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Found 16 results

  1. Something new for all you gorgeous people to read! This one's shaping up to be pretty schmoopy, fyi. It was spawned by a couple of really different songs getting thrown together while doing Cardio. I'm linking them and a visual aid for anyone who likes to see the inspiration side of things before they start reading. Also, another thank you is owed to Dredlifter for helping me iron out some numbers. First Song - Falling Slowly https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQvwXbvs5GY Second Song - Confident https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwLRQn61oUY And the T-Shirt https://www.teeturtle.com/products/gym-unicorn?variant=1540111073289 Enjoy. FORTUNE FAVOURS... Cas watched TJ warily in the gym mirror. The asshole behemoth had been eyeing him and Karen since they arrived. He had his usual band of cronies working out with him but today there was a new face added to the mix. TJ kept leaning down, way down to speak in his ear like he was giving some sort of direction. New Guy finally looked over and made eye contact in the mirror. Cas shivered and immediately dropped his gaze to the floor – the guy was fucking perfect! He snuck a look back up in the mirror to see New Guy nodding slowly to TJ before he started to swagger across the gym. “Incoming, Karen....” She pushed her blue-black hair out of her eyes and glanced over her shoulder before pushing out a final rep on the leg press. “Well fuck. How did he even figure out what time we'd be here?” Normally TJ followed a pretty strict schedule. With a little unofficial help from the staff, Cas and Karen had been able to schedule their own workouts for times when he wouldn't be there at all. Today TJ had thrown them for a loop – they came in well after he would have normally departed but he was still here with his counsel of sycophants scurrying about his massive frame. Cas watched the twink's approach. Well, that probably wasn't fair – New Guy was pretty damn built, more like a twunk, maybe. Ash blonde hair was playfully mussed at the front, a tuft of it standing straight up. Grey eyes stared out below fuller brows that arched up to prevent him from having a permanent cro-magnan scowl. He was a little scruffy but Cas could still see the square definition of his jawline before it tapered to the chin. He had a slightly upturned nose that lent his symmetrical face the slightest hint of a feline quality. He was achingly handsome and Cas felt a tingle of desire twinge through his body. It was like TJ had gone out of his way to find someone who would be as attractive to Cas's tastes as possible. New Guy was almost to them. "Fuck, he's seriously built...." Definitely thicker than a twunk. It was his height that made him seem smaller than he was. Cas estimated himself to have about a six-inch advantage. Karen was on her feet now, also appraising his approach. “Shit, Cas. This one's very easy on the eyes. And damn he fills out that racer tank in the best way. If he hasn't absorbed too much of TJ's douchebagliness, maybe he can be saved? How much do you want to bet that he mentions your shirt?” Karen looked over at Cas and grinned mischievously. The sight was decidedly unnerving. There was something about a woman who looked like she could bench press Buick smiling wickedly that could rattle anyone. “But you told me you love this shirt?” Cas started defensively. “That shirt is fucking amazing. Doesn't mean he isn't going to mention it. Five bucks?” “It's a lousy bet and we both know it. How 'bout we just give you the win and I'll bring you cookies next time I make some?” "Done. Let me know if you need me?" And with that, she moved off to more leg work nearby, earphones off and listening. “I'm sure I'll be fi-” “Hey.” Damn, Cas had turned to keep talking to Karen and lost track of how close New Guy was. Of course his voice would be misleadingly deep for his size. It was a low, rich tenor, just a smidgen above a bass. Cas felt his balls draw up tight in response to the vibration. His bottom lip hinged open and he stared slack-jawed at the person before him. Karen was not wrong – his chest and back completely stretched out his tank top. Well developed delts and traps topped off the look with the barest tease of his serrati disappearing into the shirt down each side. The dense spread of blond hair across his pecs was trimmed but not shaved. Same thing under the arms, but, as Cas's gaze involuntarily lowered, not the legs. Interesting.... “Uh, Hello?” New guy tried his greeting again, this time paired with a confident smirk in response to Cas's less-than-subtle ogling. “Sorry, sorry – Hi?” Cas couldn't stop himself from blushing scarlet. “I just came over here to say that I, um, really like your shirt...?” Karen snorted in the background. “That sounded like a question. You sure that's why you're over here?” Cas gave a pointed stare at TJ across the gym. New Guy turned his head to follow the look. TJ just stood there, watching patiently with a malicious stare – his blue eyes chips of ice from across the room. Cas shivered at the hate in the look. New Guy noticed the shiver as he turned back. “Just... just ignore him.” “It's... complicated.” “I'm sure it is. Any more complicated than why you decided to wear a shirt that has a buff, dead-lifting unicorn with a rainbow, mohawk mane to a gym in a small, conservative city?” New Guy took another step closer so they were barely 6 inches apart. “There is nothing wrong with my shirt. It's a dead-lifting unicorn, where the hell else am I supposed to wear it?” Cas hissed out through his teeth and tiptoed closer trying to intimidate New Guy. New Guy didn't rise to the bait. He just widened his stance, rolled his broad shoulders back distractingly and kept eye-contact with Cas. “I didn't say there was. It's ballsy. I like it.” “Oh... um...” Cas deflated immediately and shuffled backward. This was...unexpected. “Hey, you don't have to- Fuck this posturing bullshit. I'm Blake.” New guy held out his hand at what he hoped was a non-offensive distance. Cas reached out and shook it, grateful for the offer. “Cas.” For a shorter guy, Blake's hand dwarfed his in thickness. Sure, Cas's hand was a bit longer, but the strength in the breadth of Blake's palm could easily crush his if he wanted. Blake eyed the guy shaking his hand quickly. He had looked so confident laughing and joking with that woman from across the gym. He was taller than he looked – lean and athletic upper torso tapering to a lean waist. Blake could see the obvious curve of his ass through the pants but couldn't tell much else about his legs. High cheekbones highlighted his oval-shaped face capped with playfully tousled toffee-brown hair. His eyes were a vibrant green set evenly beneath what had to be shaped brows. A narrow, refined nose split the face evenly with full lips below that would be perfect for giving... a lot. Blake turned away to surreptitiously adjust himself a bit as he halted his thoughts before he got fully hard in his workout shorts. “Just Cas? Or is it short for something else?” “You sure ask a lot of questions, Blake?” “How else am I supposed to get to know you?” Why was this guy so defensive? “What did TJ send you over here to do?” “Well...um....” Blake knew this was a bad idea. Why did he agree to this? Cas saw the look of confusion flit across Blake's face. “Caspian. Cas is short for Caspian.” The revelation emboldened Blake. “He wanted me to challenge you to some sort of lift competition? I just kinda smiled and nodded and hoped I'd be able to work out what he really wanted once I got over here and started talking to you. He gave me this free workout drink to do it. I'm supposed to get the other part to after I, um, blow you away and win. He's kind of a creepy asshole, actually. He kept going on about how he was finally going to be the one to teach you something? I figured I didn't have a lot to lose – I don't really know anyone at this gym yet. It's a great ice-breaker, in here anyway, showing off a bit without being an ass and maybe find a work out partner. Besides, it's not like you'd be able to lift as heavy as I can, right?” Blake finished with what he hoped was a cocky yet endearing grin. “I'm sorry, what was that last part?” Cas had a plan forming in his mind. “TJ kinda led me to believe you'd be, well, smaller than me.” Cas quirked an eyebrow at that. “And even though you're not exactly small, there's no way you could ever lift as much as these guns!” Blake brought his arms up and flexed, hard balls of muscle popping up and filling the space above his arms. They were impressive on his frame – probably 15 inches cold. “Did he say what you were supposed to win?” “Something about you wearing the little blue devil and proving it to me and to him at the gym. Does that make any sense to you?” “He told you to ask for that?! Are you sure?” “Pretty sure. He made me repeat it before I got this drink.” Blake started to lift it up to his mouth to take a swig but Cas reached out and touched his elbow lightly, leaning in to whisper. “Don't drink it, Blake. Keep raising it to your mouth and pretend to drink but whatever you do, don't actually put it in you. And don't let TJ know that you aren't slugging it back. TJ has a number of...questionable hobbies. One of them is amateur...biochemistry, you might say.” Cas stepped back and looked around for Karen. They were probably going to need help for what he had in mind. "I'm sorry? Are you saying that this is some kind of...experiment for him?" Blake stared at the unnaturally scarlet liquid in his shaker cup. “Do you really know TJ outside of the gym, Blake?” “Uh, no. And I only joined like a week-and-a-half ago. I was using the gym on the college campus before I started my practical placement. What's the deal with you two? You looked really on edge earlier when you first looked over at him and now you're acting weird again....” “I just need to find my friend, the woman I was with before. I'll be right back, okay?” “Uh yeah? I'll just wait here?” “Perfect.” Cas practically bolted toward the cardio machines. After legs, Karen usually cooled down on a treadmill. He found her on her favourite one and led her back to Blake, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Hey Kid, hear you're going to challenge Caspian to some lifts?” Karen smirked as she drawled out Cas's full name. “Um, that's right, Ma'am?” Karen raised an eyebrow at getting Ma'am-ed. “Er, Miss? Do you... prefer Ms. maybe?” Karen burst out laughing as Blake floundered. “What's the matter, Kid? Haven't you ever seen a woman who lifts?” “Er, nooo...” Blake raised his shaker cup and almost forgot to only pretend to take a drink. “It's Karen, Kid. And don't really drink that shit – it's toxic as hell if it's from TJ.” She took a swig of water. "So here's the deal, Karen," Cas started. "TJ asked Blake here to challenge me, defeat me handily, and as his prize, I was to wear the little blue devil to the gym in order to prove it to Blake and TJ." Karen choked on her water. “He wants that?! Oh Kid, what the hell did you do to piss TJ off?” “My. Name. Isn't. Kid.... It's Blake. And what the hell is this blue devil thing? Why is it so important?” Cas leaned in conspiratorially and brought up a picture on his phone. Blake sputtered and his ears flushed bright pink. “He wants me to make you wear an ass plug?! Wait, does that thing actually fit in your ass?” Several people looked over at the trio strangely. “Say it a bit louder, Blake,” Caspian whispered. “I think there's a deaf woman in the tanning room who didn't hear you.” He stepped back and looked over Karen and Blake before continuing. “So, if you win, that's what you're going to get from me. I can guarantee TJ will bring his posse in on it and you probably won't be getting out of here without having your own forced blue devil experience.” “TJ is so sick. Sick and wrong. Why can't I just go over there and call him out? You know the management has just been looking for a reason....” Karen was livid. “Guys, I just met you. This is a little...heavy. Is he really going to get away with this?” Blake was looking green. “Hell no. You're not going to win.” “What!?” “You're not going to win....” “How the fuck are you going to do that!? I mean, you're in great shape and all, but I'm pretty sure the advantage is mine.” Blake puffed up. He wanted to help Cas out but he didn't want to be shown up in public by someone so...slim.... “Kid – shit, sorry - Blake, you don't know what you're in for.” Karen caught on to where Cas was going with his plan after hearing Blake's self-aggrandizing. “Did TJ tell you what he wanted you to beat me at?” Cas grinned widely down at Blake. “He...no, he didn't....” “That just convinces me he wanted to get back at you for something. Here's the wager, if you win, TJ ravages our asses against our will. If I win, you have to attend a HIIT class with me tomorrow morning and let me take you to brunch. Deal?” “I'm sorry, are you saying that if I win we throw ourselves at TJ's mercy but if you win, I'm the one who gets free food?” “And you have to attend the class.” “Pffft, it's a fitness class. I'll be fine.” “Do we have a deal?” “Fine, whatever. We have a deal.” “Karen. You get to be our neutral witness. Not even TJ will argue with you.” “Oh Blake, you're in for a ride today.... You doing what I think you're doing, Cas?” “Yup. Blake, you're challenging me to standing calf raises. Working set of 8.” “What?!” “You look like you don't skip leg day so it shouldn't be a complete blow out for you.” “Calf raises?” Blake was still stupefied as Cas led him over to the machine. “C'mon Blake. You should warm up.” Cas started to adjust the pads for Blake's height and then stopped himself. That was going to involve way more physical contact than someone like Blake would probably want from him. “You should, um adjust the machine for yourself....” “Are we seriously doing standing calf-raises?! Who the fuck tests themselves with calf-raises?” A couple of machines over, one of TJ's lackeys overheard the comment and started snickering. Blake blushed deeply, a tight coil of anger gathered in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck them, let's do this. I hope you know what you're doing, Caspian.” He lowered the shoulder pads and popped the pin down to 250 lbs and blew through 8 quick reps. "Nice, Blake! Did you even feel that? And starting at 250 will help make sure TJ gets the drawn-out show he thought he wanted. Just let me get the pads up." Cas slid into the machine and smoothly cranked out a warm-up set. Blake watched him lower the pin to 300. That wasn't too much below what Blake used as a working set. "All ready for you. Pin should be set too." Blake stepped in and started to push up, but something felt off. The shoulder pads weren't sitting where they should. They were too high. He shot Cas a glare, who stood there making the least convincing innocent face in the history of pranks. “Nice, Caspian. 'Cause that hasn't been done to me since high school. How tall are you anyway – you've got to be at least 6 feet if you need to raise it that much more than my 5 feet, 6.5 inches." Blake lowered the pads a bit more. Cas looked from him to Karen, who looked back at Blake and slowly shook her head. “Blake, who told you that you're – aw Fuck - it was TJ wasn't it?” Cas was fuming – this was a new low. “Uh, yeah. Said his drink could make me at least an inch taller in a week, just like it bumped him up to 6 feet, 5 inches....” “I'm not 6 feet tall. I might squeak by at 5 feet, 11 inches. Karen's 5 feet, 4 inches and you don't have almost three inches on her....” Blake looked over at Karen. His eyes were above hers by about an inch, but if she was only 5' 4”.... He tried to stop the tears of anger from welling up in his eyes. Simultaneously, both Cas and Karen reached out to touch his shoulders but he shrugged them off and stepped into the machine. “I'm going to fucking kill him. He is such an asshole!” Karen started to march off but Cas grabbed her shoulder. “Just wait. He'll get his without you having to go murder anyone. Blake, you good?” "Yup. Apparently, I'm still... 5 feet fucking 5 inches and...just fucking... fine...." He started slowly lifting himself up and down. “Hey, tell me about your favourite breakfast food? Pancakes? No – it has to be waffles. You totally look like you're into waffles.” Cas approached the machine taking care not to make physical contact with Blake. Blake finished his set without answering and just stared at the machine. “I bet someone as built as you are - like a stacked tank - can pack away tonnes of food, right?” When in doubt, appeal to the straight man's sense of masculinity. It managed to get a small smile out of Blake, but was he straight? “You have no idea, Cas. I'm going to cost you so much money with breakfast tomorrow. I'm going to eat so much – you're going to help me get even more massive.” Blake's small smile widened as he described the vast quantities of food he would consume. “You're up.” “You okay if I up the ante to speed this along? I think it may have been a bad idea to try and give TJ a show.” “Absolutely. He deserves nothing from us. I'm a little lost about why you decided to go along with this whole thing that he set up anyway. You clearly don't like him and I've put together that he probably doesn't like you so much either. Which is weird, because every time I met up with him, he was always talking about you.” “It's complicated.” “Yeah, you said that earlier....” Blake trailed off mid-sentence, obviously trying to cue Cas to jump in at any time. "Have you ever had someone do things to you over and over and over that you couldn't stop because they were just too strong, too big, too powerful, too whatever for you to deal with? And eventually, you resign yourself to just go along with certain things to avoid making it worse on yourself? To avoid the struggle, because the struggle always ends up with you losing and making things worse for yourself?” “I can't say that I've ever really experienced it....” Blake started to look distinctly uncomfortable with where Cas might be going. “But you can follow the train of thought?” “A bit, I guess. Kinda sounds a little... rough, actually.” “Yeah...you could say that....I-” Cas stopped himself and sighed. This wasn't the time or place; he could not have this conversation here. “...Cas...?” Karen's hand reached out and made the faintest contact with his elbow. Blake watched them look at each other silently. Without exchanging a single word, he saw the tension bleed out of Caspian with that single, gossamer touch from his friend. Hearing Cas speak, seeing him fight to get the words out.... Blake wasn't stupid. He knew where the train of thought led. It woke something inside him, not quite a righteous anger, but a desire to make things different, to show Cas that he was stronger than he gave himself credit for. “Let's just say it's like that, okay? I don't want to give TJ any reason to do anything and so I'm going along with this little charade of his. Besides, if I hadn't, you and I might not have really met, right?” Cas tried to lighten the mood. This was way too serious. “Well if you put it that way, I am pretty amazing....” Blake couldn't resist bringing his arms up behind his head and flexing them while he flared out his shoulders and upper back. The look of raw, naked awe and desire Cas gave him fuelled whatever was awakening within him. He wanted so much more of that look. He wanted so much more than five paltry minutes of feigned intimacy with this person. Caspian discerned a change in Blake's expression, a glint of something he couldn't identify. Shaking off his own emotions he broke the gaze and looked back at the machine. "Brilliant then. Let's finish this." Cas lowered the pin to 350 and adjusted the pads, taking special care to actually mark what height Blake needed. He cranked out the set without breaking a sweat. Blake gaped at how easy Cas did the warm-up set. “You're still warming up at 350?” It was Cas's turn to blush a bit as he lowered the pads. “....yeah.... Um, maybe you should just go for your max...?” Blake gulped and stepped into the machine. He liked leg day... mostly. He didn't skip it at least. How could this ...twig, well relative to him anyway, outperform him on any lift? He dropped the pin to 400 and took a deep breath. It was one plate more than he had worked with last week – he could do this! He made it to three before he started to struggle. Four and five burned but were workable. Six... six was rough. Seven...he felt the weight move up the slightest bit before he had to lower it. “Nice job, Ki-Blake. I'll give you your seven.” Karen clapped him on the back. She was being generous and he knew it. “Fuck. TJ's starting to make his way over. I'll try to make this quick, but it might get ugly, Blake.” Cas raised the pads and did four quick lifts and then stopped and lowered the pin to 500 even. Blake's jaw fell open as he watched Cas work through his complete set. At least this time it looked like he had to work for it a little. “Can he actually max the machine?” Blake's gaze didn't leave Cas's curvaceous ass methodically rising up and down in steady, controlled motion. “Probably.” Karen crossed her arms and widened her stance in preparation for TJ's arrival with his henchmen. “He's stopping at 500 so I can save some face, isn't he?” “Yuuup. Cas is usually a pretty good kid.” “Finally, he gets Kidded.” Karen snorted. “Kid, everyone's 'kid' to me. Except TJ and his crew – they're just assholes.” “Is he... How...old-” Blake leaned in close to ask but Karen saved him from having to say it. “25. But you didn't hear it from me.” She spoke low enough for only Blake to hear before calling out as Cas finished his set, “And that's a set of 8 at 500 for Caspian. You want to try it, Blake?” “Hell no. I, uh, have to survive a HIIT class tomorrow now and find something clean to wear for breakfast....” Cas stepped out of the machine just as TJ finished his lumbering approach. Blake watched Cas's body tense. He raised himself up onto the balls of his feet as if he were expecting to run or kick. He clenched his hands tight but not into fists. Blake could see Cas's fingernails digging into his palms. Was he seriously going to make himself bleed? Could he be that angry? And then Cas shot a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Blake and Karen were with him. His eyes were wide with fear, pupils dilated in preparation of a flight response. Despite his anxiety, he still managed to turn back to the object of his terror and stand his ground as TJ sneered down at him. Blake cursed under his breath and started toward Caspian. Karen quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him from rushing in before Cas had a chance to stand up for himself. “Queer.” The voice sounded reedy, petulant. A sharp contrast to the hulking exterior. Dark hair and a solid brow line scowled over emotionless blue eyes. A grim slash of a mouth barely opened when he talked. He could someday, possibly even be handsome if he bothered taking care of himself or took the time to smile occasionally. “TJ.” Cas returned icily. “Anything I can help you with?” “Just coming over to see how your little competition went. Calf-raises huh? Can't say I'm really surprised that someone as pitiful as you would pick something like that, Cassie.” He rested a hand on the machine and leaned down into Cas, trying his best to force him into giving ground. Blake was having none of it. He broke from Karen and deftly interposed himself between Cas and TJ's looming form. Sure, Cas was tall enough that TJ still had a clear shot at his face, but if he tried it, he'd have to leave his abdomen open to whatever Blake wanted to dish out. Blake shoved his shaker cup up at TJ's chest. Hard. The unexpected movement caught TJ off guard and he stumbled back a step. Blake felt Cas slowly let out the breath he had been holding. “It went pretty well, all things considered, big fella.” Blake kept his voice steady, neutral. “I did get my ass handed to me though, so there won't be any blue devil in your immediate future. I guess you'll have to have one of your 'friends' help you out with that instead.” TJ's eyes narrowed. "Oh, and I won't need that drink you offered me after all. Looks like I didn't have the stomach for the first bit. How about you keep my shaker cup, eh? It's the least I could do for all the assistance you gave me showing me around this week and helping me figure out who to avoid.” “Careful, shortstack. Pretty sure you're making a mistake right now.” “Nah. No mistake. But thanks. So Much. For coming over. To say goodbye.” Blake laid it on thick at the end. A moment of tense silence settled between them before TJ finally spoke. “That's... cool.... We were just about to head out anyway. Take care, ladies.” His inflection ensured not a single person felt anything was 'cool.' TJ pushed against Blake as he made his way past the trio and toward the door. The couple of hangers-on scampered after him looking more like animated caricatures than actual people. Just as he reached the corner Cas called out. “Blake was telling me about your problem with accurately measuring your height, TJ. If you ever need someone to help you buy shoes with even thicker soles than those ones so you can actually hit 6'4,” give me a call. I'd love to help you deal with your insecurity.” TJ stopped for a moment but didn't turn around. His two underlings failed to notice and collided with his broad back. Muttering apologies to TJ, they all awkwardly started toward the exit again. "Well, you two little shits were in fine form. Did you feed each other fistfuls of sass pills while you were flirting earlier?" Karen barely managed to keep a straight face. Blake shook himself out while Cas tried to control his breathing. "Thanks, guys. And Blake, you didn't have to do that, stepping in front of me. It was a stupidly brave, kind gesture and really appreciated but you could have gotten yourself killed or worse what if he had actu-" “Hey.” Blake raised a hand up to Cas's shoulder to snap him out of his rant. “If I didn't want to be there, I wouldn't have put myself there. I'll do it any time and every time....” He looked as if he was going to say something else but instead suddenly blurted,” I, um, have to get out of here. Now. To go do some laundry so I have something that doesn't make me look like a hobo for tomorrow. What time's the class?” "7:30 am. Lasts about 45 minutes. Don't wear loose boxers. See you then?" “Without a doubt.” Blake gave them one final bi flex before making his way toward the men's locker room with an overhead wave. Karen and Cas watched him leave in silence. “You manage to figure out if he likes you yet?” Karen crossed her arms again. “I had, like, five minutes. Five. What do think I said, Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” “From you? Yeah.” “Oh my god. I hate you so much right now.” “Nah you don't. He know you're teaching the class tomorrow?” “Not a chance.” “Smooth. Sure that'll be fun. Maybe I'll show up to see his face.” “No you won't – you won't even be out of bed until after 9:00 am.” “Nooope.” Karen grinned and then looked at Cas expectantly. “Well?” "Well, what?" All Cas could think about was how the hell he was going to patch together a workout when all he could think about was Blake's smile and his biceps and the perfect pattern of shorn hair on his mammoth chest.... “Aren't you going to follow him?” “Like, right now?” “Yes, now! Go.” With a playful shove from Karen, Cas tried to keep from tripping over his own feet as he hurried toward the locker room.
