell, son, why didn’t you just say so. Showing off for a cute little man is my middle name. I’ll have you squirting so much you’ll beg me to stop doing things. Let’s get the hell out of here and go do some damage.” “Um, the door is that way, Gramps.” “You think a man as big and powerful as me wastes his time with doors? Hell, son, one punch of this supersized fist makes the only door I need. Concrete, steel, iron – it doesn’t matter. Shield your eyes a little, boy, because of the flying debris, but make sure you can still watch. Pow! Yeah, that’s a nice sized chunk of the wall gone. I’ll fit through that nicely.” “But this is the sixth floor, Gramps!” “That’s like a skip for this giant man, dude. It’s time for you to get used to my unlimited powers. I’ll try to make the landing as soft for you as I can, but stepping from this high up tends to be a little jarring. Oh fuck, look at that, Mikey. When I land the asphalt shoots out large cracks like there’s been an earthquake or something. Let’s put your little body up on one of my shoulders so you can get a good view as we travel home.” “What about my car?” “Hey, I forgot about that. I tend to not need a vehicle of any kind now, son. I can travel a lot faster on foot and, besides, I can’t really fit comfortably in any kind of automobile anymore. Which little thing is yours?” “That Jeep over there in the corner.” “Nice ride, little man. It would be a good choice for me if I did fit in it – cause I could show off all my muscles as we tooled down the freeway. It would be fun to look back and see all the guys bobbing up and down as they beat off because of the freaking muscled monster they just saw pass by in a Jeep. Hang on, son, I’m going to just tilt this tiny thing sideways so I can get a good grip underneath . . . and there we go. We’re all ready for traveling. You on one shoulder and the Jeep in the air lifted easily by one of my major daddy arms. That’ll certainly freak people out as I jog by. This flimsy piece of metal is so light, dude. They don’t make ‘em like they used too – or maybe they’re just not used to having a man as big and strong as I am. A few pumps with my arm, just to show you that the Jeep isn’t even giving my gun enough resistance to count as warming up. I could toss it a few blocks and then run with super speed to easily catch it, but that would tend to mess up your pretty-boy hair, not to mention flatten some of those gorgeous features because of the force. We’ll just jog so you can get the benefit of watching other people react to this huge Gramps.” “I . . . uh . . . I . . . can’t . . .” “It’s alright, boy. Don’t try to speak. I know your lust mode is on overload right now. Seeing your little Jeep up in the air is almost too much for you - isn’t it? You poor thing, you just weren’t prepared to meet a super strong mega-sized daddy today, were you? That’s okay, boy. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Gramps is going to take care of you like you were my own. We’ll have you thinking about me every waking hour and dreaming about me as you sleep during the night in no time. Let this gargantuan old man rock your world like it’s never been rocked before. I can tell you’ve already started looking at other men as tiny . . . inferior, since you’ve gotten to know me. And I can feel you starting to view yourself as a youngster – ready to have this big man take care of you. Hell, that get’s my juices flowing, son. Let me provide for you. Let this big Gramps take care of your every need. Just give into the muscle, dude.”
  5. “Honey, I need to get a mixing bowl down. Do you have time to help me?” “No need to yell, I’m right here.” “Oh, I didn’t see you. What were you doing?” “Getting in a few lifts.” “The armoire or the iron table?” “Both.” “That’s my man. So, do you have time to help me get the mixing bowls?” I was standing in front of the counter near the fridge pointing up to the top shelf of the cupboards above. I was only 170 centimeters tall, so I either had to go out to the garage to get a stepladder or climb up on the counter. I didn’t feel like doing either if Cal was nearby. Cal was my husband of twenty years. We had met when I was twenty-two and he was forty-seven. I had come out of a store on a busy street in Santa Monica and found my car to be pinned between two large trucks. There was no way I could joggle the vehicle back and forth enough to get out of the space and the drivers of both truck were no where to be found. I must have looked pretty upset because suddenly, this guy in a suit had appeared beside me asking if I needed help. I told him I did, but I wasn’t sure if he could help me and then I explained the situation. Before I had time to say anything else, this man walked over and grabbed my BMW by the back bumper and above the wheel. In three quick grunt-inducing lifts the big guy had the back of my car sticking out towards the road, completely clear of the truck behind me. My shocked face amused him and he just said, “I like to lift a lot.” Four hours later, after Dr. Calvin Triggs, optometrist, had convinced me to grab a few beers with him, I was smitten in a big way. We moved in together two years later and then officially married when it became legal in California. Jump to later when he was sixty-seven and I was forty-two – I was still head over heels in love and he was still lifting and getting bigger every day. “Face the counter.” “Oooooh, I love it when you talk dirty.” I turned and faced the cupboards. Strong hands grabbed the sides of my waist and I was lifted upward until my gaze was even with the big mixing bowls I rarely used. “These shelves are really dusty. When’s the last time I cleaned up here?” “I lifted you up and down for about an hour to clean them last year.” “Oh yeah. I remember that. It was fun. I think it might be time to do it again.” “You should probably sweep under the armoire next time I curl its sides, there’s a lot of dust balls down there, too.” “Good idea. Speaking of lifting, Randy, the mechanic, says you probably shouldn’t be lifting the back of my car anymore. He thinks it’ ruining the shocks.” “Randy, the mechanic, says that only because I don’t let him watch me lift the car. He’s jealous of you.” “I still think you’re wrong, Cal. I don’t think he’s gay.” “Well you don’t see the way he stares at my arms when I bring my car in for check ups and he’s always pleading with me to lift something while I’m there.” “He could just be a strength and muscle junkie. That’s not the same thing as being gay.” “You’re all of the above, tiger.” “Point well taken. He might be gay.” “Mind you, I’m not complaining. I love holding you up I the air, but are you going to get that mixing bowl or can I start doing a few reps with you.” “I’m getting it, I’m getting it. Besides, you always complain I’m too light for lifting.” “Not since we bought that weighted vest you wear when I lift you. That gives me a hell of a pump.” “Yeah, but it gets uncomfortable after about forty-five minutes. I’m ready to come down.” As he lowered my body, Cal brought my ass to his face and he bit down on my right cheek, holding me in that spot. “What are you doing?” “Afternoon snack” His face was muffled against my butt, but I understood him. He turned and carried me over to the huge middle island that dominated our kitchen. He knew I was making his favorite – apple pie – so he wanted to help. For the next few minutes he carried me around the kitchen, my butt still filling his mouth, and I gathered different items for the task at hand. Finally he placed me on the floor with all the supplies spread out over the island. He then pressed his body against mine, his raging hard on felt so inviting pressed against my ass. “How can a man at sixty-seven be so insatiable?” “How can a man at forty-two be so adorable?” His bulging biceps pressed against my sides as he wrapped his arms around me and started playing with my nipples through my shirt. He had his chin resting on my shoulder, so his face was close to my ear. “How about we make that afternoon snack into some afternoon delight, young man.” “Dr. Triggs, I am making you an apple pie. Can’t you control that libido of yours for even two hours? Why don’t you go lift something? That will keep you calm for a little while.” “That hard thing pressing into your butt would like to do a little lifting.” I turned my face and kissed him on the cheek. I then stuck my tongue in his ear, something I knew he’d find gross and make him pull away. “Aw, yuck. Why did you go and ruin the moment!” “Because I want to please my big man with an apple pie. That’s why.” “I do love my pie.” And with that he left the kitchen. I knew he’d be in search of something to lift. I counted to five out loud – anticipating what I’d hear next. The door to the garage opened on cue and I knew my husband was going out to curl the back of my car a few times. My BMW weighed a lot more than his Prius, so he got a lot more satisfaction in lifting it. Dr. Calvin Triggs had the body of someone in his twenties. Big massive thick pecs hung off his body in that way that made people beg him to always wear polo shirts – well, it made me always beg him. His biceps, un-flexed, were three times bigger than mine. He wore the same size pants he wore in high school because the state-wrestling champion had never stopped working out since he won the title all those years ago. No wonder he had been able to move my car so easily that afternoon in Santa Monica – the man had been lifting heavy weights – in and out of a gym – since he was in junior high. I had caught on early in our relationship that Cal had an addiction. It wasn’t drugs. It wasn’t porn, although he did love watching videos of smaller guys worshipping the big bodies of larger men. And it wasn’t alcohol. It was actually more intense than all of those. Calvin Triggs loved lifting. Yes, it was a healthy addiction, but it could also be infuriating. I found out very early in our relationship that he needed his boyfriends to be okay with suddenly being lifted in the air without any warning. It could happen anytime, anywhere. I had been lifted on the dance floor of so many clubs I’d lost count. Cal always used the excuse of getting me to look for our friends, but I knew it was really just because he wanted to pick me up. The park was his favorite place for curling and overhead presses. He always said I was much more fun to lift than a barbell. He bought me a special belt that enabled him to lift me with one arm, as well. He’d squat down, grab hold of the belt near my crotch, and hoist me up in the air – followed by a few one armed reps to my stunned awe. He’d also do chest presses with me in bed almost every morning. I’d complain that I needed coffee first, but he never listened. One day, I asked him seriously why he never listened to me when I pleaded for him to not lift me at certain times and he responded that the hard-on in my pants always said I enjoyed it as much as he did. He was right, of course. Deep loud grunts from the garage caught my attention. I hadn’t reached a point in my pie making where I couldn’t afford a short break. Watching Cal lift was still one of my favorite things in the world – almost as much fun as when he was lifting me. I opened the garage door and the back wheels of my car were about 65 centimeters off the ground. My husband had taken off his blue-checkered dress shirt and every possible muscle in his upper torso was bulging and gleaming in the light because it was covered in sweat. Thick snake-like veins streaked across his biceps and forearms. He was gritting his teeth because of the effort, but there was a big smile across Cal’s face. He knew I’d be out there to have a look. He always said that one of the main reasons he asked me to marry him was that he knew he’d never find someone who liked being lifted or watching him lift more than I did. I didn’t know if that was true, but I certainly did enjoy it. His white hair was a little out of place and it gave him this wild, unkempt look that I liked a lot – especially when he grunted loudly from the strain. “Come feel them.” He spoke in a strained voice. It was probably his third lift of the car. That was more than likely his last. A sixty-seven year old man picking up the back of a BMW three times was more than impressive, but my big man wished he could do it a lot more. He fantasized about super strength all the time and his fetish fueled his lifting, which – in turn – fueled his growth. And that made me very happy. He held the car in a curl at chest level so I could grope his hard-as-hell biceps for a minute or two. I could tell the strain was getting to him, so I backed away and let him lower the car. He dropped it when it got about ten centimeters from the floor and the back of the car bounced a little. I gave him a look, reminding him what Randy, the mechanic, had said about the shocks. His gorgeous chest was heaving up and down and he was breathing as hard as a bull after a stampede. He walked over to me, grabbed me by waist and lifted me until my face was even with his. He then plastered his lips against mine. Cal was always super horny after lifting something really heavy. It was like the best foreplay ever. I knew he wanted to throw me over the trunk of my car and have his way with me, but he clearly remembered I was making a pie. “God, I love picking you up. I’ll always love it.” “Probably not as much as I do.” “I wouldn’t be so sure, tiger.” “I like watching you lift my car.” “Really, what about the ever-wise Randy, the mechanic, and your shocks.” “To hell with Randy, the mechanic, and my shocks. Feeling this pump in your arms and that pump down below is too hot not to let you lift away.” “It does make me harder than iron.” “Lifting anything gets you hard, Dr. Triggs.” “True, but I get especially hard when it’s your car.” “So that’s what I feel below your waist.” This made him laugh. He gave me another kiss and then put me back down on the ground. He grabbed his shirt and we started back inside. I knew he’d go to take a little cat bath before he re-dressed. He didn’t like his shirts to smell like sweat. I didn’t mind one bit, but it bothered him. I followed him into the bathroom and watched him wipe his big body with a wet washcloth – spending some extra time in his gray-haired manly pits. That was a place my tongue liked to visit quite regularly. “I was thinking. Maybe it’s time to add on a gym so you could have a place to do some proper lifting.” “Aw babe, that’s a nice thought, but you know I don’t want to lift regular weights. I do that at the club five days a week. When I’m here I either want it to be you squirming in my arms above my head or something big, like the armoire or the car, so it makes me feel like superman. Let this old man live out some of his fantasies, please.” “Wait, wait, wait. I was thinking we could make it an outdoor gym, with a retractable roof. But more importantly, I was thinking we could get different things for lifting. Concrete blocks they use for traffic control, barrels full of cement, heavy steel girders and things like that. I was thinking it could be an early birthday present for you.” I swear the man’s nips popped out hard and thick from the excitement. I’m surprised they didn’t make a noise. I had never seen the particular devilish grin that appeared on his face. I could tell he was imagining himself lifting concrete pylons and kegs filled with iron scraps. I had done it. I had thought of something to make my older muscleman happy. I had thought of a gift you could give the big man who had everything. “I was also thinking we could retire my BMW to the gym, too. It’s time for me to get a new car. That way, you can lift it anytime you’d like and we don’t have to worry about Randy, the mechanic. What do you think?” “I think you have just made me the happiest guy in the world.” “Well, that’s how you make me feel every day.” “I need to pick you up, tiger.” “I thought you would.”
  6. “Geez, Uncle Buck, can’t you cover yourself up. It’s too early in the morning for all that.” “What’s the matter, little Will, this chest too much for you? Are your Uncle Bucky’s big man-tits turning you on?” I knew not to let my mouth drop open in shock. He was teasing me, but he had no idea how ‘spot on’ he really was. I was eating breakfast at the kitchen table and he had gotten himself some coffee and stepped up to the spot across from me. His had his big robe on, but his massive pecs were blasting out through the opening like two huge whales emerging from the ocean. He also didn’t even realize he was playing with himself through the pocket of his super thin pajama bottoms. His big paw was groping his man-log as if he were trying to make his morning wood last as long as he could. “These big fuckers are on fire today, Willie. I finally topped a thousand press ups last night. A new record. It’s only been six months of nightly exercise focused on my beastlike chest and the benefits are pretty obvious, wouldn’t you say?” I couldn’t help myself, so I stared directly at his powerful upper body – directly at that jutting muscle shelf spreading his robe apart like a huge stage curtain opening before a play. His mammoth pecs were glorious. I’d been living with him for about five months, so I had seen his once sagging elder man-boobs skyrocket into hard pillows of muscled beef. As he took a sip of coffee he made the right side of his chest roll upward like some kind of muscled shade rising on a window. He did the same thing on the left side a few seconds later and then he did both of the thick masses at the same time. The bald headed behemoth was staring at his own pecs – just as I was. “I was trying to exit an elevator yesterday, but this big jerk wasn’t getting out of the way to let me leave – even after I politely said ‘excuse me’ a couple of times, so I simply nudged him with my big bazookas and sent him flying to the ground on floor number eleven. As I stepped over him I looked down and said ‘sorry dude, these big things get in the way some of the time.’ You should have seen the look on his face. I didn’t lean over so I’m sure he couldn’t see up past my chest popping out my black polo in almost an obscene fashion. Sometimes, I feel like these big puppies have a mind of their own.” There was another loud slurp of coffee, a tensing of the mega mounds of hard flesh, and the continued stroking of what was clearly the thickest and longest tool I’d ever encountered. I had never seen it fully hard – or unclothed – but his nightclothes left nothing to the imagination. He sat down across from me and I swear his chest stuck out halfway across the table. I could have easily reached up and massaged the enormous thing. “Gonna need you to sit on my back as I do press-ups tonight, William. You can bring your iPad so you won’t get bored. I was pretty sweaty and freaking tight when I got done last night, but a thousand press-ups didn’t wreck me like I thought it might. Adding some weight will help me to get these giant babies to pop out even more.” Uncle Buck ran his hand across his hairy pecs and let his thick fingers slide down into the deep furry ravine between the muscled rocks. I suddenly had the unquenchable desire to bury my face in that same spot and have him squeeze the hell out of my nose as it poked down into that gulley. My cock was tenting my own pajama bottoms under the table and I was super-happy the Formica top prevented my lust from being revealed. “Only cranked out seven hundred crunches last night, though. I think I’m just destined to have this tank-like mid-section forever. It’s hard as stone and you can count my chiseled abs beneath the hair, but it’s still thick like a keg. My trainer says that’s just the way some big guys are built. He punches my gut constantly to show me just how solid it is, but I don’t think I’ll be getting down to a size thirty waist any time soon.” The elder monster of a man pounded on his own stomach to let the deep solid sound reiterate what he was saying. I almost impulsively reached out and punched it, too – catching myself at the last moment and sticking my hands under the table. I absent-mindedly started stroking my hard cock through my pajamas – a motion that I’m sure was pretty obvious to my huge uncle. “Ralphie, my trainer, has also started requesting that I use his body when I’m doing my bench pressing. I think the big dude gets off on my massive chest. He says he’s never seen a dude balloon out as quickly as I have. I don’t tell him about all the press-ups I do at home – I want him to think all this growth is just from the gym – so he feels good about his training. Yesterday, he followed me into the locker room and asked if he could grope my pectoralis major muscle and I quickly told him only if that meant my chest, because I didn’t want to get kicked out for doing anything nasty.” It was taking all of my strength not to moan out loud. The way he was rubbing his own massive pecs and his hard abs – on top of him telling me his adventures at the gym with his more-than-average-hot trainer was pushing me close to the orgasmic point of no return. I had the sudden distinct feeling that Uncle Buck knew exactly what his motions and his talk were doing to me. It was almost like he was testing a theory or something. “Willie, my boy, I can’t see my feet anymore when I stand straight up – my chest pokes out too far. And I’ve got really big feet – if you hadn’t noticed.” I had noticed. One day, while he took a nap, I had put my foot and sneaker inside of his loafer that was by the front door. It hadn’t even been a tight fit. He wrapped his big hands around gallon jugs, across the tops of big cans, and even mostly covered the softball when we went out in the yard to pitch. He often reached out to shake my hand when I came in from a weekend away or other random times and recently I had begun to think he did it just to show off how huge he was compared to me. He also always squeezed until I said ‘uncle’ – one of his favorite ‘older man’ jokes. “Yeah, these big things feel like they’ve always got the most awesome pump. None of my shirts fit anymore. I have to leave three or four buttons undone, just so I don’t pop them off when I inhale. There are dudes at work that never look me in the face when they’re talking to me. They’re too mesmerized by the two monstrous blobs of muscle stretching out the material of my shirt. And, just yesterday, one of these huge mothers ripped through my polo. I kid you not. I was sitting at my desk trying to crunch some numbers for a report and it just wasn’t coming out right. I took a deep breath to release some of the tension and suddenly that blue polo I love so much burst at the seams and my right pec exploded into the air. It was kind of like 3-D porn. I instantly got major wood sitting at my desk and looking down at my hard gigantic pec popping out from the torn material of my shirt. I swear I beat off now more from looking at my own chest than looking at hot pics in magazines.” We had now entered into a completely surreal conversation. It felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone. My huge elder uncle had never talked like this before. He had certainly teased in the past – referencing how sore he was from a workout or something like that, but this, right now, was borderline sex talk. It was like Uncle Buck was trying to make me ejaculate. I had moved beyond a place of embarrassment – or any kind of fear. My arm was clearly jacking my cock under the table – there was no mistaking that. I was also breathing heavy and moaning every now and then at something the elder man shared. I looked him in the eye – my confidence obvious and intoxicating. “And Big Buck, are those magazine pics of women or men?” “Which would make you happy, William?” “Men, but you knew that, didn’t you?” “Yes.” “So which makes you happy, Uncle Buck?” “The same as you, Will.” “For the record, I beat off now more from thinking about your chest than anything else, too.” “And I think about your cute twenty-nine year old lips pressed into these heaving monsters constantly.” I instantly stood up and walked around the table. At the same time he pushed back his chair and turned it toward the middle of the room. I slid onto his thick-as-hell thighs and was only stopped when my crotch slammed into the tree trunk sticking up under his pajamas. It was like putting on a warm tight glove or a well-worn jacket – we fit perfectly together. Buck’s magnificent monstrous chest was heaving up and down – clearly, he was overwhelmed from having me this close. The big dude was actually shaking a little. Aw, Big Buck was nervous. He didn’t move at all – only his whale-like pecs bobbed up and down. He was staring at me with so much need it was almost unbearable. I could see in his eyes he was begging me to only move forward if it was what I wanted. I saw, in his gaze, that I had the most power at that moment – even though his big body was twice the size of mine. He obviously knew the next few moments were going to send his hugeness into a flaming pit of unending desire and he didn’t want to submit himself to me unless I was ‘all in’ as well. This made me the happiest little munchkin in all the land of Oz. I looked down at his bulging mega twin muscled zeppelins and then back up to his teary eyes. “Pec-tacular.” I raised my hands and pressed into the tough as stone meat protruding menacingly towards my face. I ran my open palms along the fur-covered hardness and purred like a kitten. No matter how hard I pressed, the skin didn’t give at all. I looked back into his eyes. “In 3-D pec-orama.” I moved my hands to each nipple and trapped the jutting hard nubs between my forefingers and thumbs. I squeezed hard and twisted at the same time. My big uncle clenched his jaw and grunted in joy. I squeezed harder and I saw veins tighten in his neck. I stopped my abuse and let my thumbs brush against the plugs as the tips of my fingers rested against what felt like metal of some kind. “Pec-normous.” The big older man had still not moved a limb. He was simply watching me act like a small boy on his first trip to an amusement park. Every now and then his tree trunk cock would twitch against mine and it was like someone whacking my rod with the back of his big hand. It only brought pleasure, though. The heaving of his chest intensified as I brought my puckered lips toward his magnanimous beefy right pec. The anticipation was so palpable I was nervous one of us was going to have a heart attack. It was like a bolt of lightning zapped his body when my lips lightly touched his steel-like skin. The two pecs ballooned thicker and a hell-of-a-lot bigger as he sucked in enough air to fill the hull of an ocean liner. My face was brusquely pushed back just by the force of his enlarging mound of muscle. His hands shot out and he roughly grabbed my thighs – his big hands reaching more than halfway around them. His cock found the opening of his pajamas and shot straight out like a rocket shooting through some clouds. I let out a little yelp from the grip of his big hands, but I did not move my lips. I kept them plastered against his mammoth pec. It took him a good twenty seconds to recover from the blast of orgasmic electricity caused by my kiss. When he finally un-tensed, he released a large burst of air. “Fuucckkkkkk!” I let my tongue slide out and take a big swipe at his bulging pec muscle. I tasted sweat, but mostly I tasted man. And it tasted better than anything I had ever licked before. “Pec-licious.” “It’s taking every ounce of my strength not to squeeze the hell out of you right now. I’ve never ever been so turned on.” “Nor have I, Big Buck.” “I can’t lie, I built these things in hopes you’d like them, Will. Whenever I wanted to quit while I was doing press-ups I’d fantasize that you were lying on my back – enjoying the ride. That helped me to never quit. I’ve got super pecs mainly because of your inspiration. The dream that one-day you’d want to feel them kept me going. I’ve wanted you for so long, William.” “And I’ve wanted to have my face squeezed between those big slabs of beef ever since you started that deep crevice, Buck.” “There’s no time like the present, sweet little man.” It was hard for me to imagine anything comparing to what I felt next. The first time a bear tasted honey. The first time a man topped Mount Everest. The first time the first man orgasmed. The first Christmas being celebrated. Nothing I could think of even seemed to come close. Having Uncle Buck’s big paw pulling my face in between his bulging muscle mattresses was in a league all its own. Wild horses, stampeding bulls, charging rhinos, or an army of tanks could not have prevented the ejaculation that celebrated my face being compressed between two hard walls of sweaty muscled elder man-meat. I imploded mentally and exploded sexually. It took me a few seconds to realize the same thing was happening to the monstrous man underneath me. We didn’t just spew, we gushed like broken fire hydrants. I didn’t think it was possible, but Buck’s body turned even more steel-like as he shot volumes of stinging hot forceful cum against my body and his. The man emitted a sound that could only be compared to the rumble of a huge building being destroyed by dynamite. I was quickly covered in so much muscleman hot spunk it felt like I was wearing a thick winter coat. “God, I haven’t cum since you got here. I wanted to wait for this moment.” The idea of this elder behemoth not having any kind of sexual release for six months because of me actually made my worn out cock spurt a few more gobs of nectar into my pajama bottoms. I was caked in Buck juice and I could tell it was going to feel like I had on a suit of armor when it dried. My face was still trapped between the bulging mountains that were his pecs. My cheeks ached and it felt like someone was trying to rearrange the bone structure of my head. I actually had to wait for Buck to release me. I pulled away and looked down at my sopping bare upper torso. I was in a cocoon of cum. Buck wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me into him – so the jism would be like glue that kept us together. I could still feel his heart pounding through his giant chest – the man still hadn’t calmed down. He caressed my back as he held me. “I promise to make you so happy, Will. And I promise to keep on growing.” Sweeter words had never been spoken.