  2. This story kind of took me by surprise. It has a life of its own. It's completely different from anything I've written before. It is romance-based and also a college story of first love. It is absolutely separate from anything else I've written here so if you like my previous stories thematically, just know this story has nothing in common with the rest of my work. I have almost the entire thing already written. I'm just editing now. I'm working on the last two chapters. Part 1 Northern California Not San Francisco, winter 1998 My name is Pete and this is my story about how I started to live a new life because my old one was really painful, and sometimes you have so much pain in your life, you need to walk away from it and just forget all of it ever existed. I was a freshman in college and walking through the chill night air, my breath turning to fog, when I heard Dane sobbing. He sat there in a T-shirt, on a damn cold night, sobbing and shivering. It was the strangest sight. Here was a behemoth of a man, a muscular giant of a man, the man I idolized, and he was unable to stop crying. I wanted to immediately walk over and give him my jacket, but I knew that was stupid because my jacket would never fit him. I didn’t know what to do at first. I wanted to go over and hold him, but I’m unable to do that with people. Especially big people. Big guy people that look like Dane, with their enormous melon-arms and ash blond crew cuts. His rugged, masculine, awe-inspiring face that could be in a commercial, a perfect face that I could see in a suit behind a Senator’s desk someday, or a sales company executive position, or the football uniform that he wore on the field. And he was alone. And he shouldn’t be alone. I stood there, between two dorm buildings. He was sitting on the steps to his dorm. I walked over to him, and I didn’t really plan on it. What I wanted to do was keep walking because I tend to hide from people. I run away from them. I’ve done it all my life out of necessity in order to stay alive. But I was sick of the old me. I was sick of feeling like the old me. “Dane?” He looked up at me. He wasn’t startled. He had noticed me walking across the dew-covered green. The fog was so thick you could see it obscuring the dorms at the far ends of the long rectangular quad. “Hey.” I kept my voice low. “You shouldn’t be out here with a T-shirt on. You wanna go inside? Or, if not, I can go run and get you a blanket because dude, you are gonna freeze to death.” “It’s okay.” He sniffed. “Leave me alone.” I hesitated. “I’m not supposed to do that.” That just came to me. Things happen like that with me. “Huh?” “Remember all that stuff I told you?” “Oh,” he said emptily. Something was very wrong here. “They’re telling me to bring you inside. So. Yeah.” I felt awkward but I knew he was going to get sick if he stayed outside too much longer. “I don’t want you to get sick. And you will.” “Okay.” He said quietly. He got up, as if he was unsure where he was and walked into his dorm room and I was right behind him, for some reason. I immediately asked him if he had any tea. He didn’t answer me so I opened a few cupboards and found some and got a pot of water boiling. Dane was sitting on the couch, his hands clasped, tears silently falling down his face, drying as he stared at nothing. His roommate Pat was there. Pat was a short Jewish guy, with a curly black mat of hair. Thin as a reed. Confident, though. Really confident. And mature. He was a good guy. Pat walked out cautiously from his room to check out what was happening. It was late, so he whispered even though there was no one else in their apartment because the walls between your dorm room and the next were always going to be thin. “Hey.” Pat crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, staring at me. “Was he outside like this?” “Yeah,” I whispered back. I walked past him to gently open Dane’s door. I turned on the light and found a big warm brown jacket with fleece lining, something that dwarfed me, and brought it out. He opened his arms mechanically and shrugged it on and then he leaned over sideways and said, after a while, “My father died.” And then I didn’t know what to say. Dane was the biggest, strongest man I’d ever met. He was on the football team. He was everything I wasn’t: big, strong, powerful, brave, sexy, self-assured, calm. I was shy, lonely, self-isolating, sheltered, an emotional trainwreck, only recently out, and I was more attracted to him than anyone I’d ever known. It should have been me crying in the middle of the night freezing my ass off. It threw me. This couldn’t be happening. But it was, and it was happening to this man who I avoided rather than lust after him, because I was gay but incredibly realistic about my prospects with him. And I didn’t want to do that to myself, lust after someone I couldn’t have. It hurt too much to love, to love too much, to love someone who didn’t think about you that way. But I should back up at this point, because it’s kind of important to tell you about how we met. Part 2 Beginning of fall semester, 1998 I met a lot of people when I got to uni. I wasn’t used to people. I was the only one who had brought literally everything I owned, because before that I was in foster care. What I owned filled one suitcase. I had been with a couple who were tolerant at first until they began to suspect I might be gay. The high voice, the lack of coordination and ability to play sports, the enthusiasm I showed over bodybuilding magazines that I hid under my mattress that the wife found. I tried to tell them I just was really excited about the idea of getting bigger in a gym. That didn’t work because they confronted me. They wouldn't let me leave unless I told them the truth. I hate it when people do that. Ask me to tell the truth. It’s so wrong. Then they sent me back. So that was that. I had tried to train myself not to feel anything. The thing that sucked was I liked them. I was afraid they wouldn’t like me and my worst fear had come true. That happened to me a lot. All my worst fears had already come true. But here’s the thing. When all your worst fears come true, there’s nothing left to be afraid of. Not even death. I never felt sorry for myself over any of it. And I’d been through such hell. But for whatever reason, I was alive, and I couldn’t mess up a single class or I wouldn’t graduate from college. So that occupied like 90% of my thoughts most of the time because I ran off of stress. It kept me alive. And that was the thing I was hoping would normalize me somehow, going to college. I remember thinking how I wanted to be a normal person. “So, Pete, tell me about yourself.” This was the thing my Residential Advisor Michael had said to me as he wanted to interview me for a newsletter that he was putting together. He was also new to the school and he had asked me to help him out. He was putting together a newsletter for the dorms. He was friendly and intelligent and for whatever reason he was interested in me. I had no idea why. He had come over to my shared dorm on a Friday night but there was no room in my bedroom because it was very cramped and two of my roommates were having fun in the living room talking loudly. He asked my third roommate Jay if we could use his room for the interview. Each bedroom was made for two people but his was much bigger than the one for me and Jeff. This is important because Jay was just ignoring us and working on something or other on his computer. Or looking at porn, maybe. I didn’t know but he was nice to me, so I supported him in his efforts to look at boobs and tried to join in and act like him and all my other roommates when they checked out hot women on TV. But I was flummoxed. What could I say about myself? “I don’t know what to say. Um. Hmm. I like to read a lot. I like to read science fiction and fantasy. A lot. Big epics. I’m reading Dan Simmons books right now. He’s really good.” “Why don’t you tell me about your family? Who’s in your family?” “I don’t have any family. They’re all dead.” Boy, can I kill the vibe. It never failed. My reality was a downer. I didn’t always realize that, though. I said it in a chipper way, like I was in a job interview and just trying to pretend I was really happy to be there. I had retrained my brain, you see. Act like them. Act like them and they will think you’re one of them. His face had changed so quickly. He looked at me, this handsome, middle-aged religion major with glasses and a squarish chin. Thinning, prematurely gray blond hair cut neat and short. Not like my mess of a bird’s nest of brown hair that just went in all directions. I had a tendency back then to compare myself to everyone unfavorably, in case you hadn’t guessed. “When did they die?” Cue look of concern. No need for concern. I’m fine. “Well, my father committed suicide because he was a war veteran when I was a baby and my mother died of cancer when I was 13. My grandmother, I lived with her for a while until she got dementia. She just died but I hadn’t seen her in years. She didn’t know who I was anymore. So it’s okay. So I went to live in foster care but they kick you out when you’re 18. So I emancipated myself. I’m actually 17 but I graduated high school at 16 so I could come here. So, I’m on my own!” I finished with a shrug and a smile. He adjusted his glasses and seemed lost in thought for a brief second before coming back to me. “Pete. Um. Wow. That’s really powerful.” At this point, Jay left the room silently and closed the door behind him. “Huh?” “I think, maybe, it’s a bad idea to do an article about you. I think…what I’d like to do instead is just talk to you. I think you need it.” “Oh. Sorry.” “No! Don’t be sorry. Look, you’re…incredible.” “No one thinks that. No one ever thinks that.” “Well, I think that, and I’m someone. And, I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me more.” No one had ever really been interested in me before. It was a new feeling. “I don’t know what to say. I just want to be normal. And uh. I’m the only one here who doesn’t have parents. So that’s not normal. Everyone else does have them. They all have families. It’s weird. It makes me feel…like I’m not one of them. Like they can’t relate to me and I can’t relate to them. So I just...” “Have you thought about getting counseling?” “You mean like, how to get a job?” “Nnnnno. I mean, as in psychological.” Oh God. He thinks there’s something wrong with me, I thought. I immediately felt his shock resonating through me. I felt disgust for myself. I felt his pity for me and I hated it. “Oh. I didn’t know I needed that. I just thought that if I came here I could be like everyone else.” Easy peasy. Problem solved. No trauma here, folks. I’m just fine and dandy. One day, I would be one of those happy people bouncing up and down on the beach on MTV’s Spring Break. I would meet Carson Daly and tell him I thought he was really hot. I would watch hot college guys throw water balloons at each other on stage. I would live the dream. “I think it takes a really special person to admit those things and to have survived through those things.” I was trying to look away from Michael so I couldn’t see his face. I avoided eye contact kind of a lot back then. “I’m not special. I don’t think that’s true.” Maybe in an X-Files sense. I was special but not in ways I could tell anyone about, ever. “Maybe you’re more special than you think.” You have no idea. That’s why I don’t want to be special. I don’t want to be different. You have to understand, this was 1998. Intersectional wasn’t a thing I’d ever heard of and all I wanted was to be a straight white male instead of a gay white male because it was the best possible thing I could be. So I was pretending to be one and it was going swimmingly so far. I didn’t have any problems so long as I kept my mouth shut and made everyone believe me. I was going to be normal. “I don’t know,” I said. “So, do you mind if I ask you, what was your childhood like?” Michael asked me. My mind reeled. I said the first thing that came to my mind. “It was pretty bad. I grew up homeless. I just wanted to die a lot. I was hungry a lot. I was hungry living with my stepfather, too.” Why was I telling him all this?? “You had a stepfather.” Oh goddamnit. “Yeah. But, I didn’t live with him for too much longer after my mother died. He liked to push me into things. Walls. The floor. His fist. He liked to break things. Break me. He uh. I didn’t like living with him. So I told someone. Then I went to live with my grandmother. But…she didn’t understand how old I was. And she kept thinking I was five or she would confuse me with my mother and she would just start screaming at me to give her the drugs and I would just cry and tell her I didn’t do drugs. And then she stopped eating. She told me she was going to starve herself to death so I called the cops and they came and took her away and she was just, screaming. I visited her in the home one time. She started screaming at me that I was a…she used bad words. It was bad. She kept getting me confused with other people. She didn’t like me anymore. So, I couldn’t go back. I lived with this nice couple for a while and I really wanted them to like me but in the back of my mind I knew it probably wouldn’t last. So it hurt less, I think, when they said I wasn’t good enough to live there. I mean, they didn’t say that. They said, “we think you’ll be a lot happier living somewhere else.”” “Why did they say that?” He was genuinely horrified now. I hadn’t even told him the really bad stuff. “They found some magazines. I bought.” “Porn?” “No! I would never! They had clothes on. But, they just didn’t like them. I wasn’t good enough. For them. But it’s fine.” “Pete, are you gay?” He whispered. Oh God. I started crying at that point. I felt so stupid. I put my hands over my head. Stupid, stupid, stupid! “You can’t say anything! I finally tricked everyone this time! I can be normal!” We stood up at the same time. He came over to me slowly, and hugged me, carefully. “You are. You are normal.” “I just want to be what everyone wants me to be,” I mumbled. “I’ve been so careful. And then you saw it. I should have lied. I shouldn’t have told you that. I fucked up. Fuck.” He sighed. “Okay. Would you like to take a walk? Get some coffee?” I nodded. “I think that would be a good idea." I nodded again. "Go to the bathroom and wash up. I’ll wait for you outside in the hallway.” So I did and we went over to a local café. We sat there in the student lounge café. It was pleasant. We talked a little bit. Our talk had a bit more levity to it. I’m clever when I want to be. He told me so. He wasn’t coming onto me or anything. I wondered if he was gay. He seemed like he might be but I’d never made a gay friend before. But I liked him. I liked Michael. He was nice to me. And we talked. And that’s when I saw Dane. Dane would change my life forever, by the way. Dane was huge. Bigger than life. His muscles were so big I thought I would have a heart attack. I was already so stupidly emotional that night and now here I was, lusting and drooling automatically after an enormous jock that dwarfed me and my pathetic 5’8” 145 frame. I remember Michael introduced us. I remember going into this autopilot mode. I looked up at him and he said something in his deep voice and I just wanted him to hold me but that would have been entirely inappropriate and I would have been a terrible person if I’d just reached out and grabbed those big…huge…unbelievable muscles of his. I only came up to his chest. There was just so much more of him. He had to be one of the tallest guys on campus easily. I thought he was 6'4". It would turn out he was actually 6’6” and still growing. “Hi!” I kept saying over and over again. My mind broke and I couldn’t think straight. I think I said hi like four times before Michael realized I was short circuiting and Dane was looking at me weird so Michael excused us because we were having a chat. That was my first time meeting Dane. It was the night I finally told someone I was gay. Michael was nice to me and told me where I could go to get counseling. And I did so the following Monday. I signed up dutifully. Because if I wasn’t normal I was going to get someone to make me normal. To coax me into normality. Or maybe I could just teach myself to be normal through some kind of self help book. “Your Guide to Being Normal and Not a Muscle Fetishist Lusting After Giant Jocks” On second thought, fuck that book that I just made up in my head. Part 3 I stood in front of my roommates: Jeff, Jay, and Mike S. Jeff was usually not there because he was usually off having sex with someone. Jodi and Ames where also there. Jodi was who Jeff was usually fucking and Ames lived down the hall. It was short for Amy but everyone just called her Ames. Amy kind of looked like Renee Zellwegger before she got plastic surgery, only she had this larger than life voice and laugh, like a stand up comedian. Jodi looked sort of like Monica from Friends only her black hair was shorter than Courtney Cox’s. But both of them were pretty. Jeff had long hair back then. Like, really long, running halfway down his back, and he wore a short beard. Jeff was a big hippy for the most part. Very easy going. Mike S. had big buck teeth and unkept hair. He couldn't dress for shit and was actually trying to be a stand-up comedian. Jay was the silent type. The cool, compact, guitar-playing lothario of the group. He was the best looking out of the three of them. Mike S. was not really attractive to me. He didn’t take very good care of himself and was already getting fat. But Jay had this classic look to him. Very neatly groomed, hair clipped nice and short, a smooth rich voice. On the small side, though. He was 5’7” and on the thin side but he was deeply in love with a girl that he wrong songs for, and then he would write songs when she dumped him, and then he would find a new girl to write songs for, and then he would write songs when she dumped him. It kind of went on like that all year. These were the only people in my life. I didn’t have anyone else to come out to. They were watching TV and for some reason I’d gotten up. I’d been going to counseling for a few weeks and learned that the goal wasn’t for my counselor to “fix” me like I was an old pipe. I thought it would be easy, but it turns out I actually had to do all of the work and dig deep and not pretend I was someone else because apparently that would not make me happy. “I um. I have…I have something to tell you guys. And um. Um. It’s kind of important.” Jodi grabbed the remote and muted the TV. I think she knew as soon as I was there what I was going to say. “I’m…kind of…not straight.” I’ve just been pretending to be. Sorry about that! “So, you’re gay?” “Well that is the option that’s left, so yes. Is that…um…is that…okay…with you?” “Pete, I’m bisexual,” Amy told me, matter-of-factly. “Oh,” I said, rather in shock. “I did not know that.” “Wait, WHAT?” Mike S. said. “Are you sure?” “Yeah. I’m gay. It um. It just sort of happened. You know.” “Pete,” said Jeff the hippy. “We love you. You know that, right?” “You guys owe me ten bucks each.” Jay said, coolly. “Jay! Shut UP.” Jodi told him. “I’m just kidding. I didn’t know. But we thought you might be.” “Really?” “But you know, fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly. You know what I’m sayin’?” “I think so,” I said. I kept picturing gay birds and fish fucking each other or trying to. Fish don’t really fuck. I pictured gay fish throwing their sperm at each other during mating season, swimming between the sea-grass. I pictured Don Knotts exclaiming “I don’t want to have sex with a Ladyfish!” in his obnoxious fish voice from The Incredible Mr. Limpet. I’m just letting you know, dear reader, I used to watch a lot of old movies and I didn’t have any humans to raise me so TV had to take over for that. “Do you think that birds can be gay or..” “Probably,” Jay said. “Anyway, it’s cool.” Amy got up and hugged me. I’d never really hung out with her much but she was really very sweet. “It’s fine. We love you.” “I didn’t know that. I thought…” “Does your family know?” Jodi asked. “I don’t really have a family. I was in foster care. The couple I was with sent me back, though. They didn’t order a gay and I think they got Asian takeout after me.” “Well you should have gotten higher SAT scores!” Mike S. the comedian said. “Yeah, I know.” “Don’t you have a grandmother?” Jodi asked. “I did, but she died. She kind of lost her mind. I told her once when I came to visit but she sort of yelled at me that I was a communist faggot and the Soviets had gotten to me.” Mike S. started belly laughing. “Oh my God, that is SO terrible, but you HAVE to let me use that in my routine.” “Yeah, why not?” “So I’m just curious. When we were watching MTV, and you were checking out hot girls with us, you were not actually attracted to them.” Jay said. “No, not at all.” “Are you attracted to the guys?” “Yes, very much.” “Okay, then. Well, that takes care of that.” Jay grabbed his guitar. “I have to go meet Charlene. If you want to bring a guy over, it’s cool.” “Thanks. Thank you. Thanks.” “No prob,” Jay said, and went to find a girl to sing to. “Pete? Do you want to watch TV with us?” Jeff asked. “Yeah. That’d be cool.” Jodi and Amy smiled. They had a new gay friend. “We are gonna have so much fun checking out guys together,” Jodi said. She put her hand on my knee. “Maybe eventually? It’s a little bit soon for that.” “So who do you think is hot?” Amy asked. “NOT ME, PLEASE.” Mike S. said. “Definitely not you.” I affirmed. “Hey! That’s probably for the best.” He giggled. “Yeah, no you’re like family. That would be gross.” “I also think it would be gross to have sex with you. Good. We’re on the same page here.” “Yeah, I would rather my tongue fall out than actually kiss you.” I told him. “I would literally rather be kicked in the head by a gay figure skater spinning around on an ice rink than have sex with you.” He countered. “I would literally rather stick my hands up an elephant’s asshole and clean out its shit out with a giant enema and then clean out the shit bits with a giant Q-tip than have sex with YOU.” I shot back. At this point, everyone was laughing and there was no more tension. Everyone except Jay, who was out fucking some girl named Charlene. I had never had sex before, but I had heard good things about it.