  7. “God, I’m so horny in the morning,” Sam said, flexing his gorgeous arms. “You’re horny all the time,” I replied, looking up from my iPad, where I was reading the morning news. “What can I say? I’m fifty-seven. I’m in my prime,” he responded, flexing his arms even harder and grunting at the same time. “You’ll be in your prime until you’re in the grave,” I said, smiling and gazing at his furry big body. “Who knew married life would suit me so well, “ he said, moving closer to me – his biceps still reaching up to the ceiling and his manly log starting to harden in his briefs. “I get sex any time I want it, I grope my little man any time I want to, walking around in my skivvies all day is acceptable, not having to hide my hard-ons, and squeezing the hell out of that pretty body of yours whenever I feel like it. Damn, I feel like a king.” “Well, your highness, make sure you put that carton of milk back in the fridge so it doesn’t spoil,” I said, turning back down to my iPad to tease him mercilessly – he knew I could never really resist his body. “Make me, weakling,” he said, teasing me back and nudging my side with his hardening cock – even as he still flexed his mammoth arms. This kind of talk always meant my husband of two months was feeling very frisky. Even if I could have made my body not want him completely, it would have been futile since he was clearly in the mood for sex. A bunch of wild rhinos couldn’t prevent him from getting what he wanted when he was horny. Whoever thought men needed sex less, as they got older, had obviously never met my man. Sam’s libido seemed to have increased fifty-fold since we had tied the knot. He had also gained about five pounds of pure muscle. He said I was his muse for growing and his outlet for a sudden greater need for sex. At his annual physical two weeks ago his doctor of twenty years said Sam had the body and spirit of a man in his twenties. This had made the big older man pound me as if he had been the Hulk that evening. He had five orgasms that night – like he was trying to prove the doctor right or something. I had felt like I should have sent the doc a thank you card or gift. The big thick lead pipe in his underwear shoved against me for a second time. “Punch me, weak man,” Sam said, gruffly.” I stood up and pulled back my arm. When my fist hit his abs there was a loud smack that echoed throughout the house. His cock twitched noticeably beneath the cotton material and immediately the thing lengthened some more. The man let out an appreciative moan and tightened his raised fists to make his biceps balloon up even more. “Hmmm, felt it, pal, but it was like someone hit me with a pillow,” he purred at me. “Your big old hubby is built like a tank. Like a big, powerful, horny tank.” “I used all my strength, honey,” I replied, knowing the news would please him. “Oh fuck yeah, my little hubby throwing mousey punches and his big man not feeling a thing,” Sam said, pressing his entire body into mine – my knuckles still stinging a little against his abs. “Chow down on a nip, please.” The ‘please’ was unnecessary. It was just a quick, simple way for him to make me know he loved and respected me. He knew I liked it more when he ordered me around – when he dominated me. Why else would I have chosen a larger, older, more powerful muscle daddy as a husband? I didn’t need someone to please me. I needed someone to protect me and boss me around. I wanted a mentor . . . a teacher . . . a disciplinarian – in short, I wanted a man. Sam was the foreman of a huge construction company. He told big men what to do all day long and he loved it. He treated me like his toy at home and, in return, I kept an efficient house – paying the bills, keeping everything in order, and taking care of his every need. If that made me the weaker partner, then so be it. I knew, in the deepest part of my soul, that this big man would do anything for me and that freed me up to be his little babe. I moved my mouth over to his protruding nipple and clamped my teeth down on it hard. He let out a loud moan that seemed to shake the foundation of our big house. He never stopped flexing, though. “Oh holy hell! That feels fucking great,” he said, grinding his crotch into me even harder and pinning me up against the kitchen island. “Gnaw on that nub, boy. Make your daddy leak some pre! Damn, I feel so powerful – like I could lift a house with just my cock.” The first time Sam had seen my twenty-something-years collection of comic books he had instantly realized I had a superhero fetish. That had been our fourth or fifth night together and I had invited him over for a dinner of my special Bolognese. The food and the fine wine had blown him away – but it had been my fascination with comics that had thrilled him the most. Later, when we were making out on the sofa he had started whispering things to turn me on – like ‘does the kid want a muscleman to take care of him’ and ‘how ‘bout you let this big older man be your superhero, boy.’ I had been so turned on I shot a load before we had even taken off one stich of clothing. This had pleased him so much. Now, any chance he could, he’d talk about himself as if he had superpowers just to turn me on even more. It worked like a dream. “You make me want to bend girders into the shape of hearts, kid,” Sam continued, all with the intention of thrilling me. “My big paws gripping that big long stick of steel and bending it like it was nothing – just to please my little man. I love you so much.” “I love you more,” I said, temporarily pulling my mouth away from his furry nipple. He immediately brought his arms down. He grabbed me at my waist with both of his big paws. He easily lifted me in the air – until my face was even with his. He had a serious look on his face – but I instantly knew he was kidding. Man, his big bushy moustache turned me on. “That’s not possible, boy,” he said, roughly, staring into my eyes. “Sure it is, there’s a hell of a lot more of you to love,” I quickly replied. This make him burst out with laughter. I shook in his arms. He pulled me into his body and wrapped his arms around my upper torso and began to squeeze – even as he continued to vibrate from my joke. I brought my lips to his neck and let his furry cheek scrape against the side of my face. He was compressing me so much I was finding it a little hard to breathe, but it felt so damn good. I was surrounded by hard muscle. My crotch bobbed against his and I could feel his bulging hard on pulsing bigger and bigger. “Fuck, I want to squeeze you so tight you meld into me,” Sam said with so much love in his voice it was almost overwhelming. “Then I could have you close to me all the time.” “If you hug me any tighter it’s going to happen,” I said in a whisper because I couldn’t suck in any air at all – and I started to get light headed. “Sorry, babe,” the big man said lessening his hold, “It’s just that you turn me on so much that I can’t control myself.” He moved a few inches and set my ass down on the island counter. He then pulled my legs up and I wrapped them around his thin hard waist. He pushed into me, so his hard cock pressed firmly into mine. He raised his arms back into a double biceps flex and then inhaled deeply. “I smell like I’m all man, don’t I, honey?” he asked, teasingly. “Yeah, that’s the aroma of a big old he-man when he secretes out testosterone and muscle-musk for his boy. My sweat is like the nectar of the gods, man. It’ll make you want nothing else to drink for the rest of your days.” I breathed in deeply and was enveloped in the intoxicating smell of a mixture of his sweat, his morning spooge, and that constant manly scent that lingered around him every second of every day. If I had been blindfolded I could have easily chosen him out of a group of smelly men. I had one of his dry unwashed tank-tops in my briefcase and pulled it out many times a day to get a good whiff of him – which caused me to get stiff every time, too. “My balls must be turning a dark blue, bud,” he said, shoving his cock against mine even harder. “If I don’t get some release pretty soon I’m going to have to plunge my dick through this marble countertop. I gotta fucking hard-on so strong it needs to do some damage. That’s what you cause in me, dude. I said ‘I do’ so I could have a raging boner every hour of every day for the rest of my life.” We had exchanged our wedding vows with him holding me in the air at his side with one arm. We had written our own vows and his had simply been, ‘I will fucking love you so hard for the rest of my life that you will never have a need or desire unfulfilled.’ I had gotten hard right there on the spot – those being the sweetest words I had ever heard. In the middle of our reception he had thrown me over his shoulder, walked up to the band, grabbed the microphone out of the hand of the lead singer mid-song, and announced that he was taking me to our hotel room so he could have his way with me – all night long. The hundred or so guys from his construction team in the midst of our five hundred guests had cheered so loudly you would have thought a jet was landing on the reception hall. My feet never touched the ground again until the next afternoon when we got to the airport for our honeymoon flight to Tahiti. If there had been a decent way for him to have his cock inside of me for the entire airplane ride he would have done it. As it was, he groped me so much that every other passenger in first class got pretty steamed up and the flight attendants each had to beat off a few times in the bathroom. This had been the first indication that I was married to the kind of powerful man who would never run out of cum or strength. I had come to learn that my first instincts had been right. Sam never got tired and he never passed up the opportunity to plow me hard. “Who’s your big man?” he asked. “You are,” I responded and he immediately leaned in to kiss me hard – his moustache brushing against my face and making me leak a little pre-cum. “Sex,” he grunted against me, as if he was some kind of prehistoric man. “Let’s put the milk away first, big guy,” I responded, giving him a parental look. He slid his big mitts under my ass and carried me over to where the milk was on the counter by the stove. I grabbed the jug and then he walked us over to the fridge. I opened the door and put the milk on the top shelf, letting the door close by itself as we walked away. Luckily, for me, today he was choosing the bedroom and not the kitchen island for our mid-morning fuck. Once inside the master bedroom, he tossed me on the bed and smiled down at me. “Let’s consummate this marriage for the millionth time,” he said, pulling down his briefs.
  8. I came as soon as the wooden bat in his hands snapped loudly into two pieces. Clearly, it had taken little effort for him to destroy the thing. He smiled as ropes of cum shot out of my hard cock across my abs and chest as I lay on the bed watching him. Ten minutes earlier I had already released a big load seeing him rip apart a heavy thick chain – pulling the middle steel link apart as his chest popped huge and hard. My body actually ached from the intensity of the orgasms. These feats of strength had actually been child’s play for him. “You’re my little cum factory,” he said as he jumped on the bed and smothered my convulsing body with his huge muscled torso. His thick manly mustache tickled my upper lip as he smashed his mouth into mine. It was more of an assault than a kiss. I was still ejaculating, but his hard body pinned me to the bed as if a huge boulder had been placed on top of me. His hands groped me strongly, making my orgasm last a lot longer than usual. He grinded his hard cock against my body – his Calvin’s doing very little to hide his raging hard-on. It almost felt like a tank was rolling over me, but the pleasure was too intense for me to not like it. His voice even prolonged my spurting. “Yeah, bust another big nut for this old man,” he whispered deeply as he gazed into my eyes. “Wait ‘til I crush those billiard balls in each hand. You’re going to pop again as soon as you see and hear them pop. Let me hear you say something again.” “Can I get you some coffee, Mr. Samuelson?” I said softly – still gasping for air from my orgasm. “Oh fuck yeah, you’re such a good little assistant,” the big man said as he shoved his crotch into me even harder. “That first day you bent over to get something out of the bottom drawer of your desk and I got so hard I almost ripped the crotch out of my dress pants. Say something else.” “I finished all those letters for you, sir, and I’ve done all the filing, Is there anything else before I go?” I replied. “Oh hell yeah. I’m going to cum!” he yelled. That was the only warning I got. By now, he was grinding his cock against me like some kind of wild animal. He started spewing hard and his face got dark red from the exertion. Thick veins popped out all over his body from the strain of the orgasm. He let out an intense deep scream-growl and squeezed the hell out of my much smaller body. He never stopped staring into my eyes, though. It was like my gaze gave him even more pleasure. When his explosion finally stopped, he nuzzled the dense fur above his upper lip in the crook of my neck and I purred like a kitten. The weight of his big body was so comforting. “One day, I want to fuck you on my desk,” he whispered as he continued to make my toes curl with his mustache. Seeing that hot ass of yours sticking up in the air as you’re bent over the edge will send me through the roof!” Hearing Mr. Samuelson talk this way made my dick stay super hard. This was the gentle, mild-mannered, generous owner of the company I worked for. I had been his personal assistant for two years. He had never raised his voice, never cussed, and never ever let on that he had the hots for me. He had only ever been a gentleman. I, meanwhile, had crushed on the huge older man every single second since I had been offered the job. During my interview I had almost spewed when he raised his hand to push his finger and thumb along his thick mustache as he looked over my resume. His arm had ballooned out under his dress shirt and I could tell he had one of the hottest muscle daddy bodies I’d ever seen hiding beneath his clothes. The day I had walked into his office to find him bending horseshoes into globs of metal had been the start of our journey to getting together. He had told me it was a great way for him to relieve stress, but I also knew he had noticed how my crotch had swelled as soon as I watched his hands twist metal as if it were nothing. “I’ve got a lot of power,” he had said casually. “I can see that,” had been my simple reply. A month later had been the company picnic and Mr. Samuelson had worn a tight fitting polo shirt. It had been the first time I had seen all of his big muscle daddy bulges highlighted in a glorious way. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him the entire day. He, of course, noticed me staring at him like some kind of school kid with a crush. Late in the afternoon he had asked how I had come to the picnic. I told him I had ridden with one of the other employees. He asked he could give me a lift home and I jumped at the chance, telling my co-worker to go on without me. As soon as we had gotten into his Porsche his big hand had come over to my thigh and as he squeezed it hard enough to make me wince he asked if I got off on strength. Straight to the point – there was no beating around the bush or even testing the waters. My mouth had dropped open wide and all I could do was shake my head yes. He had then asked if I was interested in coming over to see him lift. I’m sure the anticipatory drool that had dribbled down my chin was all the answer he needed. The next thing I knew we were in his home gym and he was benching some mind blowing weight as I looked on – wanting to whip out my cock and beat off, but letting my manners lead me instead of my dick, for once. He had taken off his shirt for the second round of repetitions and then ordered me to sit on his stomach and play with his chest as he lifted the bar for many more sets. I had been overwhelmed by the situation and talked complete gibberish the entire time. “You’re so big, Mr. Samuelson,” I said. “God, it makes me hard when you call me that,” he said, and the steel like thing lying between my ass cheeks proved it was true. “There’s something about a cute guy giving me older man respect that makes my juices boil like you would not believe.” “Can I get you anything, Mr. Samuelson?” I asked as I latched onto his hard nipples and twisted tightly. “Oh fuuuuuccckkkk,” he offered back. “May I bring you a coffee, sir, with some of my cream in it?” I teased and twisted harder. “Lay across my hands, kid. I’d rather be benching you,” he said as he placed the heavy bar back in its holder. I was standing up in a flash. I let my body fall against his waiting palms – one giant hand against my chest and the other against my throbbing crotch. I kept my body stiff as he began to press me up and down. It was the most erotic moment of my entire life up to that point. I looked down into his calm happy face and that had been the first time I had ever noticed his intense stare – as if he were reading my mind or, better yet, my soul. “Keep talking, babe,” he said as he effortlessly cranked out reps with my body. “You’re so big and strong, Mr. Samuelson. You make me feel so protected and safe,” I answered, knowing it would thrill him to no end. “Sweet fuck, that’s going to make me squirt!” he bellowed and continued to lift my body up and down as his cock emptied a thick load into his pants – causing me to come on the spot, as well. That was the day we learned about each other’s fetishes. I loved strength and he got off on respect. It was also the first day he pried my ass cheeks apart with his thick cock – plowing me multiple times like an expert. I fell asleep that night in his bulging strong arms mumbling ‘Mr. Samuelson’ over and over – thrilling him in a way that even my ass couldn’t please. Fast forward to five months later to when I practically lived at his place and every night he would offer me some feat of strength in return for me doing a little role play scenario where I would be respectful and subservient to his manliness. On this particular night, prior to his snapping the bat in two and ripping apart the chain, I had played the part of a respectful and very attentive waiter serving him a meal. I had left him a note on the front door telling him to go straight to the dining room and strip to his underwear before sitting down. When I had come out in only an apron to take his order, he almost creamed in his briefs as soon as I said, “Mr. Samuelson, it is so good to see you. It will be my pleasure to serve you tonight, sir. Do not hesitate to ask me for anything.” He had immediately ordered me to turn around so he could lower his face and plow it into my bare ass, practically lifting me off the floor with just his nose. Meanwhile, his big hand had pumped up and down on my cock until it made the apron stick out pornographically. I took his order for dinner with so much daddy respect I feared the guy might shoot his load at any second. “Would the gentleman like some oysters this evening, sir? I hear they are an excellent aphrodisiac,” I teased, “Although I don’t think the big gentleman needs any help in the area of his sex drive.” “Oh, the idea of something wet and gooey sliding down my throat sounds good, boy,” he teased back. “Would the kind sir please allow this waiter the chance to grope that big chest?” I asked, looking lustfully into his eyes. “Grope away, young man. Grope away,” he answered, sucking in a deep breath to make his pecs swell up even more. At the same time, the magnificent Mr. Samuelson pushed his chair back and patted his thick thighs. I straddled his legs and sat down – feeling his thick log against my bare ass. I immediately started kneading his monstrous pecs with my hands as he stared into my eyes with a burning passion that was almost too much to handle. He didn’t move at all. He simply let me get my fill of his marvelous fur-covered chest. “Would the big kind gentleman like a kiss?” I asked – making him smile and I loved how that made his mustache seem even thicker. “Yes he would,” came the reply. I leaned forward and let the bristles of the dense mustache tease my lips – brushing against them. I then pressed in hard and kissed Mr. Samuelson properly. I felt the log beneath my ass hardening. After a good five minutes, I pulled my head away and then climbed off the handsome daddy. “Would the gentleman prefer red or white wine, tonight?” I asked, taking on my role once again. “I think I’d like something full and hearty,” he answered. “Red it is. Thank you, sir,” I replied and he moaned a little at my response. For the next hour I served him and made him feel like a king. We would have to take breaks every now and then to allow one of us to grope different parts of the other – him preferring my ass and me preferring his chest, arms, or mustache. When the meal was over I sat in his lap again and spoon-fed both of us a bowl full of mango sorbet. We licked the spoon together – him staring at me lovingly the entire time. “Forget about the dishes for now, son. This daddy needs to show off for you. I’m aiming to make you shoot a total of four times tonight,” he said, taking me into his arms, standing up, and then easily carrying me into the bedroom. Before he started his destruction of the bat, chain, and billiard balls I asked if I could snap a picture of him in his briefs, saying he looked even more masculine than usual this evening. He obliged by standing in the corner and looking off into the distance. I snapped a few shots. The show began shortly after that and, as usual, I was thrilled beyond my wildest dreams. He had been wrong about one thing, however. That night I ended up shooting six big loads before falling asleep in his powerful arms.
  9. I remember the first time I saw Coach use his super strength. He thought he was the only one in the gym, but I had stayed late to make sure the team’s uniforms were all clean for the upcoming game. The man’s sonic moaning boomed through the empty building – causing me to leave the laundry room to go see what was happening. I knew it wasn’t sounds of pain, but it did seem like someone was getting a lot of pleasure somewhere. I followed the noise. When I got to the weight room two things became obvious – one, I finally figured out what was causing so many objects from the center to disappear and two, Coach had a special way he liked to masturbate. To look at him, you would have thought nothing more than there was a well-built older man. He was nice to look at, but really nothing spectacular. What I beheld that night, however, changed that opinion for the rest of my life. There, in the middle of the room, in the midst of all the weight and machines, stood the gray-haired shirtless Coach shoulder pressing a bar so loaded down with weights it had to be over a thousand pounds. On closer inspection, I could see that it was two bars twisted together, which would make sense since one bar could not withstand that much weight. Even two tightly twisted bars weren’t strong enough to prevent the contraption to bend dangerously low on either end. The man was cranking out reps with the enormous thing like it was a light twenty pounds. There wasn’t any sign of strain on his face, nor was he breaking out even in a slight sweat. It’s what he did next that definitely changed the course of my life forever. Coach simply moved his right hand over a little and dropped his left hand down to his side. He continued to crank out one-handed presses – with enough weight to equal a grand piano. I let out a gasp and instantly was scared I had given my presence away. The Coach continued to rep the insanely loaded bar without even a moment’s hesitation. At the same time, he undid his pants and pulled out his large hard cock. As he watched himself press the weight up and down in the air with one hand he started stroking his meat in the same deliberate rhythm. On the twenty-fifth lift the Coach let out a loud growl and shot a big load of cum across the gym – splattering the mirror where he was watching himself, which was about twenty feet away. Even in the midst of his orgasm, the super strong daddy continued to crank out repetitions. I was too shocked at his strength to dump my load right then and there, but I was harder than I had ever been in my entire life as I watched him one arm lift what surely was an impossible weight to even consider moving. When his orgasm finished, the elder man stuffed his dripping cock back into his pants with his free hand and then grabbed hold of the twisted double bars again. I watched in complete awe as Coach bent the bar upward – turning his wrists outward, which made the two weighted sides clank together up in the air above his head. The metal bar bent so easily you would have thought it was nothing tougher than a wet pasta noodle. Coach wasn’t even breathing hard. It was clear all of this was child’s play for him. The man stared at himself intently in the mirror. I knew I could not even begin to lift what he held aloft above his head, let alone even try to roll it across the floor. I now understood why there were so many busted padlocks around the gym, why people complained of cars being in different spots in the morning when they came out to the parking lot, and why I’d sometimes find scraps of missing forty pound plates on the floor. The Coach was some kind of superman and, until now, he had kept this a secret. I realized immediately that I would keep his secret, too. I wouldn’t even let him know that I knew. I would, however, come back to see him do more amazing things. That’s when I heard his voice and the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. “Matthews! Meet me in my office.” So, he had heard me, and he knew exactly whom it was that had made the noise. I thought about running, but something told me that wasn’t a good idea – and, besides, I was too turned on to not talk to him about his strength. I walked slowly behind him as he easily carried the weighted bar to his office – a room off the corner of the gym. When I entered, the mangled bar and weights were on the floor and he stood there with his arms across his chest watching me. “You’re working late, Matthews.” “Yes sir. I . . . um . . . wanted to finish the laundry. I’m sorry, Coach.” “Hell, why are you sorry, son. I knew you were here. You’ve got the best work ethic of any twenty-two year old I’ve ever met. I’ve been waiting to talk to you like this. Try and lift it.” I looked at him dumbfounded. He used his chin to indicate the thousand pound ‘elephant’ in the room. It was as if he could read my mind. I desperately wanted to see if all that poundage was real. I was kind of ready for the surprise of seeing it was all fake, just for the fun of it – made of Styrofoam or something else which looked real but made it easy to lift and manipulate. I walked over to the bent bar, which stood straight up in the air since the major weights rested on their side on the floor. I saw that Coach, himself, had twisted the two bars tightly together, but he had clearly had to widen the holes on the plates to get the double bars through them. That explained the warped middle holes of all the plates in the gym. It had always baffled me what machine had widened the things. I now knew it was Coach’s fingers. Even though it was fun to imagine all of what I had seen was a trick, I knew it wasn’t. Before I even touched the demolished bar I knew it would be solid as hell and unmovable. I pushed and nothing budged. I moaned a little. I shoved harder and, again, nothing moved even a fraction of an inch. The thing weighed over a thousand pounds. I’d never even begin to make it move. Coach walked over beside me – coming so close the heat off of his body enveloped mine and I was suddenly surrounded by something akin to a warm fire on a cold night or a blanket that’s wrapped snuggly around your body. He grabbed the top of the bent bar with one hand and lifted the thing into the air – easily. “Four of you couldn’t lift this thing, Matthews, and look at that, I do it with one hand. Pretty hot, yeah?” “Yes sir.” “Yes Coach.” “Yes . . . Coach.” “That’s a good lad. There’s nothing I like more than being a coach. Well, that is, after being super strong. Helping young guys reach their full potential is what I’m all about. I think you’ve got a lot of potential, Matthews. How about it? Would you like to be able to tie metal bars together as easily as you tie your shoes? You want to have the strength of a hundred men wrapped up into that body of yours? Just think of the things we could do together – and older superman with his younger super sidekick. I think we’d make a great team. How about you?” While he spoke, Coach had picked up a random forty-pound plate and proceeded to start poking his forefinger through the steel in the middle of the plate. It was like he was only poking through wet tissue. His fucking finger pushed through thick metal with a small pop that filled the room. I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around how much strength was in just one of his fingers. As if he could read my mind, the Coach started using his pinkie to do the same thing – making it clear that his kind of strength was coursing through all of him. He finally just folded the plate in two, as if he were closing a book. The screeching sound of metal being forced to do something it wasn’t supposed to was both extremely satisfying and a little terrifying. “Your big strong elder Coach needs a play buddy – someone he could wrestle and not worry about crushing. I want someone who can spot me when I bench a bus or a dump truck. I want someone to be able to take my ejaculations and not be blown apart with so many holes it looks like they’ve been in battle. I want to arm wrestle on the hood of an SUV and ruin the vehicle when I slam my opponent’s strong arm down with enough force to make the thing look like it was totaled in an accident. I want to watch a guy get close to lifting as much as me and see him get turned on by his own strength. I want to fuck so hard that buildings collapse around us.” “Um . . . was there a question in there, Coach?” I asked after a few seconds of silence. He was now breathing heavy and his crotch was back to full mast. “Not really, son. You’ve already been chosen,” the elder superman responded. “I just thought I’d give you a preview of what I’m going to do for you.” “I think my answer’s been poking in my pants since I saw you lift all that weight earlier, Coach,” I replied. “I only ask one thing. I want you to put a ring on my finger. I want it to be for good. I want to be two married supermen. I want to be a kept boy.” This pleased the elder man tremendously. He gripped the edge of the plate in his hands and squeezed some of the metal off between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. It was as easy as if he were tearing off a chunk of bread. He then took the ripped metal and started rolling it between his palms – compressing hard. Soon he had a perfect small cylinder of metal. He squished it slowly between his thumb and forefinger to flatten it a little. The Coach then blew on it – making it clear that his little handiwork had made the metal so hot it could easily be molded. When he deemed it ready, he took my left hand and wrapped the thin sliver of demolished steel around my ring finger. He tied it in a little gem like bump on top. It was clear that thing wasn’t coming off my finger unless the big man took it off himself. I could still feel warmth radiating from the manipulated steel. I looked up into the elder man’s eyes. “Time to give you super powers, boy,” Coach said to me, smiling. “With just one round of my sperm you’ll be benching four hundred. Imagine what you’ll be doing after a week of my plowing. Don’t worry, I can control my ejaculations until you’re more powerful.”
  10. I was at my local gay watering hole called ‘Spew’ enjoying a few beers and chatting with other regulars when a big meaty hand drops and covers my entire shoulder from behind. A voice – at once familiar and out of place – called my name. “Little James Parker – how the hell have you been? I turned around and was immediately blessed with a view that would excite any card carrying gay man, but I also felt a memory of fear that started in my toes and quickly shot to the top of my head. Before me stood one of my biggest challenges in high school – Coach Duffy. Martin Duffy to be exact. He was still the drop dead gorgeous fur covered he man he was when I was in high school eight years ago – radiating a manliness that seemed to shoot out of every magnificent hair on his body. He did appear larger than he was all those year ago and that made me momentarily forget how evil he was back then. His smile was still white straight-teethed brilliance and his scruffiness made him look like he was going to throw you over his shoulder and take you to his cabin in the woods for weeks, just so he could have his way with you. I pushed all of my immediate lust aside and mustered up the most bitchy diva attitude that I could. “Well, if it isn’t Coach Duffster. Who let you in?” The big man’s smile actually disappeared for a few seconds and I could tell the use of his old nickname – as well as my obvious contempt – shook him a little. He quickly regained control of himself, however, and smiled even brighter. His blue-green eyes even sparkled more. “I guess I deserve that, James. I just wanted to say hi, that’s all.” His ‘tail between his legs’ attitude took me off guard. I had expected some cocky statement or, worse, a punch to my gut. For a split second we stared at each other. I could tell the guys around us didn’t know how to react. There was a feeling of awkwardness and no one was trying to change it. “No, really, Coach. What ARE you doing here?” “Hanging out with friends and getting a drink.” “But why here?” “Um . . . because I’m gay.” “Shut the fuck up, big boy! You lie.” My reaction made his smile grow and suddenly the shirtless muscled wonder relaxed. My shock seemed to please him. I was truly astounded by this revelation, thinking I had sized up all five hundred and thirty two students and staff at my high school and knew all the ‘friends of Dorothy.’ I even knew about the fullback a year behind me that liked to get pounded by smaller men – screaming like a little girl (no offense to the ladies intended). Nothing could have been more shocking to hear than this specific news. Duffy could see my disbelief and decided to clear it up instantly. He leaned in close as he spoke. “No lie. I like to suck cock.” “Oh my god!” I exclaimed and punched his right pec at the same time. I immediately noticed that his mound of beef, hanging so gloriously over his hard abs didn’t give at all. It was a lot harder than my fist. As if he instantly knew what I was thinking, Coach Duffy bounced his monstrous chest a few times. I had always mesmerized by a guy that could control that part of his body in that way. He clearly liked thrilling me – and let the bouncing continue for a few more repetitions. “Since when?” I suddenly asked. “Since forever. Before you were even born. I knew I was gay when I was eleven.” “No fucking way. Coach Martin fucking Duffy is a poofter!” “Card carrying.” “Then why the hell were you so hard on me during gym class for three years, you Neanderthal?” “I had a feeling when I came to talk to you our conversation would final land on this topic,” he said, looking down, as if he were ashamed, and taking a quick swig of his beer. “Well of course it was, muscle daddy, you were relentless!” I noticed his moustache twitched, along with his chest, arms, and crotch when I called him muscle daddy. That information was instantly stored for retrieval later on. Right now, I was only interested in hearing what he had to say about being Atilla the Duffster in gym. “Um, there were a couple of reasons,” he stammered. “Well, just start with one, lumberjack!” I was using different titles for him to see which ones turned him on. Clearly, he was an outdoors kind of guy because this one caused some twitching, too. I was already warming up to my old teacher, but I didn’t want to let him know that. I wanted answers for all the nightmares he had caused. “First of all, I wanted to toughen you up. When you came to the high school you were out, but you weren’t confident about it. You had a couple of close girlfriends, but you didn’t stand up for yourself. You were also hardheaded and would listen to anyone that tried to help you. Remember the first week of school I tried to give you some advice and you just stood there – not looking me in the eye and body language that told me to mind my own business. I decided to take a different route for my help. I started giving you grief. I paired you up with some of the guys who taunted you the most when we did partner activities. I called on you first to do new activities. I even gave you huge partners to wrestle during that part of freshmen year. And it worked. By the end of that first year, you stood your ground with any student or teacher that challenged you or bullied you. You actually became a role model for other students – gay or straight. Senior year you got voted class president and were awarded the most likely to succeed superlative. I’m not saying I caused all of that to happen, I’m just saying I helped. I’m not sure the guy that came walking up that first day of freshman year could have advanced so quickly without a little toughness from me. I always had your back, though. Anyone that ever bullied you got a personal visit from Coach Duffy – making sure they didn’t do it again and that they never spoke about the visit.” A flood of awareness washed over me. Immediately, I realized that everything he said was true. Gym class had toughened me up – prepared me for many battles that awaited me. Hindsight helped me to see that, now. So much unnecessary anger flew out of me at that exact moment. My shoulders relaxed . . . completely . . . probably for the first time in many years. I also had always thought my staff member in shining armor – a rumored intimidator of bullies – had been Principal Jenkins. I looked at the gorgeous Coach in front of me with new eyes. He could sense all that was happening within me. He didn’t say another word. He just waited for me to process things. “You said there were two reasons you were hard on me. What was the second one?” The big man’s face turned red. His arms tensed hard and his chest heaved up and down. I actually knew what he was going to say before he said it. I had sensed it all night . . . and I suddenly realized I felt the same way. “I . . . um . . . needed to hide some inappropriate feelings,” he said softly – and I actually heard some people around us emit dreamlike ‘ahhhhs.’ “I’m twenty-six now, Coach.” “Yes you are,” he replied, stepping closer to me.