  3. Thanks to Dredlifter for the idea suggestion of this little thing - or maybe it will wind up being a big thing. I haven’t written a story like this in a long time - at least 4 years. I hope you will bear with me for a slow burn introduction here and getting my “verbal” chops back into shape. But the fun stuff will start coming next chapter. I am open to any and all feedback as I want to re-hone my writing abilities. Critiques are welcome -------- To Protect and Serve - Chapter 1 - The First Morning Prelude: Just imagine - You’re standing at attention with your peers in your best Class-A Uniform. All around you in the auditorium your friends, family, and fellow officers who can come are here to see the solemn occasion. A freshly earned, freshly shined badge has just been pinned on your chest by the Sheriff. You raise your right hand and take the oath. The oath is a bit different from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, but we boil its meaning down to one phrase - “To Protect and Serve.” So many have taken the oath. Some who took it did little things that made a big difference, while some risked their lives and paid the ultimate price. And some … well … some are special. This is the story of one of those special ones - no, he is even more than that. Though it was not his intention nor mine, he went beyond special. How do I know? He saved me. He has given me a life I could never have dreamed possible that first early morning. And what happened to him? Well, a transformation that is better in the telling. To those who take the oath as seriously as he did; To those who give it a new and bigger meaning as he did; to those who change more than they can imagine by repeating those words as he did, this story is dedicated. This is the story of what could happen if you could protect and serve many thousands of people, and just one man, me, in ways beyond your wildest imagination. ~ Gabriel York ----- A deceptively small man hung his duty shirt onto a dry cleaners hanger and placed it in his locker. As he stood bare chested in the cool air, he appeared to be hiding his body, but he had nothing to be ashamed of - having a lithe but very tight build under that shirt. Nicely shaped, mounded pecs accompanied hard small orange sized biceps. A tight 6-pack graced his lower abdomen to an impossibly small looking waist. He was way better than most men of his age, no “dad bod” here to be sure. But, the man always felt self-conscious in the locker room despite the room being empty. He wasn’t one of THEM, something that had haunted him since high school. He lifted one booted foot and then the other onto a wooden bench before him. Loosening the laces and pulling the side zipper, he removed each boot. He held them in his hands like precious artifacts for just a moment, remembering the first time he put these on. Soon it would be his last, he mused. His time could go on as long as he wanted. But -- he questioned why. What had he done to stay on? What good had he really done? REALLY made a difference? It took but a few more minutes for him to put on his civilian duty clothes (a departmental polo, slacks,and loafers), secure his badge to his belt, and close his locker. Most locker rooms were replete with all sorts of combination locks, but not here. A few men and most of the women officers used them, but it wasn’t exactly necessary. You couldn’t be in a much safer place after all. Deputy Sergeant John Declann closed his locker for the millionth time and went to collect his personal sidearm from the gun locker clerk. He had no sooner than entered the hallway from the locker room, he heard a truly tremendous booming upper bass voice: “WHOA, ONE SIDE DECLANN.” Declann immediately pulled back into the doorway and looked up … and up, to see 5 men in a tight formation with shields and cell-entry equipment. Each one of them was every bit of 6 foot 4 inches plus - although tactical boots always made you look taller than you were. They were more like 6 foot 2 without them - but still, they all out-weighed John by at least 60 pounds of muscle. At his 5 foot 7 inches in height and in normal shoes, he felt positively TINY seeing them pass by. That was sort of the point of those uniforms - to try and intimidate anyone who saw what was coming - and it always did, at least it did Declann. They were in helmets and wore thick padded vests, under which were black t-shirt with black BDUs and those boots below. While those clothes were technically “loose,” they did little to hide every oversized muscle in their massive bodies. Gigantic arms stretched forth from sleeves that seemed to be straining to the breaking point. 2 pairs of arms were thick, powerlifter looking, and 3 more were supremely cut muscle. The CERT - Cell Extraction and Response Team - blew past him looking like they were heading to Mary-pod - the maximum security section. No doubt it was to remove an offender from a cell for morning counts who did not want to be removed. There was no question, he WOULD be removed, no matter what it took. The injury inflicted was entirely the offender’s choice. And, that amount of muscle and its overwhelming power could do plenty of that. Declann had tried out for both the CERT and SWAT teams years ago. But at his 165 lb, it was deemed he just did not have the physical size necessary. “You have all the skills needed and more Deputy Declann,” he had been told. “You should be proud of that. But some other officers just beat you out in the scores. And we need you on the streets. That is where you belong.” Funny, he thought in a moment of jealousy. It was always those guys who were of larger than life proportions that got the spots, even if their skills were not as good as his. After the group had passed, Declann walked down the hall toward the sallyport and stopped. He always did it at times like this, halting at the Officer’s Gym. He looked inside. It was rather quiet, normal at 0545 and shift change. Still, he could see some of the remnants of workouts by the big guys on the force. 45 pound plates left on the sides of incline bench press rack. What looked like 5 plates on a side on the bar on the squat rack. Dozens on the leg press sled. It was a bit of a mess, in truth, but most well used gyms were. Now, Declann was no physical slouch. He always kept in shape and his skills honed as the primary martial arts instructor for the Sheriff’s Office. He could have done well in that room, even though he was pushing 40 years old. Could have grown. But, he sighed and went on. There was just a part of him that never wanted to face big men in the gym. The injustice of being mocked for his smaller size and unfamiliarity with the equipment the one time he went in blazed in him still all these years later. He guessed the big men thought it was good natured fun, but it hurt Declann deeply. So, he kept to his body weight fitness room and small dojo set up in the garage at home. That made him feel less conspicuous. When it came to them, John always saw himself as a small man in boots that were a size too big. And yet - to so many others, he wasn’t that at all. He was everything that made police work an honorable profession. --- John Declann had wanted to be a police officer for as long as he could remember. Since his youngest days, he had been fascinated by police dramas on TV, how they always seemed to catch the bad guy no matter the odds. How they always saved people in distress. In his mind, there was no better calling. No better way to spend his life. He had the mind to be anything he wanted. He excelled in most subjects in school and was a top flight musician. But, those pursuits were not where he heart lay. He was a cop at heart by his teenage years, and he did everything he could to prepare himself. He took JROTC through high school, where he picked up his interest in martial arts and started Aikido lessons. Though he wasn’t the best team sports, he blasted through the competition at his dojo. He became quite fit from the military style calisthenics workouts he adopted during ROTC summer camps. And, that fitness matched perfectly with his blooming skills with his hands and feet on the mats. Before high school was over, his featured had matured into those of a very fit, handsome young man with striking brown eyes. And he had his first degree black belt, the first degree of many. It took a nearly a year after graduating high school to get his first small town commission to the force. He spent his first 18 months in the jails, and then took and passed his Colorado POST exams. He had been a road officer ever since. Now, he was a Sergeant in the Boulder County Sheriff’s Office - an area not unknown for large scale crimes as it held the University of Colorado. “The Berkeley of the East” though had its full measure of minor offenses. But the area wasn’t exactly the worst gang spots in Denver either. He had for served with true distinction for nearly two decades since - being decorated for bravery multiple times for saving civilians lives under fire. He had saved those intent on suicide. He had even delivered a baby once in a convenience store, and the story made the local news. He had had plenty of hands-on run ins with offenders, but he gave way more than he got, never having much more than a bruise or a black eye on occasion. He just never saw what the community and his immediate superiors did - a good man, serving the people Boulder and the kids of the University the best way he knew how. --- John went out to his car - an unmarked Dodge - cranked it, and began the slow crawl toward the Turnpike then Wheat Ridge. One of the things he learned in his own initial officer training long ago was to never live in the county you worked in. It could always lead to problems with local offenders. So, it was up and over the Flatirons toward home. Even though traffic volume was already increasing as it spread toward Denver in the morning rush, his mind wandered as if on empty roads. He made the necessary turns though the city and came proximate to the University entrances, but was running his schedule through his mind. He was due for a weigh in at the doc’s today. And they usually took his measurements too. Height, waistline, all that stu -- John’s senses caught something in the barely lit dawn. Someone moving way too fast to be normally jogging to the right of his car. Moving toward campus. John slowed his vehicle and his brain went into observation mode. It captured the scene in moments with his practiced eyes and mind. A young man -- looking to be just outside of college age but could still belong to the University. Short, black hair. Trimmed beard. White button down shirt and navy slacks. Looked like there was some money invested in those clothes, certainly not cheap. Behind him, perhaps eight or so paces, was running - and running faster than the first - a white young man, shaved head, jeans and ratty t-shirt, tatted with jailhouse tattoos that stood out even under the fading street lamps. And, then John caught sight of a gun in the rear waistband of the second’s jeans. Semi-auto by the outline. Instinct took over. John turned his car in an instant, hit the flasher toggle for his lights, and wound with wildly fast, yet practiced precision toward the danger. Less than 20 seconds later, John pulled his car to a stop where his instincts said he could cut this off. “Boulder County Sheriff's Office -- ON THE GROUND NOW” John yelled as he leapt from his car and drew his weapon virtually simultaneously. The running suspect didn’t listen, just as John had expected. He instead broke his pursuit of the well-dressed man and taken off toward a side alleyway. But, John was good at his work. The offender was fast, but John - was FASTER. He holstered his weapon as he calculated his movements nearly autonomously. He had chosen his intercept point well. John calculated the takedown, knowing an almost undisputable, universal law - 95 percent of offenders have no idea of how to fight, and the remaining 5% seldom need to fight. And this one looked like the former. It took a few seconds, but just a few, for the whole pursuit to be over. Exactly two PPCT strikes and a normal compliance take down and the suspect wa on his back, with John twisting his arms and putting the handcuffs on. He never even had to hurt more than the punk’s pride. Once secured, John kept his knee in place just under the lower shoulder blades, cuffed arms resting on his quad, knowing a bodyweight advantage and leverage would be critical with this man who slightly outweighed him. “What’s your name?” John demanded as he patted down the suspect and quickly removed a 9mm weapon and several baggies of what looked like methamphetamine. “Fuck you” was the response. John smiled a bit and gave a half chuckle under his breath. He loved this a bit too much when it happened, and some mischievous streak in him just drove him to do it. “OK, Mister Fuk Yu. I am placing you under arrest for possession of an illegal firearm and possession of controlled substances. You have the right to remain silent …” John mirandized the “Mr. Fuck,” pulled him up to his feet, and maneuvered him the few yards to his car. He put the offender in the back seat and locked the door of his unmarked. The guy was going nowhere. Now, to more important matters. John made his way toward the young man being pursued - who had by now stopped and was almost collapsed on the sidewalk. Declann withdrew his cell, called 911, and requested uniformed officers to his location. He was upon the man on the sidewalk just as he hung up. John immediately knelt down to do a quick assessment of his condition. There were no obvious signs of trauma at the first once over. He then took a more careful look at the victim’s features. While he certainly wasn’t of student age, he was still under 30, John guessed. And, he was a very nice looking under 30 to boot. Blue eyes setting off dark, intense features. Old enough to just have the barest hint of a wrinkle at the eye but nothing else. John noted a rather slim body - the size of his own would have been were it not for his training in Aikido and Krav Maga. John felt a twinge of attraction.Yes, John was bisexual, but no one cared among his superiors anymore. Besides, he had always kept that part of himself separate when on duty. “You OK Sir? I can’t see any obvious injuries. Do you need an ambulance?”John asked as he came and sat down at the man’s level. “Thank you . . . . officer, thank . . . you.” The man panted in reply with a pronounced British accent. “I was . . . just going toward my . . . lab . . . after my tea . . . when this fellow . . . started chasing me screaming at . . me. ” The young man was now gathering his breath, becoming easier to understand. John was a bit surprised to hear that English accent coming from him. Not unheard of, but still unusual in Boulder. “Did he assault you in any way?” The Englishman finally looked up to see John’s slightly older but obviously concerned and kind face. He visibly relaxed as he looked into John’s light brown eyes. “No, he never caught me but he was close. I am not exactly in running shorts and shoes here. But thanks to you, I’ll be OK. I do not know what would have happened if you had not arrived when you did.” “With what I found, I suspect he wanted to mug you. You are rather well dressed for campus, if I may observe. And, forgive me, if he heard you accent, you may have looked like an quick target as a tourist. When the uniform officers get here, you will need to give a statement to them, or you can give it to me if you prefer. We need to make sure this scumbag gets what he deserves.” “Of course. Anything I can do to assist, although I would be much happier speaking to you.” the man said giving just a hint of a smile. It was then that the uniformed officers in their black and white vehicles showed up. John excused himself for a moment, let the uniforms know what was going on, and allowed them to take the offender back to the jail for booking. John then returned to the man still sitting on the sidewalk. Pulling out a notebook he kept on him for times like this, John got all the pertinent information as he had done thousands of times before. Name, description of what happened, when, and why, if he knew. Any details the young man, who he had come to know as Gabriel York, may have remembered before, during, and after. As he took the statement, John became even more convinced this was an attempted mugging, perhaps for more drug money, maybe even more if that weapon came into play. Knowing he had all he needed, John said, “Finally, is there a way we can contact you if we have further questions. The staff from the District Attorney's office will be sure to want to speak with you about testimony if it comes to that. Although with the evidence we have, this one will probably plea. This is not his first time in jail.” Gabriel reached into his pocket for a very expensive-looking leather wallet and removed a business card. “This is my lab contact information. I am easiest to reach either here on campus or with my secretary. My other lab is ...a… well ... it is easier to reach me here. Again I can’t thank you enough, Sergeant.” “Believe me, Dr. York, it was my pleasure. I am just glad you are safe and sound.” John said. “Are you OK to go on your own or would you like me to escort you to your lab? I would be happy to do so.” “Thank you sir, but I think I’ll be fine. My lab is just over the hill in the Biological Sciences building.” Gabriel replied. “OK” John said, handing Gabriel a card of his own with his name, rank, and contact information on it. “This is my card. If you need anything or remember anything else, please do not hesitate to call me anytime, day or night.” ‘Of course. Sergeant Declann.” The Englishman arose with a friendly hand from John. Almost as an afterthought as he was leaving, York turned around. “Oh, Sergeant Declann, by the way. I do ….ah… certain work down at the Federal Center in Denver. I will have to report this incident to my superiors there and to the British consulate. In case there is testimony or something as you said. They may wish to speak with you. Just to make sure. You understand?” John nodded. Ah, he works with the feds as an international scholar of some kind, and the red tape must be dealt with. “Of course. No problem at all. I’m proximate to the Federal Center half the time anyway.” York nodded an ascent and turned again to walk away. John stood a moment watching - and admiring - Dr. York move until he was sure he was alright AND that he was moving toward the Biology building. He turned around and began to make his way back to his car. As he did, he looked down at the card: Gabriel York, MD. PhD., FACS Research Director/Professor of Medicine Advanced Bio-neurological Applications Project University of Colorado School of Medicine Hmmm, John thought. He looked a damned sight young to be in such a prestigious job, a full professor under 30 and with two doctorates at least. And a fellow of the ACS -- so why talk to the Consulate? John’s “detective sensor” started to sound off in his mind. This advanced applications thing wasn’t a program he was familiar with, but there were so many new research projects on campus these days. But, as soon as the “alert” came, he let it go. Probably a government grant given what he said about the Federal Center. John was reviewing the incident in his mind for his own after action report as he pulled onto the highway. Suddenly, there was a loud roar of a horn and air brakes. John never even saw the tractor trailer that plowed into his car, crumpling it in an instant like so much tissue paper and driving it 30 yards down the highway. *** Two Hours Later *** Trauma room one at the University of Colorado Hospital was abuzz with activity. At least a dozen doctors, nurses, and specialist technologists in yellow plastic smocks and shields hovered over a trauma bed doing a myriad of tasks to the man laying there. “What do we have?” the lead trauma surgeon said as he came into the room and took up control of the life-saving operation. On of the smocked figures raised up and stepped back, raising his shield. “John Declann, caucasian male, age 39. Boulder County Sheriff’s Deputy. MVA - car versus tractor/trailer. Passenger was in a seatbelt with airbags deployed but required extraction by fire-rescue. Initial assessment shows superficial cranial abrasions, with most likely a simple concussion. No evidence of other cranial, brain, or upper spinal injuries. Seat belt bruising pattern is highly indicative of internal organ disruption, but nothing so far on physical examination and plain films of the abdomen. Lacerated and collapsed left lung, reinflated with chest tube. Pneumothorax proximate to same lung injury also responding. Initial x-rays show compromised T-12 vertebral body and possible pelvic fracture. No apparent lower limb trauma beyond cuts and bruises from extrication from the vehicle. CT scans are coming up now for the spinal and pelvic injury areas. This was a driver’s side T-bone crash. I think that this guy’s level of fitness is why we’re talking about saving his life and not pronouncing him. ” the lead resident efficiently rattled off. The lead surgeon took a look at the patient, and agreed with the resident’s assessment. John was alive because of his trained, flexible, body and more than a little random chance. But what kind of life was it going to be? The doctor walked over to the computer terminal screens and pulled up the CT scans. The pelvis showed a simple left side Ilium fracture. Non-displaced. Something the orthopods could deal with easy enough. He then flipped to the scan of John’s spine -- and frowned. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as he looked. He sat down on a stool and zoomed, in, out, rotated, and closely examined the different views provided by the technology. The burst fracture was unmistakable and at precisely the worst spot for leg function. As he walked back to John, the doctor barked orders to the residents and nurses, while he removed an ink pen from his pocket. He ran the pen up first one foot and then the other. Goddamnit, he thought. The veteran doc’s heart sunk even more. “Get neurosurg here stat. Tell them severe impact, burst fracture at T-12, CT visualization and reflex response indicative of cord injury.” The room went silent for a moment before carrying on. It was always hard to treat an officer. Much less for this. The supervising physician turned and again just looked at the radiology. The soft tissue injuries were no walk in the park, but were easily fixable, recoverable in just a few weeks, the pelvis in a couple of months, except …. that. There was no hope for that, in his experience. This man would be paralyzed. Five minutes later the head of neurosurgery looked at the same CT scans, and came to the same conclusion. No hope. They could do an exploratory, check and see if by some miracle there was just pressure on the cord from a fragment, but not likely. Better to just do a vertebral stabilization with the orthopods, but his chances to recover function … Declann had been stabilized and was ready for transfer to have his lung laceration repaired. As he was about to be moved, another man in a white coat burst into the trauma room. One look from him toward John, and his eyes moistened. “I...I...can’t believe it.” the black haired man wept at the side of the bed. “I had to be sure.” The man almost looked skyward, “Why him?” Gabriel tenderly wiped a finger down John’s cheek. “Gabriel?” the head of neuro looked up. “What are you doing here? Do you know this man?” “This man, he saved my life this morning, not even four hours ago. Kept me from getting mugged by this man with a gun. Everyone heard the crash and when I saw that the wreckage was his car. Is he going to be OK?” Gabriel was out of breath and had obviously lost clinical detachment between the events of this morning and the shock of seeing the officer who had been so kind and patient with him lying there. He would have been removed if treatment were still going on, but it was basically complete save moving him to OR. The two attendings just nodded toward the computer screens with the radiology still on it. Gabriel walked from John’s head side, looked, and was overcome with remorse and guilt. Had he just been at his normal time, 15 minutes later, none of this would have happened. But, he just HAD to check on a minor experiment. And now, this man lay here because of him. Gabriel zoomed in to the machine’s maximum sensitivity. He looked again and again. Through a choking voice, Gabriel looked around and almost whispered. “Jack, can you send me these scans please? To my secondary lab.” The lead neurosurgeon looked horrified, searching for a reason not to. “Gabriel. You can’t be serious. You know I can’t do that. It violates protocol, federal law--” Gabriel cut him off, almost angrily “Jack you know I can take care of that with one call to Washington.” “What are you going to do?” Jack asked, never having seen such anger in the young, brilliant surgeon and scientist. “IF I can, if there is anything I can do, I am going to try and help this man.’ “You can’t have a man as a lab r--. I can’t sanc---” Jack stumbled. Gabriel stood to his full height, taking on an almost military bearing. “You know I can and will go over your head if I have to. I will have him removed if I must.” Gabriel took a breath and seemed to calm a bit. “Jack I am not promising that I can or will do anything, I do not know if there is anything to do. But I have to try. I owe it to him. He is here because of me. I have to try or I’ll never forgive myself.” Jack knew Gabriel could follow through on his threats in an instant. He had seen some small manifestations of Gabriel’s connections to political power before, and he knew that interference in hospital functions was the very least of what he could do. As much as Jack detested it, with this kind of anger Gabriel could bring down the mountain on top of his whole hospital. But, as it was, there was nothing anyone could do for Officer Declann, not even York. Jack just silently waved his fingers in a gesture of defeat, nodded an ascent, and transferred access to Gabriel as primary attending physician. “Thank you Jack. I owe you about 10 times over for this.” “I WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT,” the older surgeon replied, his voice suddenly sharpened. “And I insist on one thing. Before you present him any of those things you do that I do not have a clue about, you will at least get his consent.” Gabriel looked like he had been shot himself and his voice shook, “I would NEVER do anything to harm him.” York turned on a heel and left the room, walking out of the ER doors, and toward his car in the parking lot. As soon as he was in the vehicle with the door closed, he pulled from his pocket an encrypted cell phone with just one number it could access, locked to his fingerprint. A male voice answered in military precision, “Yes, Doctor York?” “Codeword Ariana. I want the full computer network prepped for simulator study based on some CT scans that will be coming from CU Trauma ER shortly. Run the program with emergent parameters and stand by to report when I get there. Not a proof of concept level scan, Don, but full cellular level calculations. I am leaving the hospital now. We have 24 hours at the most to complete simulations. And...ah.. Don. This is important to me, personally.” “Yes SIR,” the sharp voice on the other end said. Gabriel could not quite understand what he was feeling, this pull toward this man. He didn’t know the man existed six hours ago. Sure, there was guilt and anger and sadness. But, he just could not remove from his mind those eyes he saw this morning. Those haunted, caring brown eyes. Something about him. This John Declann. He did not know what. But he saw it in his eyes. He deserved more than this, and Gabriel would find out why. He would make it happen, he willed it to happen as he drove toward the freeway. This good man would walk again.
  4. Well here it is... the latest chapter. It's quite long, at just over 8700 words, so please enjoy, and let me know what you thought of it. It's quite a standalone chapter, but I think I pushed my creative juices further than ever. Chapters 1-5: HERE Chapter 6: HERE Chapter 7: The Junkyard At 5:17 a.m., when it seemed that all was quiet in the Fogle’s residence, the unthinkable happened. Aaron had been sleeping soundly, worn out after so much amazing sex, and wrapped up snugly in the strongest, most muscular arms. There was a loud crashing sound, a lot of disarray, splintering wood, shattering glass, fallen plaster and masonry, and buckling metal. Heavy weight sets and other training equipment — in fact everything in George’s bedroom — went crashing down into the warehouse below. Crates full of clothing merchandise absorbed much of the fall, but luckily Aaron suffered no injury whatsoever. George absorbed it all, and, of course, came out of it without a scratch. Dust hung almost statically in the air, as Drew — who’d been taking an early-morning shower at the time — bolted nakedly out of the cubicle in response to the startling and near-deafening racket. George’s bedroom — along with all of its contents — was no more; just a huge mess below. George came awake with a start and his first instinct was to make sure his little Aaron was okay. “I’m fine, George. But your room is history,” said Aaron, as his huge boyfriend carried him free of the rubble and outside to where the air was fresh and clean. It was just getting bright, but the warehouse street district was pretty much deserted; not even traffic was about yet. At least George’s nakedness and massive size wouldn’t be causing any early-morning car crashes. Drew joined them outside. He’d had time to put a bath-towel around his waist, although, why he bothered to do so made little sense. These men were beautiful and kind Narcissists; so amazing to look at, that it was an affront to Nature itself to see them clothed. Drew’s eyes nearly came out on stalks when he saw the size of his son. The damage to their home seemed unimportant for the moment. “It’s my fault, Dad. I grew so much last night. The floor couldn’t handle the extra weight.” George lowered his head in shame so that his chin pressed into the enormity of his upper pec-masses. “I’m his muscle muse, so this was to be expected. It’s my fault really,” said Aaron somewhat insistently. It didn’t occur to Aaron that his boss was seeing him naked. But all three were comfortable in their respective skins. “No one is to blame. We all want you to get huge, son. But, Aaron, you seem to be George’s best growth-trigger yet,” said Drew reassuringly. His son now towered over him; he had to be at least 7’ 5”. His weight in pounds couldn’t be gauged at this time, but if Drew were to hazard a guess, the number 1200+ seemed fitting. His ruefulness quickly brushed aside, George puffed himself up hugely and flexed for all present to see. His body was simply muscle personified; anatomically exaggerated with emphasis on beauty, strength and utter masculinity. Despite this, George wasn’t without his signature boyish charm that belied an innocence and wonder with regard to his ability to bodybuild without exerting any real effort. Aaron came out in an erection instantly, and even Drew had to concentrate on not getting aroused. That wouldn’t be ethical, and so far his role as a father hadn’t compromised this; nor would it ever. George crunched and leaned into a most muscular pose and his muscle gorged on all the freedom they had to engulf free space with their sheer volume. He squeezed and growled and wobbled his left upper thigh muscles ahead of the right leg, before snapping them into monstrous, diamond-hard relief. He made a sort of ‘mashed potato’ movement with his balled fists, which helped more blood to go to his biceps and forearms. He stuck out his tongue and squeezed his traps and neck muscles. Every muscle in his body obeyed his commands and bulged more and more. His size was phenomenal. Just when you thought he couldn’t blast out any more muscle, more arrived to put down permanent roots. New muscle fought muscle already present on his mammoth frame. To think, his muscles had to fight with one another simply to find room to exist. This jostling and pushing against one muscle with another made all of them bulge beyond reason. “Careful, son, you’ll have one fucker of a growth spurt if you’re not careful,” Drew advised. It continued to get brighter. A bloke on a moped chugged past, and his eyes formed the ‘deer caught in headlights’ look when so much exaggerated muscle scorched into his retinas. He almost steered the bike off the road and into a lamppost. “Sorry, guy. My son is a freakishly huge muscle monster, and he’s getting even bigger. Sorry about all the muscle and the nakedness,” Drew cried over to the unfortunate guy, who, luckily didn’t hurt himself and then biked on his way to wherever it was he was going (probably to a therapist after what he just saw). “We need to get off the street, guys. And George — son of my loins — we need to get abreast of what’s happened, and how to rectify it,” Drew advised. His towel-tent sprung off when his dick came up to full mast. Bashfully expressive, he hoped George didn’t get the wrong impression. Back in the kitchen, Aaron helped Drew to prepare breakfast for three; but mostly for George, whose appetite would clean them out of household provisions. “You’ll have to stay on ground level, George,” Drew advised. “The floor won’t take your weight. I’ll have to get the insurance company onto this. Are we even covered for this kind of residential damage?” His voice trailed off and he lost himself to thoughts of careful financial planning. Luckily things played out well enough. The Junkyard was only a ten minute walk away (far less if a super-powered bodybuilder happens to travel in superhuman leaps and bounds). It currently served as George’s personal gym, but it had a small staff of its own who lived on-site because they excelled in the engineering and mechanical arts and were employed by Drew to build and maintain the special equipment George needed to work-out his enormous muscles. Drew rang ahead and instructed the staff to set up temporary living quarters for George and Aaron, and also to ensure that all their needs were met. In the interim, Drew, hopefully, could sort out the damage to the loft and warehouse and not have to delay the grand opening of International Dude, which was just five days away. Once breakfast was out of the way, George felt energised. He felt like growing huge today, but still felt bad about causing so much damage. “Will you stop feeling that you are to blame for this?! I already told you I’m okay with this, son of mine. Now off you go to the Junkyard. If you go now, and take big leaps with Aaron, your nakedness won’t cause any accidents or mass faintings on the way. When I’ve got down here cleared out, I’ll send over some clothes for you both.” Drew was a great father. He was so understanding and easy to get along with. He loved his son so much, and loved, also, that he had found the right person with whom to share his life and love of bodybuilding/muscle-growth. “Okay dad. I love you,” and then to Aaron: “Time for us to fly. Here, leap into my huge muscular arms, and I’ll protect you as I carry you across town, little Aaron, my gorgeous muse.” George took Aaron onto his body; the little dude felt so light in his arms, and the extra girth and inches gained in body mass and height — thanks to last night’s sexy bedroom antics between the young lovers — made Aaron look child-sized next to him. “I’m like an action figure compared to you,” said Aaron as George began to lope down the street, building momentum prior to leaping. “Nah, you’re not like that at all. You’re exaggerating, darling. I’m about two feet taller than you are now, yes. But when I think about what you can now do with your dick thanks to the dew… wow… I felt tiny last night when you fucked the crap out of me,” said George with sweetness and sincerity. “Don’t you ever worry about becoming so huge that the media will turn against you and send the army after you, sinister stuff like that?” Why Aaron even broached this subject was beyond George. The massive bodybuilder leaped into the air and soared to 100 feet vertically before settling into a downward arc that would bring him to the roof of The Pulled Plum restaurant. He landed less than softly, but managed to spread his weight. A little plaster might loosen from the ceiling within, but nothing major. After his cement-shattering alarm call earlier that morning, the last thing he needed was to cause more damage to structures. “Well, if I start to turn green and throw tanks thousands of feet across the desert, then I guess I should worry. I’d really be a fugitive, then.” George grinned smugly. “Stop joking about it, George. I don’t want things to turn bad for us. We’re just beginning our lives together.” “And we’re gonna have amazing lives — you and me as one — completing each other, and… whew… the sex we’re gonna have…” George trailed off, not needing to finish that sentence. He grew an enormous boner, which Aaron was only too willing to kiss. He kissed and fondled it for over a minute. Both of them began to get very turned on. “No, not here, on the roof of Brett Hillard’s restaurant. This place reeks of his arrogance. The Junkyard is my domain. Another leap should get us there.” “Wait… before we go… doesn’t that guy Brett ever bother you at the Junkyard?” “Not so far. But I’m way bigger now. He’ll start to get wind of me eventually, provided he can be bothered to climb out of his own arse.” George swelled up to full height and buffness, then scooped his gorgeous, naked little boyfriend into his arms before leaping the rest of the distance to the strangest gymnasium around. He landed with a hefty THUMP! Clouds of dust were thrown into the air. Aaron coughed a little, and George hugged him tight and kissed him, then apologizing for the dust caused by his landing. Les, Arturo, and Fat Mick were there to tend to his every need. “Hey guys,” George said simply. All three men couldn’t believe how huge the bodybuilder had become, and in such a short space of time. George went on to introduce each of them to his boyfriend. “Guys this is Aaron. He just started working at the store. We also fell in love in a whirlwind. But that’s not a bad thing, right? My dad married my mother in Vegas after knowing her for all of five minutes. They stuck together for seven years, before she went lesbian and dad decided to stick to fucking guys. I turned out pretty well, right? So Aaron and me are in it for life. Pretty sure of that,” said George by way of needless exposition. “You don’t need to explain yourself, George… you massively-muscled hunk of hugeness,” said Les. He was an engineer by trade, and, like the others, was as gay as Christmas at RuPaul’s house. He extended a warm handshake to Aaron. “I’m Les… Les Fogle,” he said. “You’re related to George and his dad?” Aaron failed to see the likeness. “Uh-huh. Not by blood, though. I wish I had their blood running through my veins. Everytime I see this big galoot, he’s bigger than before,” said Les, quite a plain-looking fellow. He playfully whacked George on his massive forearm. Then he winced when he felt like he’d just slapped a concrete wall. “His mother married my uncle when Les was three. Uncle Pearce adopted him. We Fogles are good people,” George explained. Then Arturo introduced himself: “Hi Aaron, nice to meet you,” said the tall, slim latino. He wasn’t bad-looking, and looked harder and more streetwise than he actually was, given he had a degree in mechanical engineering. Perhaps he just acted hard to look hard. Who could say? Fat Mick was something of an unforgettable sight in his own right. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, like George, however, he was hugely overweight, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He wore nothing but a tank-top and jogger pants cut at the knees, but the top came nowhere near to covering his gigantic stomach. He was the youngest of the three, and the manager of the Junkyard. Les and Arturo’s expertises lay in building and maintaining the special equipment George needed to get the best pumps from his workouts. “Nice to meet you all,” said Aaron, no longer ashamed to be naked. In fact… “Hey guys, watch this,” said George, excitedly. He concentrated and caused viscous dew to run from his nipples. Aaron caught on immediately, and his newfound confidence bolstered much vigour from him. “Take of my teats, little Aaron,” George arousedly instructed his boyfriend. Les, Arturo and Fat Mick watched with bated breath. “Here? Now? In front of guys I just met?” Aaron was already erect, and although confident, he felt there was a time and a place for everything. “Why not? It’s a neat trick, right? Come on, sweetie… take some dew and grow for the guys. Besides, I’ve got a little surprise for you; well, maybe not so little.” The mischief in George’s eyes glinted like sunlight dancing across a seemingly-still lake. Now Aaron was curious. He wanted to know what this ‘little surprise’ consisted of. George was now so huge, that nothing he ever did now and in the future could be considered ‘little’. He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to receive the first few droplets of sweet dew. And just like the night before, Aaron’s already impressively-sized junk exploded with girth, length, and volume. “Holy crap,” said Fat Mick, between bites of a burger he just happened to be holding. “Jeezus,” said Les and Arturo in unison. “Yeah isn’t it cool, you guys? My boyfriend’s dick is now twenty inches long, thanks to my amazing ‘pectoral punch’. He fucked the bollocks out of me last night. And to think, I’m a massive bodybuilder and got fucked raw by my gorgeous twink boyfriend.” George flexed his muscles hugely. Then his cock sprang upward and outward. Then, just for fun, the lovers began to play at fencing using their huge nobs as appropriate weaponry. When that was over, things got serious. “Right guys, how are things with the machinery?” George was anxious to try out his even bigger muscles and greater strength. He planned to leave here later feeling pumped and looking bigger than ever. “Well-maintained and calibrated, although you put the squat rack through the shit the other day when you overloaded the forklifts,” Arturo explained with little enthusiasm. “Forklifts?” Aaron looked perplexed. He knew enough from watching bodybuilding videos online that forklift trucks had nothing to do with squatting down and then pressing a barbell upwards over and over. George explained: “I’m too strong to use regular weights now. That’d be like a regular bodybuilder trying to grow using toothpicks with cheese cubes on each end. Arturo and Les do great work here with their design implementations. Forklifts on each side of specially reinforced bars, and each forklift can be loaded up with about two tonnes of weight.” “So where is all this special equipment?” Aaron’s dick began to return to its normal size when the effects of the dew wore off. Now that the dust had literally and figuratively settled, he was able to take in his surroundings at a glance. It was a junkyard, nothing more. High wrought-iron fencing surrounded an open area filled with row after row of old rusty cars, buses, farmyard equipment — even the broken fuselages of small planes — stacked one on top of the other. Some looked haphazardly placed and capable of toppling over at any moment. There was every make of vehicle here; of variegated hues long since faded and claimed by decay. Towering over everything was a crane with an attached magnet used to lift and move the car wrecks into position. There was also the obligatory compactor, used to turn old wrecks into serviceable cubes for metallic recycling. There were some cargo containers nearby, alongside two portacabins — the brains of the operation — and this was where Les, Arturo and Fat Mick spent much of their time. In the case of Fat Mick, he almost never walked about too much. He was 900 lbs of blubber, but he seemed happy enough. “We’ll show you shortly, sweetie. But first, you should head to the office. The guys have digs here. They’ll adapt them to our needs. But I want you to put something on for me… and also to phone your mother from the office phone. She might be worried about you,” said George. He was most considerate of his boyfriend’s needs and feelings. “Fuck, I’ve not thought about Ma since last night.” It was like the last couple of days had been a dream; anything outside of that dream no longer mattered. They headed for the office. The portacabin was big but cluttered. Three desks, each one with laptops, phones and various junk scattered across them made up the majority of features. There was shelving full of Lever Arch files along one wall, and a four-seater couch, water cooler and fridge full of beer and snacks (for Fat Mick) along another. The interior smelt of oil, sweat, and old cheese. Overhead fans provided adequate air conditioning, but there was also a wall-mounted unit, which wasn’t running at present. The doorway was large enough for a muscle-giant to enter. There was a door opposite to an adjoining portacabin and this was where the guys would work to adapt temporary living space for George and Aaron. “Now… take this,” said George to his boyfriend, tossing a very large jockstrap Aaron’s way. Aaron caught it. It smelt of George. He inhaled deeply, which caused another ten-inch boner to sprout upward. Fat Mick collapsed onto the sofa, which had been reinforced with concrete bricks, since he’d broken it several times. The hugely fat man took up the entire four places on the sofa. He reached under a fold of fat on his side and pulled out a large, cooked chicken leg, which he began stripping to the bone. Arturo instantly got hard. George explained to Aaron that Arturo and Fat Mick were a couple; one a superchub and the other a chaser. “Not all guys are into muscle, Aaron,” Arturo elaborated with a proud wink. “I like muscle, though,” said Les, forever wishing he had his step-cousin’s genetics. “Put on the jockstrap, darling,” George said, eagerly. He was already leaking more dew from his hugely overgrown nip-nubs. “Oh I get it. This is one of your old ones, yes? Prior to your last growth-spurt? You want me to wear it, because it won’t fit you anymore, but after I partake once again of your dew, I’ll explode into it and sport a massive fucking jock bulge?” Aaron’s excitement was almost palpable. “Yeah that’s it, little Aaron, dude. I know seeing you in EBFs makes me explode with size, but I think watching you strut about with a dew-grown hardon in one of my smelly