  11. I didn’t remember leaving the bar or saying goodbye to Harry or anyone else. My last memory of the night was my giant man’s arm wrapped around me offering the kind of security that must only be equaled by a mother’s womb. I was sucking on Bud’s giant chest and marveling at the fact that the hunky bartender and I were equals when it came to submitting ourselves to the massive senior citizen holding us off the floor. It still amazed me how effortless it was for Bud Stevens to lift two full-grown men – or, for that matter, twenty full-grown men. It was just an afterthought for him – oh I’m holding two guys as easily as some normal guy might hold two socks. I also remembered ejaculating so many times in the last twenty-four hours that I was sure I had lost about six pounds. I was pretty sure the constant tightening of my stomach to push out loads had given me a nice six-pack. Before I opened my eyes I registered many things around me. First, I had a raging, Bud Stevens-induced hard on. Something that I had come to realize would be a perpetual state of being. It was going to be impossible to stay flaccid around such golden ager magnificence. Secondly, I could feel my cock and legs pressed up against a flesh covered granite wall that didn’t give at all if I pushed forward. I knew Bud’s own redwood-sized thigh was beside me. I quickly contemplated rubbing my erection against his hard-as-hell muscled skin to get off, but then I thought I should save my load for my huge gorgeous boyfriend. The third thing I noticed was that my hand rested on a steel-like hard cylinder object that was clearly as thick as a telephone pole. I used the word ‘rested’ because my hand was way too small to grip Bud’s giant engorged tool. The thing pulsed like it was being pumped with enough testosterone to fill an ocean. Lastly, there was the overwhelming orgasmic aroma of something clearly akin to what the Hulk must smell like. There were smells that could turn a guy’s stomach and then there were smells, like this one, that could cause you to leak pre-cum because they were so manly, so full of beast musk, and so fucking intoxicating that you couldn’t control your body’s reaction. I knew without even looking that my face was in the cavernous expanse of Bud’s beastlike hairy pit. Before I even raised my eyelids I let my tongue dart out and take a long slow swipe at what I new was a salt and pepper haired space the size of a hangar. “Fuuuckkkkk Yeahhhhhh,” Bud rumbled, and the word seemed to shoot through my body like a massive aircraft was landing beside me. The intensity of the wonderful he-man pungent fragrance seemed to multiply tenfold. The man radiated a bouquet of power that was instantaneously addictive and overwhelming in a good way. The cock beneath my hand bounced up, forcing my arm off of his stomach. When Bud’s rod got fully hard not even a bulldozer would be able to keep it in place. I knew soon the massive thing would be sticking straight up in the air – as sturdy as a deeply sunk girder. The big arm that was draped down my back pulled me closer to the humongous body beside me. I was suddenly sealed between two thick sheets of human granite. My face was plastered harder into his pit, my cock and legs were smashed against his mountain range of a leg, and my upper body was pushed back sharply because his thickly dense lats muscle was shoving against me even unflexed. If I had been asked, there would have been no way for me to explain how this man made me feel. Safe and secure didn’t come close. I knew Bud Stevens could give me anything I wanted. I knew he could do anything I asked. I also knew no one or nothing could get close to me unless he allowed it. I felt like I was part of him – like I was one of his huge muscles or another appendage. He clearly never wanted to be separated from me for very long. Whenever he could he had to be holding me or, at least, touching me in some way. There wasn’t a part of any night when his big arms or legs weren’t draped across me. I wasn’t a plaything or subservient in any way. We were both master and servant. He needed me to make his huge body and unimaginable strength make sense. I needed him to do amazing things that would astound me. All the other people in the world gawking and appreciating his power didn’t come close to how one compliment from me would make him feel. He had loved me way before he was huge, but becoming a superman – the kind of guy I had always fantasized about – only made him love me more. He wanted every waking moment to be about pleasing me – which, in turned, pleased him very much. I wanted every waking moment to be about me loving him. I gurgled as I licked and kissed his pit. My crotch – barely able to move in his steel-like embrace – thrust against his leg excitedly. “My big old nip put my boy out like a light last night. You got your mouth on that big thing, started sucking, and went to sleep like a baby,” Bud explained. “You slept through me arm wrestling every man in the bar two or three times – even as I held you against my body. You also missed me lifting Harry’s pick up truck with one hand with everyone in the back. Harry bounced back pretty quickly after his tsunami-sized ejaculation. I guess the guy’s even more fit than I thought. He made me bend a few parking meters in front of the bar because the guy who takes care of the meters is a friend of his and he said he’d love to see the shocked look on his face. And lastly, you missed me shoving the entire building a few feet backwards from the street because Harry said the city ordinance wouldn’t allow outdoor seating unless the thing sat further back. I got Harry to film all of it and send it to you on your phone. I didn’t want you to be disappointed about what you missed. I knew you needed your sleep. Carrying you around as I did everything was half the fun. God, I missed you, though. I watched you sleep when we got home and loved how – even out cold – your hands had to play with my biceps and chest. You also talk in your sleep. You kept saying ‘So big and strong,’ over and over.” “I did not,” I said, my voice muffled by his hairy pit. “Okay, I made that part up, but the rest is true, sweet Connor,” he said, squeezing me even harder. By this point, his cock was standing straight up like the Eiffel Tower. I reached down and grabbed what seemed like basketball-sized balls. I squeezed with all my might, knowing he’d barely feel it. He did, however, purr like a mountain lion from the caress. I was clamping down on the most sensitive part of a man’s body with all my strength and it felt like love pats to him. I wiggled my head and he sensed I wanted to speak more clearly, so he moved his arm out a little – allowing me to move my head. “Big man, you know the number one rule is no strength feats are done without me,” I said, trying to sound like I was chastising him. “You moved a building and I didn’t get to see it!” “Yeah, I do, sweet Connor, but you were in la-la land and I wanted to still show off. I can do all of those things and more just for you to make it up to you,” the big man said and I could tell he was smiling. “How ‘bout I lift a building for you? Or what if I make light poles along the street outside into animals for you? I could also do one arm curls with two Hummers to get your juices flowing.” He was certainly pleasing me with these promises, but I also knew he was getting himself closer and closer to a regular morning ejaculation as he talked about all the things he could do to show off for me. We both got off on his strength – equally. For me, it was the fact that the man was able to do anything. For him, it was how much I loved what he could do. I was now stroking his hard giant shaft as best I could with my little hand. I knew he needed to get off first thing in the morning if he was going to be able to do anything with his day. He could barely go a few hours without having to relieve himself. That’s how powerful his body had become. He clearly had so much testosterone that fifty ejaculations a day barely kept him from being horny all the time. It was a good thing he didn’t work, since he would have ended up spending more time in a bathroom stall than he would of at his desk. “Make some plaster fall,” I ordered strongly and, instantly, I felt his cock, not to mention his entire body, shoot harder from my words. It wasn’t often, but if I told him to do something . . . or if I even asked him to do something he became so turned on I was amazed he didn’t immediately bust out a big wad. Having the love of his life want something . . . order something . . . was wonderful. Pleasing me was so second nature to him – as easy as his brain sending a message to his arm to do some amazing strength feat. The humongous elder dude had to hold back always – his strength and size was just too much, but if I gave him an order he knew it usually meant he could go a little wild. His mega hand took over the pumping of his giant tool. I shook my head when I saw his finger briefly next to mine – redwoods against toothpicks. His breathing immediately got harder and every muscle in his body seemed to bulge with even more size and power. He was now in control of his rod, but he forced his stupendous body to wait for me. He would do nothing without my consent, my order, or my wish. I was his mission control and the giant rocket was led by me. “My big man pushed an entire building with just one hand,” I said to egg him on more. We both knew how my words could affect him. “He pushed the entire foundation back a few feet with just one hand. That gets me hot and bothered just thinking about it. My giant muscle gramps standing there with a truck full of grown men high above his head – held by one arm. I bet you pushed out a few reps, too, just to show off.” “Oh fuck, Connor,” he moaned, “You gotta let me shoot. You know me so well.” “Not yet, my elder muscleman,” I teased, “You need to be reprimanded for showing off without me getting to watch. You did strength feat while I snoozed sucking on your big nip.” “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It won’t happen again. Please let me unload,” he begged. “I need to blast into the ceiling for you.” “You gotta wait, big man, until I say shoot,” I answered, trying to sound as gruff as I could. “What did those parking meters ever do to you to deserve being warped so easily? Huh, large lover? And did all those kegs deserve being flattened and wadded up so easily last night at the bar? And what about our friend Harry, rubbing his thick cock against all of your impressive hardness as he pulled himself up and down using only your non-moving biceps. That was so hot.” “Oh, Connor man, you gotta be quiet,” he whined. “Even a superman has a limit to what he can withstand. I’m going to explode whether you say I can or not.” “No you aren’t, Bud Stevens,” I replied. “We both know you can withstand anything for your little man. If I told your cock to deflate right now, I know it would. If I told you to lift a building with just that rod, you know you could easily do it. You’ll wait for me like the good muscle daddy you are.” “Oh fuck, how do you know me so well? And how can you control me so much?” Bud asked loudly. “Because we are one and the same, my big monstrous lover,” I replied, clearly loving how much strength it was taking for him not to explode. “Remember, Bud, not through the ceiling. It would be too difficult to explain the hole to the people upstairs. Just bring down some plaster.” “I can’t promise that,” he said through gritted teeth, and I was beginning to see that the only thing the super strong man couldn’t control or manhandle was his own body. “Connor, I need some release and I need it now.” “Wait, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, teasing him mercilessly. His big arm clamped me to his side. We both knew I wasn’t moving any time soon. I might have had control over his cock, but he had control over my entire body. I looked up at his pleading face, smiling. I glanced, also, at the unsuspecting ceiling, was about to be pummeled. I then turned my attention to the rock hard giant missile poking up from his crotch. His balls had now shrunk to the size of a normal big man – that was a sure sign of how much duress he was under. I suddenly had pity on the big man and realized I wanted to see and hear the sonic boom. “Shoot,” I said, loudly. “Fuuuuuuckkkkkk!” he yelled. Knowing the man could have easily shot his wad through the six floors above us made the restrained rapid-fire of his ejaculation that much more satisfying. Cum shot up, smacked against the twelve-foot high ceiling of his place and immediately sent chunks of the plaster cascading around us. At least fourteen rounds of stone sized pellets of cum blasted the ceiling and then another seven loads went half way up before descending and splattering all over us. We were now covered in his musky man juice and pieces of the ceiling. I had a feeling I’d be scrubbing for hours to get clean. Finally his cock plopped against his hard abs, totally spent. The big man was breathless, but he still pulled me up onto his body with that one big arm around me and then latched his mouth onto mine to kiss me with enough power to make my own cock spew uncontrollably. He didn’t stop kissing until my body stopped bucking against his. We lay there, covered in spunk and plaster. I moved my hand to his veiny giant biceps and he flexed it to please me. It’s where my hand always instinctively traveled . . . or to his mammoth chest . . . or to his gigantic thighs. O hell, my hands traveled happily to any part of his huge body. “I love you, Connor,” he said, softly, letting his bushy gray mustache tickle my face. “I love you, Bud,” I replied. “You make the sun rise for me. Figuratively . . . for now.” “What can I give you today that will make you happy?” Bud asked. “You just did,” I answered and we both knew it was true. “Yes . . . I’m glad about that,” he said, “But what can I do to remind you how much I love you. Name it and it’s done.” I folded my arms across his massive chest and rested my chin on them. We smelled like a bathhouse and it was glorious. The sound of his cum carving out chunks in the ceiling still seemed to be reverberating in the room. I gazed into his eyes. I saw the kind of love that must have inspired millions of poems over the ages. I saw a mature muscle daddy that only wanted to please me. I lay on a body that was so huge and powerful it could do anything I wished. That seemed to be his sole purpose on earth. He needed me to answer him. He wanted me to give my elder Hercules some kind of labor to prove his loyalty and love. He simply knew that making me happy would fulfill him completely. I knew how to make him happy. “I’d like to go to a junkyard and watch you play, Bud Stevens,” I said and his face broke into a gorgeous smile that made me scoot up and kiss him. I finally pulled back and said something that was icing on the cake, “Watching you being able to finally let go – completely – and use all of the power within you would make me so very happy. And I’ll invite some friends.” The big man’s cock shot fully hard again. It was so powerful that it actually caused my lower body to rise slightly in the air. So many parts of what I had said pleased him. He loved the idea of going some place where he didn’t have to hold back. He had desperately wanted his ejaculation to put in holes for skylights for seven floors of apartments in our building. But, as usual, he had to tame it down and not use his full power. He couldn’t show off completely. He rarely got to show off completely, because there were things that shouldn’t be broken or people that shouldn’t be hurt. The entire night at the bar had been him showing a little power here or a little power there, but because we were in a public place he couldn’t go full on with his strength. The thought of a junkyard, where everything was fair game was almost too much for the man. I was kind of surprised we’d never gone before. Secondly, the idea of meeting some of my friends and showing off for them made the huge guy extremely excited. He hadn’t met any of my friends, yet, and this felt like a big step in our already cemented relationship. He instinctively knew he could impress anyone, but getting to show off for people that called me friend made him feel like a kid in a candy store. He would be on especially good behavior and do feats of strength that would blow their minds. Lastly, there was the ‘always important’ fact that he would be making me happy. Since it had been my idea to go, that made it even more special. Showing off for me in front of my friends would get both of us off that much more intensely. My body felt like it was levitating since his monstrous cock lifted it so easily. “What if your friends don’t like me?” Bud asked. “Why wouldn’t they like you? You can lift a fire truck!” I shot back. “But what if they think I’m too old for you?” he egged me on even more. “All those young guys in the bar last night didn’t seem to mind their cocks getting hard all because of a massive elder muscle daddy, did they?” I asked. “No, they didn’t,” he chuckled. I inched forward a little so his hard cock sprang up between my legs – resting against my ass crack and shooting up even higher than my bubble butt. I squeezed hard with my thighs and this made him moan a little. It felt like I had a fire hydrant between my legs. “I’m already thinking of a bunch of things you can do at the junkyard to make me happily ejaculate,” I said, kissing him again. “Just name it, Connor. Making you happy is my middle name,” Bud replied.