old jockstraps — whilst I chug down a gallon of pre-workout shake — will really make me blow-up with even more muscle,” growled George. Les interjected: “Hold on, big guy. Getting back to the forklifts on the squat rack; you blew the hydraulics on one of them and cracked the mast assembly on the other. I only had four hours sleep last night ‘cos I had to drive to Aruga to get replacements. And then I had to get my brother Rulio to help me with the refits. They won’t take another beating, so go easy, eh?” “Heh heh, we didn’t get much sleep last night either, wink wink,” jested George, nodding his handsome head in Aaron’s direction. Aaron was wearing the jockstrap now, but he was lost in it. “Are you even listening to me, esé?” Arturo was annoyed now (he only ever called people ‘esé’ when he was annoyed with them, regardless of their ethnicity). George didn’t like to see any member of his ‘crew’ looking unhappy. It wasn’t his goal in life to upset people or make extra unnecessary work for them. “So basically what you’re saying is… I’m out-muscling the equipment faster than you can repair or upgrade it? Hmmm.” He grew quiet, somber in thought. “In short, yes. So maybe lay off the bench press, squat rack, leg press machines, but you should be fine on the cable array for bicep curls, tris, crossovers etcetera. You could even throw some shit together on the fly, just until I can reinforce the machines and get in enough replacement parts should you cause further breakages. Your dad mightn’t be okay with me asking for extensions to the budget. We’re barely turning a profit here running this place as a legitimate business whilst you use it as a playground for bodybuilding.” His face changed from pensive to apologetic. Despite that George was such a pleasant-natured and happy-go-lucky young man, Arturo didn’t want to bring out the inner beast of an already massively gigantic muscle-god. “I’m sorry for the hassle, Arturo. Truly. I’m just so eager to test my new strength, and get really pumped, is all,” said George. He looked a little upset. Aaron came over to him, holding a paper cup in one hand, and using the other hand to hold up the massively accommodating jockstrap he was trying to wear with pride. “Cheer up, my big loving muscle guy,” said Aaron, collecting into the cup the precious dick and balls elixir from George’s nuzzle-nubs. He went on: “I’ll drink this after I phone Ma. Didn’t you say you can weigh yourself here? Maybe do that first, then have your shake, and you can show me some feats of strength.” “Yeah, but don’t fucking break anything,” Fat Mick said as he spawled like a beached whale on the sofa whilst feeling beneath himself for a pizza slice he knew was there from the day before. Arturo produced a large bottle of moisturising lotion to keep his boyfriend’s fat folds from chafing. George decided he would enjoy knowing how much he weighed, so he muscle-waddled out of the office and outside and around to the weighing machine. It was adapted from a salvaged scale bought from a truck haulage company that went bust in the recession. George could stand on it and get an accurate weight. When he did, he jizzed with delight. But he caught as much of the spunk as he could; why waste free protein? The scale readout said: “1374”. He was even heavier than his dad thought upon seeing him earlier that morning. No wonder the floor of his bedroom collapsed. “That’s crazy,” he exclaimed gleefully. He decided it was too uneven a number to weigh, and so he resolved to get to at least 1400 before teatime. In the meantime Aaron appeared, having made his way out of the office and around to where the scale was. Aaron had once again imbibed his boyfriend’s dew and his boner and balls completely filled out the jockstrap. They looked absurdly huge, but George loved the way they bobbed to and fro when he walked. “Hey honey, how’s your mother?” “She’s okay. I filled her in on everything that’s happened since I met you,” George lovingly replied. “Did you tell her I’m a huge bodybuilder? Wait — scratch that — did you tell her I’m a GIGANTIC bodybuilder? Grrrrrrrr!” He made a playful most muscular, squeezing more power and gravity into his muscles. They bulged and popped crazily. “Errr… I think we’ll have to prepare her for that. Get her full of gin or something before you two meet. Anything to lessen the shock she’ll get when she sees you for the first time.” “Yeah, you’re probably right. No telling how much huger I’ll be before I get to meet my mother-in-law.” George popped a single biceps, causing a massive dome-capped column of super-hard, vein-popping muscle to erupt from his arm. The peak of the bicep cast a shadow over his fist as it rode higher and higher each time he flexed. Delighted by this, his dick pulsed huger and harder. He had to stroke it and caress it to help it grow. He had an idea to show off to his beautiful monstrously-hung twink boyfriend, seeing as he was forbidden to use most of the machines until Arturo and Les could galvanise them against his sheer brute strength. Aaron positively beamed with delight when George referred to Ma as ‘mother-in-law’. “Hey honey, grab that yardstick over there. I want you to measure my dick. It’s way bigger than yesterday,” George instructed. Aaron couldn’t wait to comply. George was getting more bossy and insistent as he got bigger, but it was in good nature, and nothing arrogantly put. Aaron carefully placed the measuring stick next to his beloved muscle-god’s huge, erect phallus. From end to end the yardstick was just slightly longer than the dick. “Wow… almost three feet long, George. No way that’s ever going up my arse,” wept Aaron, and he felt a mixture of sadness, amusement, and unbridled horniness. It was a strange mix of emotions, fraught with the knowledge that he would never feel his boyfriend’s dick inside him. “Why should it when I’m your eternal bottom bitch? I want your massive shlong skewering the fuck out of my bodybuilder bubble butt once I’m done with showing off my incredible strength. I’m gonna be bigger and stronger an hour or so from now. Then you’re going to run me through with your passion pole.” George’s determination to grow and get stronger for his boyfriend was contagious. Aaron’s dick and balls grew tighter, stretching the lycra jockstrap thinner. “Fuck yeah, honey. Then you’d better start hefting some weight. But try to respect the guys here and not break anything.” “Yeah, you’re right, big dicked Aaron, sweetie. Oh I love you so much. I shouldn’t make things difficult for the guys, even if Fat Mick sits and eats most of the time. But we go back a long ways, since we were kids. And Les is family.” “Your dick looks like it could be as thick as mine is long. For your first show of strength, I think you should show me what your dick can do, apart from showering me in your superman-spunk. Maybe we can find something around the Junkyard to thread onto your dick,” Aaron suggested. He looked all about. There were a trio of iron girders leaning against part of the perimeter fence. They didn’t seem to be up to much. “How much do you think one of them weighs,” Aaron asked musingly. “That’s easy… about 650 each. They’re about eight inches thick,” George excitedly replied. He heaved and hulked up his muscle tits just for fun. They completely took up his lower peripheral vision; a sea of pectorals which showed no signs of calming. His nips oozed dew which hung ropily beyond his ten-pack abs, whilst precum squirted from his upwardly-curved monstrous erection and coated every inch of the bulbous head and veiny shaft. His feet and thighs were sodden with it. Just for fun he rubbed much of his fluids into the parts of him he could still reach. He reeked of massive manly muscle-development. And he was still developing. He was living, breathing muscle-sex. “Think you can bend them into cock rings?” Aaron wiggled his eyebrows expectantly whilst licking his lips. His twenty-incher remained as rigid as ever. He drank more dew and licked precum off his boyfriend’s muscles in order to maintain his miraculous erection. “Fuck yeah. Eight inches thick each, about six feet in length. I know what to rework them into, and it’ll weigh almost a tonne. On my dick. On my monstrous bodybuilder’s muscle dick.” George first collected enough precum and dew to fill a five gallon bucket. He drank it like a muscle-shake and then gave some to Aaron, not to drink but to coat himself with. “I like how my musky smell mixes with yours, and it’s the best cologne a guy can wear. Now let me pick you up so I can kiss the man I love and lick my juice right out of your hole.” Aaron couldn’t wait to oblige. George picked him up and kissed him long and hard; their tongues played with and explored each other’s oral cavities. Then George flipped him around and thrust his tongue deep into Aaron’s delicious hole. “Oh man, that feels… gasp… incredible!” Aaron was almost tripping with rapturous bliss. “This is just to energise me… not that I need it. But it’s fun, and I love you, darling.” “Hmm… tastes nice, but I need to swallow your come,” insisted George, flipping Aaron around again so that he could start sucking him off. He loved the feeling of his tiny boyfriend’s gigantic cock completely stuffing his mouth and causing the gag reflex to fire at the back of his throat. He sucked and sucked, whilst weightless Aaron bucked and convulsed in his loving grasp. Aaron threw his head back and shrieked with bliss. He’d only come inside his enormous man just a few short hours ago, but be damned if George Fogle couldn’t get his fella to come on command. “Fill me...gulp… with your fuck juice...glub...glarrrgggg…” Aaron shot into George’s mouth, projecting jets of salty cream down his throat. George drank hungrily, for he could never get enough of Aaron’s spunk, and he planned to drink hundreds of liters of it, if not thousands, across future time. Dew now squirted from his muscle-nubs with reckless abandon, and precum poured out of his dick, completely soaking the ground where he stood. No one cared about the mess. It took all of three minutes for Aaron to completely drain his melon-sized gonads of their seed. He expected a massive muscle-growth spurt from George, however, he still looked the same. But he didn’t feel the same. “I feel stronger, sweetie. I’ll make those girders twist like tinfoil,” George vowed. He muscle-strutted over to the girders and picked up the first one like it weighed no more than a paper straw. “So fuckin’ strong,” he boasted, trying not to sound at all like Brett Hillard. The metal groaned with fatigue and was soon hot in George’s grasp. The gigantic bodybuilder’s hands gripped it so hard that his fingers sank into the iron as though it were putty. “This is too easy.” He kneaded and reshaped the metal until he could easily coil it around his schlong. It was hot, but not enough to burn. He repeated these actions two more times until a metal coil made of reworked iron encapsulated the shaft of his penis, leaving free only a huge purple bulb glistening with precum. “Hardest part of that was doing it by touch alone, ‘cos my massive muscle-tits block my view. Almost a tonne of iron surrounding my dick, and still you can see the head. Plus it weighs like fucking nothing at all. Wow. Check this out,” said George. And he flexed and tensed his body so much, his muscles bulged with even more insane size and power. He growled and screamed as he heaved out a skin-tightening most muscular pose that created never-before-seen vascularity from a bodybuilder. “I AM A BODYBUILDER!!!! I AM A FUCKING BODYBUILDER WITH A FUCKING TONNE OF IRON ON HIS FUCKING MONSTER DICK!!! NOW WATCH THIS BODYBUILDER’S MONSTER DICK BLAST FREE OF ITS IRON SHACKLES!!!!!!” The Junkyard trembled from the sound of George’s mighty roar. Les and Arturo came rushing out — with Fat Mick waddling and panting in third place — to see what all the commotion was about. They arrived just in time to see the biggest bodybuilder they’d ever seen destroy almost one tonne of iron with only his dick. Sheer concentration of will caused sweat to bead on his forehead and drip down from his temples. Veins popped out all over him and some minor blood vessels actually burst from his arms and neck, creating blisters of blood beneath the skin. He gritted his teeth and tried not to swallow his tongue and he concentrated every last iota of strength he had into one area of his body. George’s dick was getting bigger; thicker and longer. It’s iron prison could only hold it for so long, but it was losing the fight. George was getting stronger… much stronger. He was obsessed with the feeling. The iron softened as it heated up, groaning with more and more metal fatigue as incredible pressure from within the coils forced them to deform and reshape. Seconds later metal was blasted in all directions; luckily missing everyone that wasn’t superpowered. George’s dick had not only supported colossal weight on its own, but it made a tonne of metal behave like confetti. George was on a roll. He spied a stack of gigantic tyres next to the magnetic crane. “Where’d they come from,” he growled. “Oh those… they’re not for vehicular use. Used for promotional purposes for auto shows. Can’t remember how or why they ended up here,” Fat Mick explained. It had been ten minutes since his last meal. Fortunately his boyfriend Arturo was on hand to top him up with a milkshake made of melted Mars bars, full fat cream and marshmallows. “How heavy are they?” George snorted with anticipation. His muscles heaved. They wanted to grow and get stronger, as if they needed his permission to do so. “I’d say about 500 or so. Can’t really be sure,” said Fat Mick, chugging down the shake for fear he’d become skin and bone if he didn’t constantly feed. “And the inner area diameter? How much is that?” “Erm… about six feet? Maybe a little more.” “Okay. Now watch this,” said George, and he stomped over to the tyres. He lifted the first one up effortlessly, but it was a struggle to get it over his head because he was now made up of just so much muscle; it was like how regular bodybuilders can sometimes struggle getting in and out of tight muscle shirts. His ‘entourage’ watched on, open-mouthed and mentally ‘Oohing’ with wonder. “Won’t let me near the machines, eh Les and Arturo?” George growled as he maneuvered the tyre so that its inner circumference now snugly clung around his upper body. He was now inside the tyre, but not for long. “Don’t want me breaking anything, eh Fat Mick?” George began to apply a little strain to the encapsulating mass of circular rubber set in a reinforcing mesh of steel. The fat man stopped chewing on the corndog he was eating after downing his milkshake. George had his undivided attention. He was speechless. “Well you’re already down three girders. Now watch this!” George flexed his upper body so that it began to swell. He barked commands to every last one of his muscle fibers to stand up and be counted. He mentally pictured each muscle fiber growing its own set of genitalia and using them to fuck the fiber next to it, resulting in the two splitting apart and producing ‘offspring’. His fibers procreated at an alarming rate in his mind; and in so visualizing this, the muscle tissue of his body responded with interest. He grew too big for the tyre. The tyre began to scream in defiance of this most unsavoury of invasions. 500 lbs of rubber and steel were blasted apart as George Fogle went from insanely huge bodybuilder to… utterly fucking G-I-N-O-R-M-O-U-S!!!!!! His arms shot up into a massive double biceps as new size made his head look like a softball next to medicine ball-sized globular masses infused with flesh and skin-splitting veins and striations. His lats widened and gained more mass than ever, effectively becoming twice as wide and space-guzzling as before. If one tyre couldn’t contain his might, what if he tried it again with three? “The rest of the tyres; they’re lined with steel, right?” “Yuh-yeah,” said Arturo, completely blown away by George’s further increase in size. Arturo normally went for superchubs, but his suddenly erect dick couldn’t help but make allowances for the muscle giant. “Then get up into the crane and crank it up. Use the magnet to pick up the rest of those fucking huge tyres and drop them over me one by one. I don’t even know if they’ll fit over me, now… but we’ll see...GRRRRRR!!!” The beast had emerged from within George. Should Aaron be scared? Right now all he felt was undiluted primal arousal. He didn’t want the feeling to end. This time the effects of dew seemed to last longer, and his twenty-incher was still proudly flying at full mast, filling out a jockstrap sodden with pungent precum. Arturo wasted no time climbing up and into the crane. Within moments he was swinging the mighty magnet towards the tyres, pleased when the first one connected with the magnet flat-side. George — his arms as close to his sides was his massively bloated lats would permit — stood rigidly below the payload. When Arturo was happy he’d aligned the tyre perfectly with the muscle-god, he deactivated the magnetic pull, and gravity took the tyre briefly in its less than tender caress. The tyre dropped squarely (or rather roundly) down and around George, but it became wedged at chest level. “How come it fits like the last one? I’m bigger now. What gives?” “I think the tyres aren’t all the same size. Different promotions equal different sizes. That one looks bigger and heavier than the last one,” said Fat Mick through trembling lips of absolute blubber. The massively obese manager wasn’t sure if the tyres were of different girths and weights; he simply said that in the hope it would stop George from totally losing his temper and turning to the ‘dark side’ forever. Everyone present were getting scared of how suddenly demanding the giant bodybuilder had become. Even Aaron was a little taken aback by his boyfriend’s sudden and uncharacteristic burst of arrogance. He just about managed to maintain his enormous stiffy. George seemed satisfied. He used dew from his nipples to create a lube, of sorts, which helped him to work the tyre further down. It was a tight squeeze but he just about managed to get it down to his waist, his balled fists now wedged in tightly, too. “Drop the next tyre,” he commanded Arturo who wasted no time getting the crane’s magnet to pick up another tyre. This went on one more time until the giant bodybuilder was completely encased in a stack of enormous tyres. For exactly three minutes, thirty-six seconds, nothing happened. There wasn’t a peep from George. “Maybe he can’t breathe in there,” Les worriedly whispered to Fat Mick. Arturo was now out of the crane and back with his workmates and boyfriend. “Guys… shouldn’t we have come up with a safe word or something?” Aaron was visibly worried. His dew hardon was wearing off and his jock looked like a hot air balloon slowly deflating and losing volume. Then he cried out to his tyre-cocooned boyfriend. “George… are you… okay?” Silence answered his inquiry. Another minute passed. The ground began to tremble, beginning as a low rumble, but it soon gained intensity until it seemed like an earthquake was about to happen. “Shit… we need to get out of here… NOW!” Arturo was the first out of there, suddenly forgetting he had a super-fat boyfriend who would struggle to make fast an escape. Les was also fleeing, as self-preservation became the order of the day. Only Aaron remained, concerned for his monstrously huge boyfriend. They’d only known each other a couple of days, but it felt so much longer, and they’d shared every part of themselves in every way so far conceivable by them, but in the shortest of times. Wasn’t that in itself a definition of true love? Or was a fleeting dream about to become a lingering nightmare? Maybe it was a trick of the light, or something brought on by the delirium of rising panic; but it seemed to Aaron that the tyre cocoon was re-shaping itself; becoming more… man-like? The more Aaron stared, the more it seemed like tremendos energies from within were not only stretching the tyres, but also softening the rubber and steel mesh. His nostrils could definitely smell rubber in the air; not burning intensity, but definitely recognizable as building to such. George was growing bigger and stronger, and his rubber prison couldn’t contain such might. With his mightiest roar yet, he tore apart the tyres using the power of flexing alone. And when he emerged… “OHMYGOD!!!!” Aaron wailed, his hardon returning as dew and spunk and rage and lust for muscle-growth squirted forth, seemingly from every orifice and pore on George’s phenomenal anatomy. It rained down on Aaron and he lapped up as much as he could; he bathed in it and revelled in its lust-engorging properties. His cock and balls exploded with even greater size and weight and the sodden jockstrap flew apart when his most monstrous dick yet demanded freedom. “Aw fuck…. I’M FUCKING HUGE. LOOK AT THE SIZE OF ME, LITTLE AARON, DUDE. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!” George hulked and flexed and squeezed more size and power from his muscles. He grew heavier, taller, wider… ultimately larger in every way. And the spunk that gushed from his dick slit seemed without end. Likewise Aaron gushed, and their fluids met and pooled. The massive George threw himself upon the pool and when he hit the ground, the impact caused a mini-earthquake. Stacks of mummified vehicles toppled to the ground and the great magnet-wielding crane arm groaned and buckled out of shape before collapsing like a felled mythical beast. Parked cars outside of the Junkyard let wail with their alarms in a caterwaul chorus of discord, and fire hydrants erupted into geysers. “That’s it. He’s out of control. I’m calling his father,” said Fat Mick when he’d puffed and panted his way back to the untidy office. It was impressive that he was still able to get about at 900 pounds, for now anyway. Arturo stopped him mid-dial. “And what can Drew do next to… to… that?” Arturo shakily pointed a finger back in the direction of George the ever-increasing giant. “Yeah, we need to do this properly, and now… before he goes all Cloverfield on our asses,” Les said, family loyalty now replaced by an unsettling feeling of dread rising up from within. “Wait… he’s on a muscle-rush right now. Forget the machines we made for him. He’s way beyond what we’ll ever be able to create for him mechanically,” said Arturo. He pressed his own head for a solution. Then it came to him. “We get him into the compactor. Trick him into using it to get the ultimate muscle pump. That thing can generate over 150 tonnes of pressure. There’s no way George — even at the size he is now — is resisting that.” “Wait… hold on… you’re suggesting we… end his ass?” It wasn’t that long ago since little Les would have sleepovers at his step-cousin’s house and tell ghost stories under the covers (later looking at gay porn magazines George would swipe from his father’s study). Now he was becoming a major participant in ‘giganticide’. “He’s out of control. If he leaves this place he could go on the rampage and people might get hurt. We have no choice. Besides, he’s not even human anymore, I don’t think.” Arturo’s mind was made up. Fat Mick nodded his consent, and Les, deflated, was also in. “Les go outside and encourage George to step into the compactor. The Incredible Hulk did it in the TV show in the 70s. Tell him we modified it to take the place of some of the machines. He can do squats in it. He’ll push against it, and it’ll seem like he’s resisting, but we’ll be operating it remotely from in here, where we’re relatively safe. He won’t be able to fight it at full power. Then it’ll be over.” George completely fell for it. Hungry with muscle-lust he wanted to feel the ultimate pump, but so far tyres and girders just didn’t do it for him. “So if you just step into the compactor over there, Cuz, we’ll give you a pump you’ll never forget,” Les outlined to the giant. Aaron exchanged troubled glances between George and Les. Something didn’t feel right. “Great… sounds like a plan, little Les. Wow you two are so small to me, now. Aaron, will your even bigger super-sized dick be able to do it for me now? Look at the size of me. I could crush that Hillard freak like a bug.” Aaron didn’t like what the Junkyard had made George become. The day wasn’t supposed to go like this. George had changed, not just physically; but his complete persona had been altered. But he happily ‘earthquaked’ his way over and into the capacious compacting machine designed to turn trucks into Rubik Cubes. “Pure Hulk power!” George gruffly declared as he positioned himself on the bed of the compactor and pressed his huge palms against the overhead crushing plate. The distance between the bed and the crushing plate was about ten feet. “Feels a little snug in here, but I’m a growing boy, heh heh!” Les signalled back to the office so that Arturo could fire up the machine. Aaron watched, his face ashen, too terrified to move or even to speak. The machine whined into hydraulic life and George began to apply pressure as powerful oil-filled mechanisms came into play and began to exert conflicting force. Metal and muscle collided in trauma and scorn, neither one gaining over the other, at first. “Increase the pressure twenty-five percent,” Fat Mick said to Arturo. The compactor roared more powerfully, squealing and grinding, and pushing greater and greater downward force. George pushed upward, his body bulging with more and more muscle as he transformed into an even huger bodybuilding leviathan strong enough to bring down Mount Olympus with his bare hands. So if he could do that to a fabled mountain paradise worthy only of gods, then what could he do to a commonplace car crusher? The answer was an easy one… HE ANNIHILATED IT! “I’m getting…. HUGE! GROWING BIGGER AND BIGGER. METAL NO MATCH FOR MUSCLES!!!” He really had become a Hulk now, one of the most monstrous of Hulks. Aaron felt like he was shrinking before the spectacle of seeing his boyfriend transform into the biggest, strongest, most muscular entity on the planet. “Increase pressure to fifty-eight percent,” Fat Mick frantically insisted. Metal screamed against the onslaught of muscle it fought to contain. Sweat, spunk, tears, and dew all gushed from the George Hulk at once. Would dehydration cause him to buckle and wane beneath the awesome forces that fought so steadfastly and without will of their own to crush the life out of a man who had now become lost in a vast rolling ocean created by his own ever-growing muscle-bod? Tiny Aaron Cruikshank now felt ashamed of his nakedness as he stood inside the dropped soiled remnants of a jockstrap which no longer fitted. To add to the soil and ruin, fresh urine — induced by fright — ran down his leg and steamed languidly at his feet. Tears rolled down his face as he watched the man he loved — no, thought he loved — transform into a bigger and bigger mass of muscle exaggerated beyond belief as his increasing strength began to make mincemeat of the crusher intended to be his tomb. “Give it full throttle. He’s resisting, Arturo. It’s all or nothing. Overload the fucking thing if you have to,” a much panicked Fat Mick squealed. “He’s too strong. Jeezus… he’s growing even bigger. We’re fucked. We’re all fucking dead!” Arturo also wet himself. It was over. Back outside, the compactor gave up its ghost and came apart in a dramatic outburst of fatigued metal, scorching entrails and smoking disarray. George wrecked it as though it were tissue paper. He stepped out of the tangled remains and stared down at the tiny speck that Aaron now seemed to him. His minute boyfriend barely drew level with his kneecap. It was difficult to make him out because he had to stand far enough away for his view not to be obscured by his monstrous pecs. George said nothing; there was nothing to say. He’d grown beyond anything he could have imagined. He’d left humanity behind, for people were now rodents to him; soon to be bugs, or even dust motes in the air. He could barely make out Aaron from this perspective, so he hunkered down to scoop him up with one massive mitt. As the dark shadow of the approaching giant hand descended towards little Aaron, finally he broke petrification and managed to scream. He screamed and screamed, but George paid it no notice. The hand came for him. It closed around him. It crushed him. *** The next thing Aaron knew was his beautiful boyfriend rousing him awake. “Morning gorgeous. Sleep well? I hope not. So much amazing sex meant we didn’t get much sleep, heh heh.” George rolled onto his enormous back and took Aaron up onto his massive midsection. He playfully bounced his pecs to get the cute sleepyhead to snap fully awake. “What? Whaaaat? But you… you….” Aaron was lost for words. “I think you had a nightmare. I wanted to wake you up, but they say it’s bad to do that to someone. And you were rambling, too. You mentioned a name… Arturo? He’s not a secret boyfriend I should be concerned about, is he?” George feigned an expression of jealousy and suspicion. “Oh… it was a dream. Oh George, it was awful… you… you… grew so…” Aaron couldn’t get the words out. “Well growing is the plan, little Aaron, dude. Want to have some sex before brekky? Dad has a lot on for us today, but there’ll still be time to show you around the Junkyard. You’ll love Debs and Anna and what they’ve done to make me my own special gym.” George beamed with delight. He flexed his biceps in bed and then hugged his boyfriend tight. He loved him so much. Okay, it’d only be a couple of days, but he knew Aaron — his muscle muse — was the only guy he’d ever love. “Um… is there a car compactor machine there?” “Uh, strange question, but I’ll allow it, sweetie. Er… yeah, but it’s a rust bucket. Hasn’t worked in years. Debs wants to strip it down to make it into machines to help with my bodybuilding, but Anna thinks it’s part of local heritage and should be preserved. Honestly I love them both, but I don’t know how those two have stayed together as long as they have. They never agree on anything.” Aaron was white as a sheet. Unstandable after a nightmare. “Um… can we leave the Junkyard for the time being? I sort of have a phobia about places like that.” Aaron’s tone was almost pleading. George studied him for a moment. Then he lightly touched his face and kissed him lovingly. “Okay, sweetie. It’s fine. I don’t care what we do, as long as we always do it together.” Aaron smiled shakily and then allowed his huge boyfriend to hug him firmly but tenderly. “Do me a favour, George,” Aaron said softly within his boyfriend’s embrace. “Just name it, honey,” said George smiling and showing off his cute, boyish dimples. “Please don’t get… too big. That’s all.” They hugged quietly for a little longer after that. During that time nothing more was said. There was just the closeness of two people in love, and the quiet trembling love can sometimes arouse. More soon...
  5. This is my first story. It's going to have bite sized chapters and very regular updates (most likely daily). This is a m/m superhero romance. The first two chapters are mostly set up, but after that every chapter has plenty of sexy muscle and feats of strength, so please stick with it! Chapter 1 It began as all the best love stories do: with terrorism. The 24th of March 2013 is much like any other day. Hugo Chavez recently died, triggering what would go on to become an economic crisis in Venezuela, the UN security council has just slammed North Korea with harsh new sanctions, Justin Timberlake is topping the charts with ‘Mirrors’, protestors are waving signs outside Parliament, protesting about something, pigeons are shitting, rain is pouring, and I'm on my way to work. The newly opened Shard is difficult to miss. It towers over London’s skyline, jutting into the clouds like the lair of a comic book villain. I make my way inside, flashing my ID as I go. ‘Jake Langley’, it says in large capital letters, along with an employee number and my date of birth. I only show it as a courtesy - the security guards have all memorised my face by now. I sometimes wonder what they think of me. Am I ‘that cute, fresh faced little pastry chef with the dimples’ or do they just see me as a child straight out of college, coasting by on boyish looks, with no clue what he’s doing? I’d like to think it was the former. I’d like to. But I don’t. I wish I was the kind of guy who had the guts to ask. The kind who knows he's good enough, who knows he's not going to be rejected or shut down. But even if I wasn't gay, I will never be that kind of guy. It's not in my nature. I'm not assertive or domineering. I smile, wave, and make pastry. That's my nature. I slip by in this hyper masculine world by being too small for anyone to see as a threat. And for the most part, it works. The kitchens still shine like the day they were installed, which wasn't that long ago. Most kitchens are crowded, starkly lit places where you can barely move an inch without bumping into someone or knocking something over, but not this one. Natural light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, treating us to a view of London that millions of people would kill for. But I'm not here for the views. Okay, maybe a little bit. But mostly, I'm here to do my job. I find my little corner and start preparing for the day’s guests. It's a Sunday, so we're expecting a lot of traffic. There isn’t an overpaid banker in London who doesn’t salivate over the idea of lunch at the Shard. Russian oligarchs, Saudi oil barons, British royalty, Colombian drug lords - we serve them all. I don’t care who they are or what they do. It's none of my business. It sounds like a simple, boring job - making pastry. You’d be surprised at how much there is to it. There’s a reason they have pastry chefs – this is a difficult thing to get right. It's always come easily to me. I find something calming about rolling out a sheet of puff, spreading on the butter, folding it over, and rolling it out again. There's a rhythm to it. My movements soon become mechanical and I can feel myself floating away into a distant world where I'm someone interesting, somewhere interesting, doing something interesting. The kitchen hums around me as the first orders come in. Pans clink, hobs fizzle, water gurgles as it boils. I can barely hear the orders being barked over it all. But I'm not really paying attention. Boom. I can feel a wave of pressure pass through my feet, up to my head, and down again. Everything is shaking; the walls, the floor, the windows. Pots rattle above my head on their hooks. I turn to see the kitchen staff frozen, eyeing one another with pointed glares. I don't think I've ever seen this room so quiet. “What was that?” I hear one of them whisper, his voice carrying clear across the room. No one answers. Was it an earthquake? It couldn’t be. Earthquakes aren’t instantaneous, they're gradual. Then it comes again, much louder. BOOM. I don’t know if it's the ringing in my ears or the shaking beneath my feat, but I'm suddenly hunched over a table, flour covering my hands, gasping for breath. I don't know how long I spend there, trying to comprehend what's going on. It must be a minute or two, at least. My daze is broken as an alarm whirrs into life, high pitched and screaming. Red lights flash. All at once, the shock turns to chaos. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. They're coming faster now, from all over the building. I can feel them in my bones. While others run for the doors, I huddled under my table. What the hell is going on? My eyes drift to the windows, where black smoke is billowing up past our floor, carrying dust and paper. Fuck. I watched 9/11 unfold on live TV and I was here when they locked down London during the 7/7 attacks. It's impossible to ignore the reality of what's going on. This is a terrorist attack. I can see dark shapes floating past outside, just beyond the smoke. Choppers. News choppers. When I had dreamed of appearing on TV, I was thinking more along the lines of Deal or No Deal, not this. Anything but this. I'm now alone in the kitchen. I don't know when that happened. I presume everyone else has fled. My gaze flickers to the open door as I try to decide what to do. Maybe if I run now, I could get out before the building collapses. Or maybe the lower floors are experiencing the worst of it, and I'm best waiting up here while the blaze is brought under control. Is there anything here I could turn into a parachute? No, I scold myself. That’s pointless and stupid. I’d never break through those windows anyway. Turning on my phone, I check the BBC. The first result is a live video of the Shard, burning in a dozen places. The news anchors are speaking but I can’t hear a word of it. I watch the screen in horror as the fire begins to creep outward from the explosion sites. One of them is pretty close to this kitchen. Placing my hands on the ground, I feel warmth. There’s a rumbling sensation. Something is crackling not far from our door. As fast as I can, I slam it shut, backing away with a hiss as the handle burns my skin, leaving it red and blotchy. Now there’s smoke trickling in through the vents and the air is getting hazy. Pulling a wet cloth over my mouth, I run around the kitchen and turn on all the taps and block all the drains. They overflow one by one, spilling out onto the floor until there’s a pool of water an inch deep. This won’t save me, but it might slow the spread. It’s getting seriously hot in here. I clutch my burned hands around the wet cloth, which eases the pain, but nothing can stop the coughing fits. There’s soot clogging my lungs and in my eyes, causing them to water uncontrollably. The air is so thick now that I can barely see from one end of the room to the other. My only sign that the door has buckled is the red tongues of flame licking at the ceiling. At the same time, I’m hit by a wave of heat so overwhelming that my only option is to curl up on the floor and cover my face as I feel the skin of my back start to blister. Then something astonishing happens. Something so unusual that I wonder if I’m hallucinating. There's a silhouette visible through the smoke. A man. He's enormous, and seems completely unphased by the fire caressing every inch of his body. His eyes find me on the floor, and a look of relief flits across his face. I blink, and he’s suddenly leaning over me. How did he move so fast? I open my mouth to ask, but only a ragged cough comes out. Two huge arms gently scoop me up. I press my face into his chest to escape the heat. Somehow even in the middle of a burning skyscraper, his touch makes me feel safe. Protected. Isn’t that strange? I hear the sound of shattering glass, feel a rush of cold air on my neck. The arms wrap more tightly around me. The lurching in my stomach tells me we’re moving, and I try to look around, but one hand on the back of my head keeps me locked to his chest. As the adrenaline fades, my body starts to scream in pain. I’ve never felt such agony. It’s only a matter of time before blackness is creeping into my vision, clouding my mind. And then I’m gone.
  6. Who knows when or what causes a friendship to blossom into so much more. Sam and I had hung out in the same crowd for about five years. In the last year and a half we had actually started spending a lot of time doing things just the two of us. It was a comfortable friendship – going out for drinks, catching a movie, grabbing a bite to eat, and stuff like that. We weren’t similar in too many ways - he was into sports and a gym rat trying to grow big while I was working on my doctorate in Shakespearean Sonnets. Yet, he had somehow gotten me to actually like watching rugby championships and he had become a huge fan of the Tony Awards – not wanting o miss one second of Broadway’s biggest night. We also both had a secret love for romantic comedies. We had been forced out of our rom-com closets when the local independent theatre had a special cram packed holiday screening of ‘Love Actually’ and our assigned seats ended up being right beside each other. After trying to find a million excuses of why we were there we both eventually confessed up to our guilty pleasure. It was a cold Saturday night in November and Sam was spending the evening at my place to finally marathon watch and prove to each other which was a better movie – ‘When Harry Met Sally’ or ‘Sleepless in Seattle.’ I was a big old fan of the Tom Hank, Meg Ryan heartbreaker turns happy film, while he said Meg did her best stuff with Billy Crystal in the multiple year spanning classic. We both knew the other guy probably held the two movies in equal esteem, but the debate gave us an ‘out’ for having the movie marathon, pasta dinner evening, anyway. We had finished dinner, finished the movie, and were presently sitting on the sofa finishing what was the second bowl of popcorn for the evening. The conversation lulled a little and our hands touched as we grabbed for popcorn at the same time. The quickness and the force with which we both pulled back our arms was immediately funny and intriguing at the same time. We both noticed it. “After you,” I said – glancing at him and then looking at the television – black because it had been turned off a while ago. “No, I insist. You first,” Sam responded – and I could tell he was still looking at me. “You’re the guest,” I said, turning back to him and trying my best to not show that this little stupid exchange had really wrecked me. “Surely, I’m beyond guest status,” he said and we both laughed. “Yes, yes you are,” I agreed, reaching in to get a handful of popcorn. Looking back on the evening now, we are able to acknowledge from that moment on our conversation turned into what would surely be labeled the horrible dialogue from a very bad porno movie, but when you are in the budding throes of new passion you simply are unaware . . . or you simply don’t care. We both think – with a better script – the evening would make for a great romantic comedy. Sam started us on our trip into the world of poor screenwriters. “I pulled a trap muscle in the gym, today. You wouldn’t mind massaging it a little, would you?” he asked. “Of course not,” I replied, “If only I knew what a trap muscle was.” This made him laugh – something that had never made my stomach do leaps until that moment. I forced myself to not smile uncontrollably – something I always did to cover up my nervousness. Sam pointed up to a knotted mass of muscled next to his neck – bulging noticeably upward under his shirt. I reached up, hoping to hell he did not notice that my hand was shaking and grabbed hold of the hardness under the fabric – shocked at how big and stone-like this particular part of his body felt. I definitely knew I did not have traps that were noticeable. At first, it felt like I was trying to knead concrete – and then I realized I’d have to use a lot more pressure than I had anticipated. I gripped his trap muscle harder and started squeezing strongly. He winced a little and let out a little moan. I immediately stopped. “I’m sorry, does that hurt?” I asked. “In a good way,” he replied with his eyes closed. “Keep going, I can tell it’s going to help.” I squeezed again – even harder than before and he emitted a low ‘yeah’ and eased toward me a little. I reached up with my other hand and gave him a massage with both of them. This seemed to increase the pain for him – judging by the way h winced, but he certainly sounded like what I was doing was pleasurable. “Get up on the sofa behind me,” he said, “So you can get at it from a better angle.” This seemed totally logical and there was nothing weird about m sitting with his back between my spread legs a few minutes later as I gladly gripped both trap muscles with my hands and squeezed as if my life depended on it. I could feel myself wanting to give Sam the massage of his lifetime. I wanted him to keep making the loud pleasure sounds that were presently escaping his mouth. I was so intent on my job I hadn’t even realized I was now fully hard in my jeans and pressing my crotch against his hard muscled upper back to give myself some more pleasure. “The material of your shirt keeps getting in the way,” I seriously said in all innocence. “Why don’t you take it off?” He leaned forward and had the thing off so quickly I almost wondered how it had happened. He leaned back against me, as if even a slight separation of our bodies might make us lose momentum for whatever this was turning into. We were both aware of how much all of this was turning on the other guy, but that really didn’t enter into our consciousness fully. We just wanted to continue moving forward and see where all of this led us. “God, your hands feel so good, man,” he said – and it sounded as if he were lost in some kind of trance. “Your muscles feel good, too,” I said – without any hesitation and without even thinking about it afterwards. Sam brought his arms up into a double biceps pose. I’d never seen him do that before. His arms ballooned up with muscle. I moaned out loud and slid my hands onto the big guns below me. He actually gasped and his body shook as I groped the big mounds. “Yeah, feel those big things, man. You like my arms, don’t you?” Sam said, and I swear it sounded as if he were some other guy – all cocky and masculine. “So much,” I said, softly, and noticed my answer made him shake again. I looked down and saw that his crotch was packed with something big and hard, just as mine was. His entire upper body seemed so huge, so powerful. I was entranced with all of his muscles. My right hand moved to his bulging triceps, to stead myself as my other hand moved from his biceps down to hi massive pec – letting his nipple be teased between two fingers. He was watching my hands closely – clearly loving the way I was making him feel. I pressed in harder, hoping to make his steel-like body feel my adoration. His pleasure moans told me I was succeeding. He turned his face upward, letting the back of his head bump into my raging hard-on. His eyes told me what to do. I brought my lips down to his – while he continued to flex and I continued to grope. It was a kiss for the ages. His bristled stubble felt incredible against my face. He tightened his arms even more and made the big bulging peaks go higher. He clearly wanted to make me happy. I groped harder, rubbed his muscled body even more, and purred like a kitten. “God, I love your beard,” I said out of the side of our mouth – not letting our kiss end. “I think I’ve secretly wanted you to say that for a very long time,” he responded. “And I think I’ve wanted you to feel my muscles for a very long time, too. A very long time.” “This feels so good,” I said, kissing him harder. “This feels so right,” he said, reaching around my head with his left hand and pulling my face into his even more.