  12. Uncle Jed had hugged me a little longer than I expected when he arrived at our house for the Christmas holidays. I had returned to my parents home, as well, knowing full well my mom’s bull of a brother would be sharing a room with me for the week. I hadn’t really thought about it much – that is, until the hug. He had clasped his humongous arms – looking monstrous even through the flannel shirt he had on – around my body, squeezed tightly, and lifted me slightly off the floor. At the same time he whispered, “How’s my favorite little man.” This had been an affectionate nickname he had given to me when I was a kid, but now when he said it, I got a flurry of goosebumps and tongue tied-ness that I couldn’t explain. I also didn’t know why I was so disappointed when my feet were returned to the floor. Uncle Jed lived in Los Angeles, while I was in New York. We rarely saw each other, but I’d get random messages all the time from him telling me he was in my great city, but there would be no time for him to see me – his schedule was just too jam packed. At age fifty-six, my uncle was still working as a highly contract bouncer, bodyguard, and other jobs that needed an intimidating force. This was the man that had always brought me chocolates, told me fantastical bedtime stories, and threw me around in the pool every summer – there was no way I could find him intimidating, but this particular trip brought different emotions. He confidently straddled the chair beside me when we sat down for dinner, literally giving my cousin Mark a frightening stare because he had moved in that direction, too. Jed put his hand on top of mine and said, again, how great it was to see me. I instantly noticed how his hand engulfed mine completely. You could see nothing of my small demure thing under his giant manly paw. Again, he squeezed my hand for far too long and way too hard. My face scrunched up in pain, but my crotch did a happy dance. What was wrong with me? This was my uncle – who lost his wife of twenty-two years when I had turned eighteen. I still found it odd I never met Aunt Eleanor. I found it even more odd that we were never informed about a funeral. Suddenly, a big muscled thigh pressed firmly against mine and I turned to find Uncle Jed conversing with my cousin on his other side. His leg continued to push – causing my chair and me to slide a little. Finally, the big man turned to me and smiled. He leaned in closer and said softly, “You know I’m not your real uncle, don’t you?” And just like that, he turned back to my cousin on the other side and started up a new conversation. I was so caught off guard – so confused – I woofed down my food, excused myself, and went to the bathroom for a few minutes to calm what was raging beneath my belt. Later, it was just my mom and I putting away some dishes in the dining room cabinet. I asked her about what Jed had said and she told me that it was true. Jed’s parents had both died when he was in college. My grandparents had kind of unofficially adopted him since he was an only child. When I asked her why I had never been told this important information she simply said family’s start to believe things as real the more the years piled up. I asked if there was anything else I should know about Uncle Jed and she immediately got an apologetic look on her face. “As a matter of fact there is. Now, don’t be mad, honey. Uncle Jed didn’t have a wife. That’s just something we told you kids because Jed didn’t want all of you being confused. He had a partner named Lenny – who we just kind of changed into Eleanor to make it easier for us to talk about her . . . I mean him. I know, I know – we should have told you all, but it just didn’t seem to matter. Your father and I did go to Lenny’s funeral, by the way. We never told you that. Oh the secrets family keep. It’s a shame, don’t you think?” My mom’s question was lost on me. It would be a few more weeks before I would look back at that moment and realize she was offering me a ‘get out of jail free’ card. She was hoping I’d come out with my big secret. I was still working it out for myself, so I certainly wasn’t ready for all of her progressive ‘mother of the year’ enthusiastic support. I didn’t hear her because my mind was reeling from the fact that Uncle Jed – the guy built like a bulldozer – was gay. It was almost too much for a twenty-four closeted muscle daddy loving young man to handle. I avoided the daddy ‘elephant in the room’ for the rest of the evening – throughout the singing of carols and the opening of Christmas gifts. I slid off to the two room mini apartment my parents had made above the garage – hoping to be in bed and asleep before monstrous Jed came in. I had not, however, anticipated that he would already be there – standing in the folding doorway between our rooms in only his underwear. I gasped audibly when I saw his unclothed body. Nothing could have prepared me for the magnificence that was the man. Bloated veiny clearly hard arms bulged at his side. Pecs the size of mattresses popped out in mammoth 3-D. Gloriously strong looking giant hands hung by his side – further out than regular men because of Jed’s muscled lats. His shoulders filled the doublewide doorway, so that just made me light headed and then his gorgeous beefy thighs just screamed to have my little body pinned between them. We stood there in silence for a few minutes – my heavy quick breathing the only noise in the room. It was like he was giving me time to take everything in. A year wouldn’t have been long enough for me to explore every muscle on the huge man. Finally, he broke the silence. “I was in New York last month – just for a quick overnight trip – and I saw you at Papa’s Bar. You didn’t see me. I was on my way in and I caught sight of you with some friends through the window. I figured it wouldn’t be a good place to finally come clean about so many lies your family and I had told you. I . . . also . . . um, wow this is really hard to say. I also . . . realized how much I wanted you – you’ve grown into such a handsome young man. I hadn’t even gotten a gay vibe from you – ever. I was just so excited to see you so comfortable in that bar – flirting with older men. I watched you for about an hour.” “Then you must know what I like,” I said, surprisingly with confidence that thrilled both of us. Jed walked closer to me. God, I had forgotten how much I loved big men in briefs. His tidy whitey’s looked spectacular hugging his muscled body. Massive pecs were inches from my chin. I could smell the aroma of perspiration that comes from being nervous – from being hopeful. That’s when I realized that Jed was as caught off guard by all of this as I was. It was just that his size and his obvious power helped him to hide his apprehension a lot more than I could. He reached up, cupped the back of my head, and pulled it slowly – excruciatingly slow – toward his mammoth chest. My lips were read, as was my tongue. As soon as my lips smacked up against his hard pec muscle the man exhaled deeply, letting an animalistic growl escape. I didn’t wait for any other words or sounds to give me permission to do the millions of things that were racing through my head. I simply let the muscle daddy-loving beast within me take over. I had never wanted to satisfy another human being as much as I did Jed. My mouth moved quickly to his hard nipple and when I scraped it between my teeth his back arched and the grip around my head tightened. At the same time my hand shot out to the enormous mound of muscle bulging between his shoulder and forearm. My hand met something so hard I could have easily believed it was stone. My fingers foolishly tried to grab the peak of his gun as he raised it high to flex, but my hand was just too small. The behemoth formerly known as Uncle Jed shoved his crotch against mine and even through my blue jeans I could feel his manly tool hardening with every thrust. The hand on the back of my hand made it’s way down my back, groping and caressing me hard as it traveled. When it slid behind the waistband it paused briefly, as if the big man needed to prepare for the prize it was about to behold. Jed’s cock convulsed wildly in anticipation. Finally, his veiny muscled gigantic hand clamped around my bulbous ass and the muscle daddy lost control. A jet crashing into our garage could not have made more noise than Jed’s orgasmic howl as he unleashed what had clearly been building for a long time. My own cock showed its submissiveness and immediately released a heavy stream of cum in response to dominant alpha dick pounding it as the man shot his load. Huge arms immediately tightened around me so strongly that I was worried my back would be broken. For the second time that night, Jed lifted my body off the floor and we shook simultaneously as if there were a major earthquake. It seemed like it took him hours longer to finally stop spewing. I already felt gobs of his warm sticky milk seeping through my jeans. It felt like his body had produced gallons, while mine was stupendous with a few quarts. Even when our breathing began to become normal, the big man did not release his bear hug. He continued to hold m in the air – our crotches slowly becoming stuck together and my upper body smashed against his gloriously humongous chest. This time, I broke the silence. “I think my family now knows we’ve consummated our relationship. I actually think the entire town knows.” When he chuckled at my comment my small body bounced in his grasp. His laughing echoed within his cavernous chest as if it were miles wide. He brought his lips to the top of my head and kissed me. “I could hold you forever,” he said, softly. “I don’t think there’s anything or anyone that could stop you,” I replied. This comment made his chest swell even more and his hug tightened teasingly. I was able to lift my head slightly so I could see his face. He smiled down at me and we knew there was no need for words. This was the beginning of something very important. The future was already mapped out for us. He simply confirmed that by making one comment. “I move to New York in the new year.”
  13. (Forgive me, I decided to give myself a Christmas present and continue with one of my favorite characters. Merry Christmas, everyone). “Excuse me sir,” Harry said, making us turn to him. “I’ve got some empty kegs in the back that might help you give another fun show for the fellas and me.” “Hot damn, Harry! Empty kegs sounds like a lot of fun. I’d love to crush some of those for you.” Bud said with childlike enthusiasm. “Connor, I believe we have a perfect example of a guy with a big strength fetish – don’t we, Harry?” “Yes sir,” the bartender responded. “Well I’m just the man to make those fantasies come true, Harry,” Bud said. “You already have,” Harry answered. “Did you ever dream of being super strong, Harry?” Bud asked. “All the time, sir. All the time,” Harry answered and you could tell it was the most honest answer he’d ever given. “Well, let’s make that fantasy come partially true, Harry. Where are those empty kegs?” Bud asked. “Right back here,” Harry said, pointing to a room off to the left of the bar. Bud went to the room and came back a few seconds later carrying ten drained kegs – five held by each hand. He carried them easily with fingers in the handles and set them on the bar. Of course, the group of onlookers had already gathered to see what Bud would do next. In an attempt to build the momentum of the show, Bud quickly juggled three kegs for about a minute. When he finished he took one of the kegs and turned toward the bartender. “When you do feats of strength, Harry – whether it’s squeezing a man’s hand or demolishing something, you always start out by making it seem like you won’t be able to do whatever you’re attempting,” Bud explained. “You want to surprise the object or the man you’re working with. Let the guy think he’s going to grip you harder and then slowly squeeze until his eyes pop out because he realizes you’re just starting to exert pressure, while he’s been using his full force for a while. In the same way, we’re going to let the keg think it can withstand your power – and, in turn, the intended audience is slightly disappointed. It’s not until the screeching sound of metal booms loudly that everyone figures out you’ve been leading them on. Come stand in front of me, man. We’re going to take on this keg together, so you know what it feels like to be super strong.” Harry didn’t hesitate for a second. He moved in front of the big man, snuggling between the mammoth arms. At first Harry couldn’t force himself to turn around. He stood there with his nose pointed perfectly between the huge thick bottoms of Bud’s pecs. The younger stud merely stared at the hard muscle – totally in awe. Bud finally turned him around by placing a big hand on his head and twisting. He then nestled his hard body against Harry’s back – to give the kid an extra thrill. The smaller bartender let out a gasp when he felt the elder man’s huge hard-than-concrete boner pressing against his ass and back. “Guess I should have warned you about that hard muscle down there, huh, Harry?” Bud said, laughing. “It’s as big as the rest of me. And just as strong. Now get snug up against this big man, son. We’re going to have some fun with this keg. Put your hands on top of mine, we’re going to let you be the driver of this power machine.” It took a few seconds for the bartender to regain his composure after feeling Bud’s hardened mega-shaft. Harry was beginning to realize that Bud Stevens had as many surprises as he did muscles. It was also obvious to me that the younger guy was smitten with my boyfriend – in the same way a puppy loves his owner. Harry easily gave up control of his tightly muscled body to the much larger super-gramps. I understood the way he felt and pitied him, a little, since I knew Bud was dedicated solely to me. However, I also knew the big man would make Harry’s night – not to mention Harry’s life – by pleasing him big time. As soon as the bartender rested his hands on top of Bud’s huge paws he nestled his ass even more secure against Bud’s balls and huge rod – taking advantage of the situation as much as he could. “So, little Harry,” Bud said, loving calling the muscular man ‘little.’ “You’re going to control the action. When I feel you pressing in I’ll add a little strength to the situation and you’ll get to feel what it’s like to have super strength. This keg doesn’t even begin to know the damage you’re going to inflict on it.” Harry didn’t need any other encouragement. Immediately his face twisted up from effort and he started pressing against the back of Bud’s hands, which were resting on the ends of the empty keg. Bud was able to see their reflection in the mirror above the bar. His own hands didn’t budge at all – clearly able to withstand the pressure from the bartender’s grip without any problem. “No, no, no, man – another rule for guys with super strength. We don’t scrunch our face up when we do something,” Bud explained. “We keep our face relaxed – as if to say what we’re doing doesn’t take any effort, at all. This way, we shock onlookers even more. A calm muscleman doing feats of strength without being tensed is like watching a bird effortlessly fly through the air or a cheetah running at super speeds across the grasslands. You got to make it look easy. Yes, you pause at first – to make people think you can’t do the action – but then you reveal your power with a calm body. It makes the feat you’re doing look even more impressive. So, relax your face, Harry, and let those big muscles of yours show people what you can do. Well, with a little help from this huge old man.” Harry was a quick learner. He un-tensed his body, shook out his arms a little, and then replaced his hands on Bud’s giant hands. He then smiled and began to squeeze. Bud could tell the smaller guy was applying some pressure, but it didn’t really register to his powerful hands. However, my big boyfriend knew just how to please the younger man. He began to compress his hands, too. At first, nothing happened, then there was a loud screech and the keg folded in on itself slightly. Everyone knew the thing could be compresses with a flick of the huge man’s wrists, but watching it be destroyed slowly was what everyone wanted. They also wanted to pretend it was Harry doing the crushing. “Oh yeah, big Harry, look what you did,” Bud said enthusiastically. “That poor keg had no choice but to give into your super strength. You’re going to demolish the thing like it was a paper cup. Look at your bulging arms, dude. Such power in those guns. Go ahead, crush the thing some more.” Harry smiled a little more and pressed his hands in strongly, causing his pecs to pump out even harder. There wasn’t a sign of strain on either man’s face – both enjoying the show as much as the gathered audience. Bud pushed his hands in slowly – allowing the bartender to set the pace. The keg immediately screamed from the super pressure of the older man’s strength. Everyone in the room knew that Bud was compressing the keg, but it was fun as hell to imagine that it was Harry. Harry easily suspended disbelief and accepted that he, himself, was crushing the pathetic metal object in his hands. For years the bartender had lifted kegs – both full and empty ones – dreaming of what it would be like to mangle one like it was paper, crumpling it in his hands and discarding it casually. Now, here he was squeezing the big thing in on itself and listening to the metal screech loudly as he made it succumb to his power. By this point Harry was rock hard – actually harder than he had ever been in his entire life. He stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and only saw his big arms demolishing the keg. He was so turned on by his pretend strength that he was almost able to ignore the giant behind him – the enormous grampa what was actually easily performing the feat of strength. “Aw hell, Harry, listen to solid steel screaming because of your power,” Bud said to egg on the younger man. “It’s begging you to stop. It can’t believe a guy could crush it like it was nothing. Damn dude, look how it buckles to your strength. And look how huge you are getting! Squeeze it into nothing but a piece of junk, man. Make it know that you’re the boss and it’s nothing compared to those bulging arms of yours. Finish it off, Harry. Flatten then thing into the size of a pancake.” Bud’s words made the young bartender’s fantasy complete. Harry was beginning to even more feel like he was, indeed, crushing the keg. It was so empowering to be surrounded by so much muscle – there was no way to not be aware of the hardness that encompassed him and pressed from behind – and to be encouraged in the dream of destroying something powerful with your bare hands. Harry felt like a superhero. He enjoyed the idea that crushing a keg was nothing more than crumpling a tissue for him. The constant screeching of the metal as it was manipulated into a thin piece of junk was intoxicating. Harry got a small glimpse of what it was like to be Bud Stevens – to not doubt your abilities at all, to internally know you had absolutely no limits. The bartender pressed in harder, cluing the senior muscleman into his desire to go faster and compress harder. Bud obliged and the keg was quickly destroyed, turned into a smashed thin slab of metal. It looked like a heavy serving tray. A loud clanking sound came at the end – as Harry and Bud smashed the keg into something unrecognizable. “Aw, little man, you turned that big keg into a piece of paper made of metal,” Bud exclaimed proudly. “But you’re not done, Harry. Let’s crumple that thing like it was only paper. Let’s turn the thing into a wad of steel the size of a tennis ball.” Harry kept his hands pressed against Bud’s big paws as they reached around the thin sheet of metal that used to be the keg and started crushing it inward like it was a used napkin getting readied for the trashcan. Soon, the two men had the once large keg squeezed into something that looked like a metal blob – fingerprints imbedded all around it. Bud held the thing in his open palm – waiting for the younger man to take it. Harry removed his hands from the back of Bud’s and reached to grab the now terribly deformed keg in one hand – completely forgetting how heavy the thing would be. He couldn’t lift it from Bud’s palm with one hand. He had to bring his other one to the small ball of compressed metal and lift with both. The thing was still pretty warm from its structure being reformed into something unrecognizable. Harry was confounded by the fact that something so small could weigh so much. “Look at you, super strong Harry,” Bud said. “Demolishing that thing as if it was nothing for you. Big little-man crushing a giant keg into a little ball. How’s it feel to be so powerful, man?” “Fucking incredible, sir!” Harry responded. The young bartender was still not moving from his warm nestled space up against Bud’s giant body. The heat from the senior muscleman was like some kind of drug – addictive and oh-so-comforting. Harry continued to hold the warm blob in his hands and marveled at its weight even more. “Man, look how it made your biceps pop out, Harry,” Bud said, egging the smaller man on even more. “Let’s see those guns, dude. Get over to the bar and flex one of them beside Connor’s arm. Hey Connor, come compare.” Harry reluctantly tore his body away from Bud’s – but the thought of showing off his big arms was exciting – especially since they were pumped up pretty big. I also got excited about comparing my small arm to the bartender’s swole gun. Comparisons between big guys and small guys had always been a big turn on for me. Harry leaned forward, placed his elbow on the bar and flexed hard. I was impressed with how big the bulge was. The dude had some killer arms – probably about nineteen inches. I placed my little man arm beside his and flexed. I was in no way a slouch. I had a pretty good body and worked out regularly, but I wasn’t interested in being huge. I liked being with huge men. My biceps looked pathetic beside the mound of muscle that popped out beside me. My boyfriend had the biggest muscles around, but it was still nice looking at Harry’s well-formed gun. “Look how small you make my boyfriend’s arm look, Harry,” Bud said, knowing full well this kind of talk turned me on – a lot. “My boy loves it when big men compare their muscles to little guys – especially if he’s the little guy. I have no idea why he loves big muscles so much. Maybe it has something to do with his boyfriend.” “I’d say that’s right,” Harry responded. “That’s a very respectable arm, Harry,” Bud said. “What are you sporting there? Twenty inches? Twenty-one?” “Um . . . no, it’s only nineteen, sir,” Harry answered; clearly afraid he was disappointing the huge older man. “Dude, that’s fantastic,” Bud said, encouraging the smaller man. “You’ll hit twenty with no problem.” “I hope so, sir,” Harry said, flexing his gun beside my even harder – as if he thought he could will it to grow. “Ready to see some real meat, fellas?” Bud asked. “Yes sir!” Harry and I responded together, both of us keeping our arms flexed on the bar. “Harry, my man,” Bud said, “let’s show you what forty-two inch guns look like.” The bartender moaned out loud as soon as he heard the elder man say the size of his biceps. It was still hard for me to fathom their size and I was around them all the time. The minute old man Stevens flexed his arm on the bar beside ours the entire room went dead silent. We had all seen his uncovered body all night long – and I’d seen if for a lot longer – but there was just something about seeing the insanely humongous thing beside our own arms that took everyone’s breath away. The man had become a muscle monster – something that online morphers couldn’t even have imagined. His arm was super gigantic and shredded at the same time. Two incredible peaks blasted upward – way beyond comprehension – and dwarfed even Harry’s big guns in a way that made the grown man’s limb look like that of a tiny baby. Bud had been perfectly right when he said I loved big man-little man comparisons. Seeing large bulging muscles beside smaller ones made me think of power, strength, and sexy cockiness, but nothing could have prepared me for every time I saw Bud Stevens’ muscles next to some other grown man – especially a man that was considered big in all other situations. Bud’s mammoth mound of muscle ballooned out like a giant living boulder in motion. Harry’s arm screamed of gym strength, while my elder lover’s arm screamed of superhero power beyond reason – the kind of power that could literally move mountains. “Look, Harry, your arm looks like a matchbox car beside my semi-truck gun,” Bud teased. “It looks like a tiny dwarf planet up next to the sun. It looks like a teeny-weeny mouse next to an enormous elephant…” “We get the point, Bud,” I said, laughing. “Yeah, but the two of you also get off on me pointing out the obvious, too,” Bud replied, knowing full well that Harry and I were mesmerized by the unbelievable comparison shot in front of us. “Just can’t help it, dudes, I’m huge. I have to turn sideways to get in doublewide doors and duck even in archways. Somebody done morphed me something massive!” “Um . . . fellas, I gotta get off. I’m in need of some relief,” Harry said, loudly – his voice catching us off guard. “Whoa there, little man,” Bud said, after we both turned to look at the bartender. “You’re face is turning purple. You do need to blast a big one, don’t you?” “Yes sir,” Harry answered. “Got any fun ideas on how you’d like to lose your load,” Bud asked. “I’d like you to flex, sir, and then I’ll do the rest,” Harry responded quickly – making it obvious he had been thinking about this for a while. “Sure thing, little Harry,” Bud said and then he stood up and threw his arms into that now very familiar double biceps pose. The Alps weren’t nearly as majestic as Bud Stevens’ arms. The monstrous things were a shock to behold every time he flexed. It was never something I’d take for granted. I was sure of that. It was partly because the arms were so humongous that it was mind boggling, but it was also because they belonged to a man that was so nice, so confident, so mature, and so damn naturally cocky. Bud didn’t come across as arrogant – he just exuded so much sure-ness, so much power that he appeared just naturally aware that the world was his plaything. Bud didn’t want to be big to be mean – he wanted to be big to show off. His brain worked on overload to try and figure out new things to make me . . . and other guys . . . happy. I was falling madly in love with this senior muscleman and I knew he felt the same way about me. I was now confident beyond my wildest dreams merely because I had this behemoth of a senior man adoring me all the time. I knew I could ask him to do anything and he’d do it for me. I’d never take advantage of that, but I did dream about having him destroy big things or mangle them just because I asked him to. I now knew how Lois Lane felt. Harry moving up to my giant boyfriend brought me back to the present moment. When Harry, a genuinely big man, stood in front of Bud he seemed like a child. The big bartender just didn’t come close to matching the size, the thickness, the height, or the muscled massiveness of the man he faced. I could tell that Harry was astounded to be dwarfed so much by another human being. It was just something he wasn’t used to. He tried to look up into Bud’s face, but my elder lover had inhaled as he flexed his arms and his massive freight container sized chest ballooned out in a way that intimidated and thrilled at the same time. Bud decided to have some fun with that fact. “Hey, where did little Harry go? He was here just a minute ago. Was I just too much for him to handle? I thought he wanted to have some fun,” Bud said with mock surprise. He glanced at me with a quizzical face and I pointed down below his inflated blimp-sized pecs. Bud leaned forward, so his face could see over his own mammoth chest. He put on a show for the bartender – starting with a startled look. “Oh, there you are, Harry!” he said, teasingly. “I didn’t see you. Something huge was in the way. It’s a good thing I didn’t move forward and trample you. So, you had a special way you wanted to bust out a big deserving load?” Harry took a step back, so he could take in all of the hugeness in front of him. He shook his head for the hundredth time, clearly, still in disbelief of the elder behemoth he beheld. The bartender was still trying to figure out how it was possible for a senior citizen to be the size of a house, have the strength of ten superheroes put together, and love to show off as if he were an entire tent of circus performers thrilling all the children in the world. For that is what Harry felt like next to Bud Stevens – a child. It wasn’t off-putting or negative in any way. As a matter of fact it was freeing. Harry found that he could let go and be exactly who he was when he was around Bud. He didn’t need to impress . . . well, he actually couldn’t impress anyone as long as Bud Stevens was nearby. He just got to be the adoring puppy with his master and that felt so comfortable. “Just keep your arms flexed, sir, and I’ll do the rest,” the bartender said. “I can keep these stupendous guns flexed as long as you want, little man,” Bud replied. “You just go ahead and do whatever you want.” Harry needed no more encouragement than that. He bent his legs, extended his arms, and jumped. I clearly saw what he intended to do even before my giant boyfriend did. Harry let his bent fingers rest on the top of Bud’s wide-as-a-table biceps. Even Harry’s big hands weren’t able to cup the massive peaks of Bud’s arms. My own hands looked like toothpicks when pressed against Bud’s mammoth guns, but Harry’s didn’t look much bigger. After adjusting his body, so his frame was smack-dab even with Bud’s, Harry started to pull his full weight up, slowly and deliberately. The bartender was doing pull-ups on Bud’s arms, but he was also making sure his body pressed against the stone-like body of the giant as he went up and down. Harry intended to get his rocks off by thrusting his cock and his entire body up and down Bud’s bulging muscles. Bud let out a loud warrior-like yell when he realized what the little bartender intended to do. My senior muscle boyfriend also tensed his chest, abs, and thighs to give his little friend something even harder to masturbate against. I had pressed my dick against my bed so many times to get off during my lifetime, that I quickly understood having hard, warm, flesh against your cock – even when it was covered in clothing – would probably induce orgasm in just a few scrapes against all Bud’s bulges. “Five . . . six,” Bud had started counting the times Harry went up and down. “Seven, I bet you can’t make it to twenty, Harry . . . eight . . . not because you aren’t strong enough, but because I don’t think your raging hard-on can last that long. Nine. Certainly not up against all this thick hardness. Ten.” Harry’s already purple face was now even a darker color. I knew it wasn’t the strain of the pull-ups – certainly a man in Harry’s gorgeous shape – could crank out a hundred chin-ups with no problem. No, his struggle was from the knowledge that the unmoving massive structure he was exercising on was human. Well, he actually wondered if a man the size and hardness of Bud Stevens could be human. There was certainly blood pumping through the vein-covered bulges of the giant man, but Harry wondered if it were some kind of super-serum instead. Some kind of blood that had been enhanced into something immortal or god-like. Harry had no idea how close he was. It was pretty clear that if Harry could have held out for a little longer the front of his cargo shorts would have been easily worn through. Bud’s body was that hard and unforgiving. Harry’s own monster cock was equally as hard. On lift number seventeen, when Harry was at the peak of his upward motion, he let out a deep piercing pleasure scream that surely could be heard for miles around. The word gushed didn’t come close to describing the fire hydrant powered release that exploded from the rod in his shorts. Harry held his body at the peak of his lift. The force of his explosion made his lower body pummel away from Bud’s abs and then come slamming back into their ribbed hardness, which, in turn, intensified the man’s release. “Stand back, boys, he’s an untapped oil well,” Bud boomed into the room. I didn’t know it was possible for a man to go as purple as Harry went during his ejaculation. I knew his cock was going to ache for weeks to come. He was having a Bud Stevens almost-coma induced spurt and I, personally, knew how intense they could be. I swear Harry’s body grew from its orgasmic workout. I bet he added a few inches of muscle all over – that’s how powerful his explosion was. Bud reached up and grabbed the smaller man at the waist – not wanting him to fall when he finally stopped spurting. I began to worry that the bartender was going to have a heart attack right there on the spot. My big boyfriend tended to have that kind of effect on people. Finally, after what seemed like an hour or so, Harry’s body went limp and he stopped shooting. I thought he might be unconscious, but suddenly his arms dropped and his face went to Bud’s chest. The bartender’s mouth opened and nestled down on Bud’s doorknob sized nipple and he looked like a baby happy to get his bottle. Bud moved the guy to that side and held him in place with one huge arm. He then motioned to me. “Come on over here, Connor. There’s another big man nipple for you to suck on. Come join Harry for a little dessert. You both deserve it,” Bud said, making sure I was included in all the fun – he was such a thoughtful man. I took a few steps and then leapt into the air – the big man’s arm catching me as if I were nothing more than a bunch of cotton balls. I had my mouth on his sweet nip in mere seconds – sucking as if my life depended on it. My huge lover chuckled and squeezed me tightly. He knew the feeling of his huge arm surrounding me was like having a comforter, a wood burning stove, and the heat of an entire football team’s bodies surrounding me at the same time. The energy of Bud’s body, if harnessed, could have probably powered the continent for many years. I glanced over at Harry and was surprised to see his eyes were open. He was looking at me with a face so full of gratitude he didn’t need to say a word. I could tell he was saying thank you for sharing my huge boyfriend with him. He didn’t realize that there was no way I could say no to Bud Stevens – mainly because I could never satisfy him on my own completely, but also because letting the man grant wishes and live out fantasies for other little guys was what the big man had been made for. There was no way I could keep the muscled senior citizen to myself. He might be my boyfriend, but someone so magnificent, so huge, and so incredibly powerful could not be hidden or selfishly kept for myself. He was a gift to the world and he had to be shared. Besides, Bud believed himself to be the incarnation of a morphed muscled Santa Claus – here, on earth, to bring good will to all men.