  7. [Selfishly, this story has things I love - older men, romance, sex, and strength. I humbly submit it as my offering to this great event.] His big beefy calloused hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled my face into his concrete-hard right pec. There was a loud smack as I hit his unyielding tight flesh. I couldn’t have pulled my head away even if I had wanted to – he was just that strong. His fingers tightened on my skull and he rubbed my nose, lips, cheeks, and forehead back and forth across the wide expanse of his chest muscle. It seemed as big as a continent. I had become something akin to a washcloth in his hand. My crushed nose got some temporary relief as it slid down into the deep, seemingly unending crevice between his mammoth mounds of meat, but then he started flexing and squeezed the holy hell out of my face. I was suddenly shocked by how powerful pec muscle could be. Meanwhile, his other equally large, strong hand slid slowly down my back and found its way into my ass crack, easily parting cheeks and pressing dangerously against my tight hole. His first two fingers toyed with me as both hands moved slightly upward, making me go up on the tips of my toes. “Unhhhh . . . yeaaaaah,” he said in a low deep growl-like whisper, clearly pleased by how my bubble butt clamped tight in response to his invasion. He stopped the advancement at my ass, pulling his hand away – obviously, that particular part of my body would be a special reward for a later time. I fell back down on the soles of my feet, no longer supported by his strong hands. The fingers at the back of my skull moved again, my face was pulled from its resting place between his tensed pecs and roughly dragged through the heavy salt-and-pepper fur covering his mammoth chest. I knew where I was headed before I even got there. The big muscular paw led my saliva-leaking mouth directly to his massive right nipple – jutting from his pec like a huge knob of granite flesh waiting to be adored. My lips instantly parted to accept the hard thing and I was surprised by its size. “Suck,” he ordered, in that same sexy-as-fuck low voice that seemed to rumble loudly from his enormous chest. I marveled at how a man’s voice could sound so powerful and full of testosterone. My mouth immediately became like a high-powered vacuum. I latched onto his hairy pec like I was in a contest to see who could leave the most nipple hickeys – even though I knew his skin was too hard for me to do any damage. The big man let out a deep animalistic growl that made it clear I was doing a good job. The grip on my head tightened even more and my face was compressed into his hard muscle so deeply it hurt. Evidently, my oral skills became too much for the big man, though, because he suddenly let his fingers grip my hair and he pulled my head backwards, forcing my face to turn up towards his. He brought his lips down to mine and immediately his mouth became a much more powerful vacuum than I ever could have dreamed of being. He sucked so hard I swear my feet came off the ground again. His tongue didn’t just dominate my mouth – it ignored the fact that I was even there and had its way with me – jabbing deeply into my throat. I started to become alarmed that I would soon lose teeth, tonsils, or possibly my own tongue – his kiss was more like an ancient army with a battering ram. Still, it was thrilling beyond belief. Obviously, the massive man liked it too, because he pulled his face away from mine and again emitted a pleased low growl before slamming my face back into his pec, so I could return to pleasing his nipple. This was the third time in three weeks I had summoned the huge man known only as Papa Bear to my condominium. He was an expensive hustler, but his particular specialty was way beyond what my fantasies could ever have begun to conjure up. The three hundred and fifty pound muscled bear was somewhere around fifty-five to fifty-eight and had the kind of manly beard that would make any lumberjack jealous. A silver crew cut that seemed to emphasize his masculinity even more and a body that seemed like three huge power lifters molded together just added to the overall package. When you touched his muscles it felt like they were perpetually tensed – as if he was flexing for you all the time – but then you realized he was just hard as hell . . . everywhere. When I stood beside him it felt like I was a five year old hanging out with his monstrous father. He wasn’t much into conversation, a definite plus, and – somehow – the guy instinctively always knew what I wanted . . . or needed. The first week I had told him I was in the mood for lots of sex, so he banged me hard numerous times in different spots around my home. I was in so many different positions that night I saw my place from angles I had never even imagined. We actually didn’t make it to the bed in the master bedroom. I lost count of his orgasms somewhere around two o’clock when I was being pounded so hard on the dining room table my eyes were rolling back into my head. I did, however, remember groping his hard-as-stone guns through the entire evening – somehow their obvious strength and size anchoring me in reality. I swear the already massive things swelled even bigger during the sex that night. The next morning, as I lay nude and totally spent on the carpet in the middle of the living room and Papa Bear prepared to leave, he apologized for how sore I was going to feel for a few days. He also reminded me I had asked for lots of sex. I ended up calling in sick at work for two days - just because every muscle in my body was in agony and I found it very difficult to walk. It had been exactly the kind of evening I had wanted. When I called him the second time I swear I detected a pleased tone in his voice and I was impressed when he said he remembered exactly who I was and where I lived. Before we hung up he asked what I was looking for from the evening and I told him it had been a rough week and I was looking for some romance and cuddling. When I opened the door a few hours later I was greeted with a dozen red roses, a bottle of wine, and Papa Bear dressed in an insanely tight crisp white button-down shirt – opened more than half way down to show off his mega furry pecs. I was pretty sure my entire head could’ve disappeared between the man’s mounds of muscled chest beef. When he bent his arms I swear you could hear the material in the sleeves screaming because it was stretched almost to the bursting point. One of the hottest things in the world, to me, is a guy wearing clothes and his muscles still being so defined that you can actually see veins and striations. I had a feeling if the senior muscle man had inhaled too deeply the poor shirt would have instantly been a pile of shredded rags on the floor. Once the flowers were arranged nicely in a vase and the wine had been poured, the big man picked me up in his arms as if he was just giving a shrug, motioned with his head for me to take the glasses, and then carried me to the large master bathroom. I could sense that my weight barely registered to his bulging guns. He held me with one arm as he started the water in the large Jacuzzi bathtub, and after checking to make sure the temperature of the water was just right, he set me down, kneeled, and began to lovingly undress me. He stroked my body as he undid buttons and zippers. Once I was standing there nude, he stood up – his full six foot four inches – and slowly took off his own clothes, making sure he tensed every bulging muscle as it was uncovered. He knew watching him undress would turn me on completely – and the skyrocketing rod at my crotch confirmed that assumption. To tease me, he flexed his gigantic arms when he was fully undressed, knowing the show would make my night. He, again, easily lifted me and then placed me in the tub – cupping warm water in his hands to let it cascade over my body to help me get used to the warmth. The temperature of the water, however, seemed to soar to boiling point as soon as he joined me in the tub. I was just as turned on by his soft caresses as I had been by his all-night power plowing the week before. Once he was nestled comfortably in the big bathtub, he pulled my smaller body onto his, his bulging chest becoming a pillow for my head. We sipped our wine in silence as he softly pinched my nips, fondled my balls, massaged my shoulders, arms, and legs, and kept my cock at full mast with loving thick-fingered strokes every few minutes. Even though his body felt harder than stone, it was so comfortable lying there – feeling my body go up and down as he inhaled and exhaled. I fell asleep resting on him and about an hour later I woke up to find myself in bed and him propped up on one big arm beside me – staring at and caressing me as I slept. He leaned his face down to mine and gave me a kiss on the lips. He then moved his mouth near my ear. “Would you like this big man to be inside you?” he asked in a soft sultry voice that was full of love, need, and extreme power. I simply nodded my head, too turned on to say a word. He reached over and pulled my body on top of his as he lay on his back. It was as if he were merely pulling up a light sheet. Resting on top of his mountainous torso was quickly becoming one of my most favorite things in he world. He then slid both hands down my sides and grabbed my hips. He easily lifted my body in the air, turned me upright, and then I felt his hardening cock slap against my ass with a loud thud. He lifted my body higher and then moved my ass so it hovered over his straight-as-an-arrow steel-like thick rod. He lowered me slowly – until the wide tip of his penis poked teasingly into my tight hole. I clenched my ass even more – determined to block his passage, with the intention of giving us both more pleasure. This made him smile and chuckle – me thinking I could prevent him from getting what he wanted. His grip at my hips tightened and he pulled my body downward – slowly and methodically. His cockhead easily pushed its way through my tight love hole and I threw my head back as I let out a defeated scream. Papa Bear had penetrated my inner sanctum with a mere tug of his mighty arms. The big man’s cock was clearly as strong as the rest of him - because it didn’t waiver at all during the invasion. The big man let me rest there – impaled by his big hard weapon – until the initial pain turned into something closer to tortured pleasure. He was only slightly inside me and, yet, it seemed like I was being plowed by the thick end of a baseball bat. His smile grew bigger and I quickly figured out that my tight hole was also giving him much pleasure. His cock was leaking so much pre-cum it was like an instant full tube of lube had been emptied for the plowing that was to come. I felt my chute slowly accepting Papa Bear’s big hard tool and the huge man slowly pulled my happy body lower – making me moan loudly with pure joy. I was breathing heavily and pinching the shit out of his nipples by the time my butt cheeks felt the bristles of the thick fur around his balls. And then he was completely inside me and I rested securely on his crotch. Papa Bear released his grip at my hips and my body stayed in place – like the sheath of a sword. That’s when the big body beneath me began to roll like giant gentle waves hitting the beach. The motion of his pulsing crotch gave me unfathomable feelings of ecstasy and I squeezed his nipples even harder. “You feel so fucking good,” he said in a voice that seemed to soothe and empower at the same time. It was like the low strong hum of a powerful jet. Papa Bear finally melted into a rhythm that made it seem like we were on a waterbed enjoying the constant swishing back and forth of heavy liquid below. His strong broad body supported me easily and every time his hard tool thrust deeper into my body I would tug on his nipples to make him arch his back even more – sending his cock further into me. We had become one entity – a cycle of pleasure running through both of us, constantly exciting the other man to new levels. His pulsing cock caused me to tighten and push down heavily and that just made him want to shove in harder. I was so ‘on fire’ from his slippery cock moving in and out of my ass that I didn’t even realize how close I was to ejaculation. Suddenly, my body tensed up all over and rockets of cum started shooting out of my hard as stone cock – held tightly in the grip of Papa Bear’s right hand. Huge splotches of cum shot up past the big man’s face – hitting the wooden headboard of the bed, like some orgasmic art project. I blasted off about twenty rounds and somewhere in the middle of my release the big man started spurting gobs of his manly juice into me. Watching me get off had been too much for Papa Bear – he responded with his own cannon shooting off a big load. With every super orgasmic release his crotch bucked upward, which only rammed his rod harder into me and sent me reeling even more. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the big man stopped spewing and when his breathing finally returned to normal he lifted my body off his tool. Papa Bear then, again, laid me on top of his big torso. His hand immediately returned to my ass and started caressing my cheeks – as if to tell me he was waiting for a chance to return. “Did Papa Bear help his boy forget about his ugly week for a little while,” he asked softly – true concern clearly in his words. “Yes sir,” I replied. “Good. You rest now, son. You deserve it. I’ll be right here to comfort and protect you while you sleep,” he added. “You don’t even have to worry about work. We can talk about me going in with you one day and taking care of anyone that bothers you. I’ll not wear a shirt and that’ll intimidate the hell out of anyone that’s a pain. How does that sound?” I didn’t even respond because by that time I was fast asleep – surrounded by hard warm muscle and the comfort of his soothing voice. It hadn’t been a difficult decision to call Papa Bear the first time. A friend of mine had given me a flyer for this dude that he said was the exact man I was looking for. I was impressed with the picture of the man’s arm – I was gigantic and it didn’t look morphed in any way. But it was the written invitation to have a true older alpha come take care of you that really intrigued me. God, I loved huge mature men. There’s just something unbelievable about a white haired muscled monster that gets me going big time. I’m sure it has something to do with them being experienced – years meaning they have learned a lot about life, about themselves, and about pleasing others. I was a big sucker for white, fur-covered mountainous pecs, too. A generous dusting of hair surrounding plump nipples made my mouth water. A massive muscled grandpa-looking dude could be fodder for my jerk-off sessions for the rest of my life. The friend who gave me the flyer had heard me pour my heart out numerous times. He was the bartender at one of my favorite gay hangouts in the neighborhood, so he had learned a lot about what I liked and what I didn’t. He also knew how often I fell for older men that just wanted a quickie – and usually ended up getting my heart broken. I trusted my friend to help me out, so it was easy to take the flyer. When I dialed the number on the advertisement, a deep alpha voice said, “You better like muscle and what it can do if you’re calling this number. You’re talking to Papa Bear.” “Um . . . excuse me,” I said, a little caught off guard by the answer. “The name’s Papa Bear, kid. You want me to take care of you?” came the reply and the gruff voice thrilled me again. “Uh . . . um . . . yes . . . sir.” I responded. “Oh good, I like polite boys,” Papa Bear answered. “Text me the details – name, address, what you’re looking for from my visit, and anything that might be off limits for you.” “Um . . . off limits? Like what?” I replied, clearly inexperienced in this kind of business transaction. “Like, is it not okay to break furniture or be rough enough to cause bruises or make sure you share any particular fetish you may have,” he replied – and the idea of him crushing furniture made me harder than I already was. “Got it, sport?” “Um . . . yes sir,” I replied. “Try not to beat off too many times thinking about our upcoming meeting, kid, or staring at my big arm on that flyer,” he said before hanging up. “I want you to be juiced to the max.” Thankful for silence, because my cock needed time to back off from the edge, I immediately texted him the details, including how I hoped it could be Saturday night. I was a little surprised when I got an instant reply. The message only said, “I’ll be pumped,” and there was an icon of a flexed biceps. I stared at the screen for a while – unable to control the excitement that was gushing through my body – specifically returning to a part of me below the belt. I wanted to beat off to the flyer of Papa Bear’s arm, but I could still hear his deep voice telling me not to. I knew I would have no concentration at work or home for the next four days. I also knew I’d clean my place better than it had ever been cleaned before. That had been how it all began and now we were in the middle of our second visit. I dreamed about Papa Bear the entire night after our romantic time in the tub and the slow, toe-curling sex in bed. When I woke up, I immediately sensed that the big man was not there. It was kind of like when you’re sitting in traffic and a huge dump tuck beside you finally pulls away – you instinctively can feel the absence of something so gigantic. I started to get a little sad, thinking the older muscleman had left, but then I smelled freshly brewed coffee and what I’m sure was bacon and eggs. My morning wood stiffened even harder when I imagined Papa Bear working away in my kitchen. Then, as if on cue, the mountainous bulging man walked into the bedroom, wearing only the apron I had been gifted with at the end of a weeklong cooking class in Tuscany. When I wore it, the red and blue material almost covered my entire body – coming down below my knees and the opening at the neck hanging down below my chest. On Papa Bear, however, the apron didn’t even cover his crotch and his chest was so big it made the top part of the material look like a small tight bib. The man’s huge dong was hard and arched out like some kind of pornographic crane. Papa Bear smiled at me when he saw I was awake and he stood by the bed, reaching down to tug on my raging hard-on through the sheet. “Looks like we were both thinking about the other,” he said and I simply nodded yes – enjoying his big paw roughly fondling me below. “I’ve got breakfast and coffee ready, but I was hoping you might want me to fill you in another way, first?” I didn’t say a word. I merely reached out and started stroking his hard cock – marveling at the fact that my hand couldn’t reach completely around it. Clearly, the man had not built his muscles to compensate for inadequacy in other areas of his body. I, again, didn’t say a word – I just nodded my head and brought my mouth to the tip of his cock, kissing it lightly. In such a short time that I wouldn’t be able to tell you how it happened, he had lifted my body off the bed, taken off the apron, sat down on the edge, and was lowering my ass toward the big penis tower between his legs. I bent my knees so I’d end up kneeling when he was completely inside of me. By now, I was used to the moment of impact from his unyielding power stick. The head of his dick felt like stainless steel or something even harder when it poked teasingly at my hole. I shocked the older muscleman a little when I suddenly jerked my body downward in his hands and forced the plump head inside of me with one quick pop. I shouted and he grunted in pleasure as soon as I forced the invasion. Papa Bear, however, took my lead and with his powerful arms he plunged my body down his long thick rod with one quick jerk. For a few seconds my mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. It took only a few more seconds for me to register the extreme pleasure of having him all the way inside of me and I began to moan happily as he rolled his hips on the bed and forced himself back and forth in my love canal. “You feel so good, babe,” he said – and I swear it was one of the most loving things I had ever heard. “How ‘bout being a good boy and sucking on these huge pecs while I rock your world.” Most people would have considered those words cocky. Not me. I understood this man almost as much as I understood myself. He knew his words would please me – and they did. They pleased me very much. And pleasing him always made me happy. He also didn’t need to ask me twice about his thick plugs. My mouth was on his right nipple in no time at all. A confident man knows what he wants and what he likes – and he’s not ashamed to ask for it. Papa Bear loved having his nipples abused. I had learned that already in our few times together. I clearly got the balance of teeth and sucking just right because the big man’s body uncontrollably responded to my work with shivers, goose bumps, and a racing heart that pounded loudly through the man’s mega pecs. “Aw fuck, you’ve got a hot mouth, son,” the big man said in between low, animal-like moans. Papa Bear also clearly had glutes of steel. His ass was pulsing up and down on the bed, with an added crunch from the man’s cobblestoned abs, and that was creating a rhythm between our two bodies that quickly edged us both toward release. It felt like I was on the back of some giant horse that was galloping wildly. I continued to chow down on his nipples – moving from right to left as he held tightly to my hips, thrusting my body up and down on his cock even faster and harder than before. I was a guy that had had lots of sex before this man. That’s not boasting, it’s just a fact. But sex with Papa Bear wasn’t even an action – it was more like something that just happened – like breathing or swallowing. We were natural together. It was a matching of giving and receiving that blended perfectly. My cock was tightly pressed between our bodies – rammed continuously against his hard stomach - and, like the night before, I was so excited by this man and his body I started cumming before I even realized I was near ejaculation. Suddenly, my cock was spewing hot milky jizz between our torsos. I continued to tug mercilessly at the man’s thick, hard nubs and finally Papa Bear could take no more. It was probably a mixture of the abuse at his chest, the clenched ass around his thick tool, and my hands savagely