  14. londonboy

    The Toy

    I loved watching his mouth open wide in shock. He couldn’t speak – hell, he probably couldn’t even think straight. He obviously wasn’t used to being manhandled so easily. I could feel his little heart beating a thousand times harder than it normally did. I didn’t need to look down; I knew his cock was rock hard. There was no way he couldn’t be turned on. I held his small body two feet off the floor. I had simply slid my hands into his pits and lifted – no knee bending, no waist bending – I merely lifted his entire body off the ground with my mouth-watering giant guns. Man, it was amazing how light some fellas could be. His weight barely registered to me. I would have guessed one fifty or one sixty – nothing higher. That was one arm curling weight for me. He also couldn’t believe a sixty-one year old man could be so big and so strong. In his mind, I was getting close to the age where I might be put out to pasture. Gazing at my body in bits and pieces he would have said the arms were of a twenty-year old. The chest, he would have guessed, belonged to some guy who was twenty-five or younger, but then the dusting of salt and pepper fur made him think differently. It’s when he looked into my face – the crow’s feet at the corner of my eyes, the slight wrinkles around my mouth, and the stunning silver blue hair that was my crowning glory – that’s when his little mind couldn’t compute the facts. It wasn’t time for me to sit in a rocker or keep a walker beside my bed – as he so quickly stereotyped older men. The kid was only twenty-one and it was his first time in the bar called ‘Silver’ – a place frequented by men similar to me. We were big older men looking for toys. And by toys, I didn’t mean dildos or slings. I meant younger little men we could play with like a kid with her or his dolls. We didn’t take men against their will; that was definitely not our style. We came to ‘Silver’ because it was like going into an electronics store on Black Friday – tons of toys came to the bar in hopes of being chosen by one of the elder giants. I came here every Saturday night. I’d down about ten beers, get a little buzzed, and then pick some saliva-dripping young thing from the crowd to take home and rock his world. I had a certain look that pleased me – the innocent little preppy kid. There was something about a trust-fund looking young man in khakis and a button-down that made me want to flex and dominate all night long. My dream toy was a rich little brat that couldn’t earn his dad’s love because he was gay and I’d come along, literally sweeping him off his feet, and take him home to offer him the kind of love he so desperately sought. Blessing some young pup with the attention and the affection he eagerly needed made me feel like some kind of muscled Robin Hood spreading joy throughout the village. The universe blessed me with the ability to pump my huge frame into something bulging and monstrous – so I kind of felt obligated to share that with others. At the same time, it got my juices boiling so hot that I felt like I could blast a boy-toy all the way to the ceiling – just from the power of my gusher. That made it a win-win situation in my opinion. The toy I presently held in the air was like a wish come true. He had on an adorable pink Polo button-down (PINK!), some butt-hugging Chino’s, and loafers with no socks. Loafers with no socks – it didn’t get any better than that! He had on a watch that cost more than a Hummer and used a money clip with his initials engraved in it. It was like the bar Gods had decided to bless me with the perfect plaything. What clinched it for me was when I asked him what he did for a living and he got confused. I finally had to ask what his job was and the heavens parted with angels singing when he told me he didn’t have to work. I asked if he had a rich daddy and he simply nodded his head. I swear – that one little nod made my cock shoot hard. I asked if his pops would have approved of him being at the ‘Silver’ and he made me ooze lots of pre when he said no. I was by far the biggest daddy at ‘Silver.’ Other men who frequented the place were muscled and large – but my bulges popped out much more than any other regular patron. It kind of made me like Zeus at Mount Olympus – all the other gods looked up to me and gave way to me when needed. This particular night I had decided to come directly from the gym. I knew my sweat-covered body – now partially dried – would give off pheromones that would permeate throughout the entire bar. I would make everyone in the place go a little stiff just by walking in. I had also learned a long time ago that my testosterone-laden aroma made smaller men actually become light headed whenever I drew near. I loved that my daddy-ness could make toys weak in the knees. When I had entered the bar this evening, I paused in the doorway just to let all the heads that turned my direction have time to soak up all the muscled goodness. I counted a total of seven gaping mouths – only those in close proximity – fellas unable to hide their lust-filled shock. Forget about gaydar – I possessed something better. I had little-preppy-man radar. I could hone in on a cream-filled, Lacoste-loving, prep-school beauty quicker than most men could blink. It was like I had a sixth sense of which man in the room would love my senior-aged giant muscled body the most and who would please my particular toy fetish completely. I didn’t even scan the room once. I immediately picked up on the pup’s Polo-cologne infused scent even though the bar was completely packed. His smallness made me growl out loud – causing a group of toys standing by to actually quiver a little in fear. I quickly glanced at his petite hands – knowing that before the night was over I would beg him to interlock fingers and without even applying any pressure I would make him squeal in delighted pain. Oh fuck, he was gorgeous. A twenty-nine inch waist, about five feet five inches tall, perfect hair that was clearly cut every week, and size seven shoes – not even large enough for my big toe. And then there was the cherry on the top – a winter tan, obviously from a rich-boy trip to somewhere exotic. To make things even sweeter – the poor little dude was clearly nervous as a rabbit that stumbles into a den of foxes. There were three elder musclemen who had cornered him against one end of the bar – each with a ravenous look in their eyes. They smelled fresh meat and were surely plying the toy with beer in hopes he would soon choose a victor. I looked down at my ‘Daddy’s Got Muscle’ skin-hugging tank top, rolled my beefy hard pecs a couple times, and then headed over to claim my prize. Moses, with his measly parting of the sea, had nothing on me. As soon as I was about ten feet from the party happening at the end of the bar, the other three men either felt my presence or were overpowered by my pheromones before I even stood among them and they quickly moved away. One of them was clearly in mid-sentence, but it didn’t matter. They all knew the alpha was drawing near. The bartender had a beer waiting for me near the small pup as soon as I arrived – he instinctively knew where I was going to park my huge frame. I swear I could feel my balls gurgling with hot cum when I stood in front of the small prepster. He was so short his lips were even with my plug-sized nips. I made sure to stand close enough so he had to lean his head way back to look up at me. As it was, he could barely see over my protruding pec shelf. I reached out beside the dude, to grab my beer, and he actually flinched in fear. Oh fuck, he was already intimidated and I hadn’t done a damn thing. I had pity on the small thing and stepped back a little – just so he didn’t get a neck cramp. I flexed my gun purposefully as I took a giant swig of my beer – the dude’s eyes widening when he noticed that half the liquid in the bottle disappeared. I quickly calculated all the things that were perfect about this youngster. Skinny as a rail – check, flat and hairless narrow chest – check, arms that looked like twigs next to mine – check, nymph-like face that clearly couldn’t grow a full beard to save his life – check, and eyes the size of dinner plates because he was so freaked out by what was standing in front of him – double check. If I hadn’t been such a strong elder muscleman I would have been spewing something fierce just from all of his tiny perfectness. I towered over the toy. He looked like a one level house next to a skyscraper. And then there was the size difference – with him looking like Bruce Banner and I easily resembled the morphed-into Hulk when he became angry. Again, I looked at his demure manicured hands – obviously, they had never seen a day of hard labor. I knew they would feel so small, weak, and fragile in my big calloused hands. That thought sent a shiver down my entire huge body. Why did tiny hands turn me on so much? And thin, weak-looking necks – they made me feel the same way. My huge paw would almost wrap completely around the bird-like stem between his head and body. My mind imagined lifting him into the air that way – a thought that, again, almost sent me over the edge. It was clear by the look on his face he was on sensory overload. I got the feeling he had never been this close to such a huge muscle daddy before. His body had never seen the inside of a gym – that was a given – but it seemed the little rich boy had also never had the opportunity to be around such bulging muscles for any other reason, as well. He was like a kid let loose in a candy shop. He didn’t know where to let his gaze stick for longer than a few seconds. It was painfully obvious that he wanted to take in all of my hugeness as quickly as possible. I looked down, again, and noticed his little hands were trembling. The beer bottle he held was shaking back and forth a little. Aw, the toy was overwhelmed by big old me. I tensed my chest – making the pecs swell so much it cut off part of his view of my face. His mouth dropped open wide and he stopped breathing. I quickly released the tense – afraid I might give him a heart attack. I reached up with one finger and pushed up on his chin – closing his mouth, which made him remember to breathe. Seeing how huge my forefinger was next to his chin thrilled me almost as much as touching his smooth soft skin. Years of lifting and reaching my sixties had made my skin hard and leather-like, something other men seemed to love, but I got more excited by soft, un-muscled skin that seemed so weak compared to mine. If I asked this little dude to flex his gun I had a feeling there wouldn’t have been even the slightest bump to his biceps. I’m sure his legs were like sticks – tiny enough to be crushed by one of my hands. I had to again pull myself back from the edge – all of these thoughts were turning me on so much I was soon going to explode. I took another swig of my beer and finished it – again, causing my audience of one little man to be stunned. Another bottle was already waiting for me on the bar and this time, the dude didn’t flinch when I reached past his head. His eyes were glued to my humongous arm as I raised it to take a drink. Again, I flexed my giant gun just to give him a thrill. He was actually in control of himself enough to take a sip of his own beer. I was instantly pleased by how his little Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he took what I would consider a tiny drip of his beverage. I could probably finish my ten beers before he even made it through one. Holy hell, everything about this little dude thrilled me beyond words. I finally decided it was time to speak and I asked him his name. I immediately oozed more pre-cum when he said, in what almost sounded like a pre-pubescent falsetto voice, that his name was Winston. A preppy name to go with the whole ensemble – that was just too much. I had a feeling he was a third or fourth, too – or, at least, a junior. He somehow managed to get enough courage to ask me my name and I kind of leaned down and told him to call me Big Poppa. His hands immediately trembled even more and I swear I saw his crotch twitch with excitement. My little one certainly had a daddy fetish and that made my night complete. I asked him his age and that’s when he told me he was twenty-one. That’s when I decided to shock him and told him I was exactly forty years older than him. As I said before, I knew this simple information would be almost too much for him to handle. I glanced down at his crotch and was rewarded with what I knew would be his response – a small wet stain from not being able to prevent pre-cum from spurting. It seemed we both had the same problem. I asked him if he thought his Big Poppa looked sixty-one and he couldn’t even answer. He was just too flabbergasted. I told him that when I was twenty-one I had been the arm-wrestling champ of my small town. I then told him I still held the title today. This made him take an impressively long gulp of his beer – but his hands were shaking even more. When he was done, I decided to play with him some more. I asked him if he liked older men and he, again, could only nod his head in response. I smiled – something that made him moan a little. I then asked him if he liked his men strong and this time he wasn’t even able to nod his head. His eyes got wider – an answer ‘yes’ if I had ever seen one and he was forced to take another sip of his drink. I was ready to take our new friendship to a new level. And that’s when I put my drink on the counter, reached down to grab him by the pits, and easily lifted him into the air. I could feel his feet kicking back and forth. Fuck, that turned me on. Even if he had wanted to escape, there would have been nothing he could have done to get away. I held the toy in my hands – a doll for my pleasure. I, again, marveled at how light the guy was. It was as if he had never even once come close to hitting his allocated calories for the day. I was pretty sure I weighed almost thee times as much as him. I had this sudden urge to hug him – to hug him really tight. I knew it would crush something if I did, but that didn’t make the urge go away. I simply knew better and didn’t do it. My thick fingers and thumbs seemed to stretch halfway across his chest and back. My little preppy boy seemed so fragile – like thin crystal or something even more delicate. His smallness, at the same time, made me feel enormous and much more powerful than I really was. Holding my toy in my hands – for I did now view him as MY toy – made me feel invincible, like a superhero. I had such a strong desire to take care of my toy – to protect him, take care of him, and do everything for him. God, the idea of him never needing a thing again – except those things I would give him - turned me on more than I could have ever imagined. There was something special about this toy. I couldn’t quite place it, but I had a strange feeling I would stick with this particular one for a long time – maybe even forever. I was overwhelmed by my sudden protective feelings for the little guy. I took a step forward and sat him on the bar. I moved my body in between his legs, grabbed my beer, and still I gazed down into his face – even though the height of the bar made him a lot closer to my level. This time, I took a really long gulp of my beer – emptying it quickly. Another one was sitting on the bar next to my toy before I even placed the old one down. Damn, it was good to know bartenders. The toy had brought his tiny looking hand up to my right biceps and he was feeling the mound as if he were handling some precious ancient artifact. I bent my wrist and tensed the arm – just to make it swell up even harder. His hand froze with his fingers pressed against my hard giant knob of muscle and he gasped out loud. I kept my arm tensed and he slowly started groping the biceps even more – like it was some kind of life force that gave him energy. I looked at how minuscule his hand looked next to my monstrous arm. His fingers turned me on so much – just because they looked so slight and weak. How did this guy not easily get broken or damaged? It seemed like a strong wind could have blown him away. All of these thoughts, however, only made me want him more. I wanted to be the beast to his beauty. I wanted my body to offer him tons of shade when the sun was beating down hot. I wanted to intimidate anyone stupid enough to bully or mistreat my little toy. I needed to be his muscle god and I needed it more than anything in the world. That’s when I did something I had never done with one of my toys before. I leaned in and kissed the man. Kisses were only saved for special people. I pressed my mouth against his and sucked in hard – hoping to inhale some of whatever it was about him that drove me crazy. His body seemed to deflate, so I exhaled quickly. I also ran my big hands up his back and pulled his body into mine – smashing his flimsy frame against all of my hardness. I could actually feel his hard cock poking into my tight-as-hell abs. To say the kiss excited me would have been the understatement of the year. I had never known emotions like this before. This little man, my new favorite toy, was slaying the big giant without doing a damn thing but be delicate. None of this made me feel weak or frail, though. On the contrary, I continued to feel more powerful than ever. I felt my hugeness in a new way. The giant wooden bar my toy sat on seemed small and fragile. Other big men standing near me suddenly seemed like Hobbits compared to me. Even my lovely toy seemed to shrink into something I could cuddle in my hands – like a kitten. Of course, all of this was only a feeling – but it was the most alive and the most energized I had ever felt in my entire life. It took all of my strength to pull my head back and separate our lips. I wanted to stay intimately connected to the little man, but I had a strange suspicion I would have quickly orgasmed. It was uncanny to feel so weak and, yet, so powerful at the same time. I looked down into the face of my precious toy and was enormously surprised to see him smiling. It was the first time he wasn’t shaking or looking scared. This made me happy. This made me feel even more powerful than I already did. Making this beautiful man smile seemed like the only thing in the world I was destined for. I smiled back – and it was the most genuine smile I had ever offered. I smiled because I felt happier than ever – ever in my entire life, and I had had a wonderful life so far. This adorable beloved little man made me feel like the luckiest man on the planet. I was lost in the black hole of complete adoration. I was now this little toy’s devoted protector. And that pleased me very much. His smile intrigued me – so I was brave and asked him what had brought such a lovely man into the bar on that particular Saturday night. I will never forget his answer. Winston looked deep into my eyes and said, “I had heard there was a beautiful monstrous older giant here who loved small men and I decided to come in and find out if I could win his heart.”
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