kneading his hard massive guns that sent him over the top. Again, I was filled with the love juice of this muscled senior and it seemed like I was being injected with the nectar of the gods. I swear I could feel how his cum immediately energized and fed my body. It was like he was the conduit bringing some kind of life force to all of me. I received every drop he had to offer and never stopped sucking on his pecs. Soon, our heartbeats had settled into a normal rhythm and I pulled my face from his chest. We simply stared at each other for a few minutes. “You make me want to be big and strong,” he said softly. “You already are big and strong,” I replied. “Yes I am. You make me want to be bigger and stronger,” he answered. “That turns me on like you wouldn’t believe,” I said, smiling at the big man in a way that made him smile, too. “Want some coffee? I made it strong . . . like me,” he said, chuckling at his own joke. “That sounds great, but I don’t want to separate from you, just yet,” I replied. “You don’t have to,” he said and then stood up – easily taking my body with him. “You’re so light it’s like only having a sweater wrapped around my waist.” To be carried – with a thick rod still plugging your hole and strong arms wrapped around your lower back – is one of the best feelings in the world. It means the man holding you is big . . . and strong . . . and in charge. There’s something about a powerful air fucking that is simply amazing, but sometimes just to be carried or held can be so much more exciting. Papa Bear bounced my body up and down in his big hands a few times - just to emphasize how I weighed no more than a beach ball would to a normal man. I had the strong feeling he could have tossed me through the ceiling, but I knew he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the kind of guy he was. He loved his strength – and showing it off – but he wouldn’t ever think of hurting me. Once we made it to the kitchen he placed me in a chair and then poured us both some coffee. He sat in the chair next to me – swinging his leg over the back of the thing in that macho alpha kind of way. A plate with breakfast food was placed in front of me. He then started eating, but flexed his free arm right beside me – the peak swelling to hugeness. I immediately knew it was for me to have something to grope while I ate. The man certainly knew how to please. I reached over and placed my small fragile-llooking hand on top of his monstrous biceps and then tried desperately to press the skin inward - even a little bit. This made Papa Bear grunt a small chuckle, as if he was saying ‘no way, kid,’ and he flexed the thing even harder. We ate our food in silence – my hand caressing his big gun the entire time. Every now and then I’d lean over to kiss the big mound of muscle and Papa Bear would lean in to do the same thing – our eyes meeting over the giant peak. It wasn’t until that moment that it registered we were both sitting there totally nude – raging hard-ons poking upward in our laps and still sticky from my earlier explosion. My hand went back to the top of his bulging arm and tried desperately to grip the muscle – but to no avail. “Big enough for you, son?” Papa Bear asked. “Yes sir,” I replied, “and then some.” “I’m always forgetting how big they are and busting the seams of my sleeves. I probably ruin two shirts a week,” the big man said as we both stared at the mammoth mound, which he was tensing upward and then relaxing. It was mesmerizing. “Most folks say biceps are the muscles that most exemplify strength. What do you think, boy?” “When they’re as big as yours, sir, they certainly shout power – lots of power,” I answered. “They used to be my favorite muscle on a huge man, but you’ve helped me see there are lots of other great muscles, as well.” “Yeah, like what?” he asked. “Well, after your arms, it’s kind of hard not to be immediately attracted to your tremendous chest, sir,” I said. “It seems to go on forever. But then, you’ve also got some keg-sized muscled thighs, abs of steel, shoulders wider than most doors – oh, and forearms that would even make Popeye jealous. And then let’s not forget your insanely thick and powerful calves – they turn me on a lot. So, I guess in answer to your question, I am attracted to all of your muscles. “That’s a great answer, kid,” he replied and leaned down to give me another kiss. “It’s starting to feel like I finally found the real reason I’m so big. I got to get going, sport. Shall we clean up this kitchen?” “I’d rather you leave that for me to do and, instead, we take a quick shower together,” I suggested. Before I could say another word I was back in his arms and we were headed back to the master bedroom. My supersized shower – with two powerful jet showerheads seemed small as soon as Papa Bear stepped inside. We spent the next fifteen minutes soaping up each other – his body taking a lot more time than mine because there was so much of him – and then we rinsed. He picked me up like a child after wrapping me in a towel and dried me off while I was held aloft in his arms. I watched him dry off, then dress, and finally we were standing at my front door. It was obvious neither of us wanted the time to end. He gave me a long kiss and then there was the exchange of a white envelope. I could have sworn he found this moment as awkward as I did, but I knew that wasn’t possible. As soon as he was gone, my place felt empty – such a huge presence had disappeared. It was like knocking down a wall and then immediately missing it. That night I called him to set up another meeting – for the upcoming weekend. He picked up after the first ring. “I was hoping you’d call and yes I’m available for any time you say,” was how he answered the phone. This thrilled me more than I could have imagined. It seemed like he was genuinely into me – and not just playing a part for the money. I had thought hard about this conversation since I knew he would ask me what I wanted from him at our next visit. And sure enough, after we had settled on the date and time, the big man asked his usual question. “What do you need from Papa Bear this week, boy?” he growled. “I would like you to be a dominant alpha, sir. If that would be okay with you,” I said and I swear I could feel him smile. “Are you sure, bub? That’s my favorite role to play. I can really get into the part,” he said – and I could tell he was very excited about the possibility of being allowed to be free to be the huge alpha he was. “I’m sure, sir. I can handle it,” I replied – and this seemed to please him very much. “Then listen very carefully, son,” he began. “I want you to greet me at the door stark naked. No underwear, no socks, and not even a ball cap. I don’t care if neighbors are walking by or if there’s someone else at your door. I’ll be there at eight. Remember, you better be nude. I want immediate easy access to all of you. I don’t want to have to punish you right from the beginning. You understand your Papa Bear, son?” “Yes sir,” I replied, my excitement clearly obvious in my answer. “That’s a good boy. I’ll see you Saturday at eight,” he said and then hung up. A week can sometimes fly by or feel like an eternity. That particular week felt like ten years. I could think of nothing else other than groping Papa Bear’s huge arms, sucking on his massive succulent chest, and feeling his strong body underneath me as I was filled with his loving tool. Twice, while sitting in important business meetings I had been asked a question and I said the word ‘muscles’ as my answer before I even realized what I was doing. Another thing that made the week drag was the fact that I didn’t once let even a drop of my sweet juice ooze from my cock. I wanted to save it for Papa Bear. I wanted to explode so hard for him that night that it would be perfectly clear I had saved myself just for him. When it was finally Saturday, I did more chores than ever in my life, just to fill the day so I wouldn’t beat off in anticipation of our meeting. An hour before the big man arrived I stripped to my birthday suit. I was so worried about disappointing the man that I walked around for sixty minutes completely naked. At ten minutes until eight I stood by my front door – like a puppy waiting for its master to return. The man’s loud knock ten minutes later made me jump and my cock shoot hard at the same time. I opened the door quickly – ready to show my alpha what a good boy I was. It had not dawned on me that Papa Bear might have chosen to do the same thing he had requested of me. When I looked out, he stood there in all of his powerful glory – just as naked as I was. A raging hard-on poked upward from his crotch and I immediately realized he was just as excited to be there as I was. “Good boy,” he bellowed in a low voice and I swear a big gob of pre-cum oozed from my cock in happy response to his pleased look. “I have a feeling some of your neighbors are busy beating off right now. I might have been too much for them.” The man reached out, grabbed me under my arms, and then lifted me up to plant a big kiss on my face. As usual, it wasn’t a pleasant caressing kiss – it was more like a cannon ball blasting through the side of a ship. I was held aloft like some kind of child’s doll while the big man’s tongue pillaged my mouth in a way that made it clear Papa Bear was in total alpha mode. He carried me a few steps into the place while using his foot to close the door behind him. He pulled his face from mine and tossed my body to the ground – fortunately I was able to stay standing. The big man’s chest was heaving up and down – like some kind of massive battleship riding waves in the ocean. Again, it was clear that Papa Bear was just as excited as I was – and I briefly wondered if he had spent the entire week thinking about this moment, too. “Come here,” he ordered, since his toss had sent me a few feet away. I walked up to him and he immediately raised his arms into a full-on, mountainous double biceps pose that made my knees immediately begin to wobble. I moaned out loud and this made he big man smile. He tensed his arms so hard that his face turned red and I swear his biceps seemed to swell higher than they ever had before. Papa Bea then let out a loud growl and threw his body into a frightening most-muscular pose. Every part of his body seemed to scream power as it exploded in supersize. If I hadn’t been turned on so much I clearly would have been petrified. The man released the pose and then just stood there – bulging like some morphed version of a normal man. I suddenly got the feeling he was calming himself down. It dawned on me that the man clearly knew what he was capable of – how powerful he could be if he let himself go. This was his way of not losing control – containing the alpha beast within him so he didn’t hurt something in my home or me. And that brings us right back to where this story began. Papa Bear’s huge hand cupped the back of my head hard and then smashed my face into his massive pec. I sucked his hairy nip with all of my might – ignoring the pain his hard-as-stone flesh inflicted. I was in heaven, totally dominated by this older muscleman – used like a toy, yielding to his grip like a plaything abused by a toddler. Papa Bear was grunting and moaning in a way that only fueled me on. To know I was giving this man pleasure excited me so much. To know he controlled the situation completely only made it that much hotter. “More teeth,” he ordered and I started roughly chomping down on the hard nub in my mouth. “Hell yeah, that feels real good. Don’t be afraid to use your molars, boy.” When you parachute from a plane there must be this point – soon after the initial moment of utter panic – when you simply give up all worry and completely give yourself over to the air around you. You submit to gravity and begin to enjoy the act of falling – the joy of being utterly free. Held tightly in the steel like grip of this elder powerful man gave me the same kind of feeling of freedom. I submitted myself completely to his lead – his control. Every molecule of my being seemed to be fully erect – totally tuned in – to his dominance. To be that free was a gift only a strong man could give. Of course, Papa Bear was aware of this fact, as well. It was clear he knew he had me in the palm of his hand – both literally and figuratively. He also didn’t abuse his power. That was not his style. He simply accepted the situation, as the way things should be. He was bigger. He was stronger. He was older. He assumed his rightful place as mentor, master, and dominator merely because of these concrete facts. I was his Gumby doll to be folded and manipulated in any way he desired. I was lucky to be his toy. I was privileged in my submission and we both knew it. I was the one paying for his services, but I was the product being used and not the other way around. The strong hand gripped my hair again and jerked my head back – causing my teeth to pull his nip roughly at the same time. The hard thing popped from my mouth as Papa Bear brought his lips down again for another round of face sucking. His mouth suctioned onto mine like some kind of high-pressurized interlocking doors on the International Space Station. There are kisses you remember because they are warm, gentle, and incredibly romantic – and then there are kisses etched in your memory because they are so manly and rough that you feel your own testosterone level has increased considerably. Papa Bear didn’t really kiss – it was more like his mouth ravaged your entire insides. His tongue dominated in the same way his powerful hands did – as if there was little awareness of the small being he plundered. It’s not that he didn’t care – you could feel his passion even in the dominance – it was just that you were unable to resist him in any way even if you had wanted to. By now, my stiff-as-a-board cock was leaking copious amounts of gooey homage to my muscle master. I couldn’t have turned off that pre-cum faucet even if I had squeezed my dick with all my might. Papa Bear’s other hand – the one not strongly interlocked in my hair – slid down to my ass and one of his thick fingers teasingly caused my pucker hole to clamp tightly shut when it, again, brushed roughly across it. My body was being stimulated simultaneously in so many areas that my eyes were beginning to roll back into my head. The big man was like an orgasmic lightning bolt shocking the hell out of my body every few seconds – causing me to jerk up on the balls of my feet in excitement. He again pulled his face from mine. “Gonna make you my boy-sicle on a thick stick,” he said, gruffly. His long powerful forefinger forced its way into me and I let out a loud moan that filled the room – making it clear that the invasion had been satisfying. My poor clenched asshole had been defenseless against his penetration – again showing my weakness and his strength. Papa Bear’s mouth clamped back down on mine, so his tongue could mirror the exploration his finger was doing below. I was now his finger puppet – controlled in every way. Submission isn’t weakness – no matter what anyone says. It’s a gift that you have to choose to give. There was no part of my body offering any resistance whatsoever at this point. I submitted my entire being to this elder muscle god – in hopes that he would give me pleasure beyond my wildest dreams. I didn’t just let him have his way with me – I encouraged him to completely view me as his. My moans begged for it. My open mouth and open ass screamed for it. Every turned-on inch of my body gave permission for it. At this point we both knew he controlled my orgasm, too. I was his loaded gun and he could pull the trigger any time he wanted. His thick finger exploring my ass shaft or his tongue invading my throat could have easily sent me over the edge at any moment, but Papa Bear wasn’t done playing. He wasn’t through showing me how he could dominate me on so many levels. Suddenly, his finger retreated from my hole and I immediately missed its presence – its power. I could tell he was amused as soon as I let out a disappointed whimper. He liked making me need him so much. His mouth left mine and again I profoundly felt the absence. Luckily, his muscled body still pressed against me, so I continued to be consumed by his presence. “You’re completely mine now, boy,” he said, peering intensely into my eyes. “I own you.” “Yes sir,” I instinctively shot back – even though we both knew his words had been a statement and not a question. “I make your sun rise and your sun set,” he added. “Yes sir,” I answered – again, merely to show him my obedience. Papa Bear rolled his monstrous pecs up and down just to give me a thrill. I watched, mesmerized, as the hard muscled beef tensed upward and then tumbled back down like huge waves lapping onto a wide sandy beach. The big man clearly knew his pecs could cause a muscle trance in any man he cared to show off for. My mouth was open wide in awe as I saw the hard muscle tense and release – controlled completely by its master, just as I was. It was the kind of perky bulging chest all pro bodybuilders dreamed of having and it was covered in his delicious salt-and-pepper fur. The word ‘seasoned’ popped into my head as I stared at the bulging mass that had been shaped into perfection over many years in the gym. I thought about all the incredible poundage that had been lifted day after day to make this man’s body pop out in such mouth-watering goodness. Every fiber of his frame seemed to be hard and massive, but then he’d tense different parts and they’d grow even bigger. The huge god raised his right biceps and flexed it hard near my face. “Taste the power, son,” he said – again it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. If your lips have never kissed warm, hard-as-hell muscle before then there is no possible way to explain the experience. It’s like trying to explain the ocean to someone who’s never seen it – until they stand on the edge and see the incredible expanse, the majestic beauty of water going on and on, and hearing waves roll in they’ll never fully understand. It’s the same when your mouth touches the expanse and majestic beauty of an older man’s huge rock-hard gun. It’s when you finally do it, that it all makes sense. When my lips pressed into his manly tight skin it was like a million little pins suddenly poked every part of my body in unified excitement. There’s something about a flexed biceps that reeks of power, masculinity, and pure beastly dominance. Both the worshipped and the worshipper feel this – it’s where the huge bodybuilder and the smaller plaything meet completely on the same level – and experience the same unleashed enjoyment. The bigger man knows his gun is a giant magnet and the other guy gladly yields to the unbreakable force that pulls him into the muscle. Papa Bear’s massive triceps looked like the hull of an ocean liner – hanging down all tensed and enormous. The blasting peak on top looked like a flesh covered mountain range. His upper arm was much bigger than my head. My face pressed against the hard skin and the only thing that filled my view was muscle. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and began kissing and licking the marbled wall before me. I swear I could feel the testosterone oozing out of every pore of the huge man’s body. It felt like my face was pressed against a bunch of bricks – or more like bricks covered in steel. If I could have bottled the man’s aroma I would have called it ‘Strength’ because that’s what he smelled like. Again, it was hard to explain, but you could sense the power of his arm and his entire body just by inhaling his sweetness deeply. He radiated confidence, security, and something akin to an unstoppable force. Papa Bear picked up on the fact that I was taking deep soothing breaths through my nose so I could savor his masculine scent. “Let’s take you to smell central, boy,” he said and I could tell by something in his voice that he was smiling. Again, a big paw grabbed the entire back of my head and, pushing my face harder into his skin, it slid me across the huge biceps and into his hairy, sweaty, muscled pit. The man clearly knew it was exactly what I would want. Even the bristles of hair in his arm cave seemed hard and powerful. I immediately took a deep breath and my body shook with excitement as I inhaled his powerful bear musk. It was the perfume of a Greek god – a mixture of sweat, muscle, manliness, and something that could only be described by the word ‘security.’ I could have stayed pressed into that man-cavity for the rest of my life. I let my tongue dart out many times just to lap up some of the delicious taste of pure masculinity. I was sure my own muscles would grow a tad bigger just from licking some of his testosterone-laden pits. I also had a feeling I’d be sprouting some thicker hair all over my body, as well. It was obvious that Papa Bear liked having his pits cleaned – he was grunting and moaning even louder than before. This only made me want to bury my face deeper into the pit. I started kissing, licking, and sucking his underarm like I was some kind of muscle pig. “Gotta fucking kiss you again, man,” he grunted suddenly. It was as if Papa Bear could no longer restrain himself for some reason. He quit flexing his gun, pulled my face from his pit, and then grabbed me roughly by the ass and lifted me into the air. He slid his hands down my legs – encouraging me to wrap them around his waist. He latched onto my thighs tightly as he walked towards the wall. Once he had my back firmly against the solid plaster he let go of my legs. My body was held in place merely from the force of his powerful body pressing into me. It was difficult to breathe, but I didn’t care. Being surrounded by all of his muscle was pure heaven. He brought his hands up to my cheeks and then pressed his lips against mine. I had thought he had kissed me roughly before, but all of that was child’s play compared to this super hyped-up suction kiss. Immediately, it felt as if Papa Bear’s tongue was going to push my head through the wall. Even this particular muscle in his mouth seemed to be super powerful. His hands squeezed my head tightly and his body pressed me against the wall even harder. Again, Papa Bear suddenly pulled his face from mine and spoke as if his life depended on his next move. “Gotta be inside you, son,” he growled, and I swear I almost came. While keeping my body in place simply by pinning it between the wall and his huge chest, Papa Bear reached down and latched his big hands on both of my ass cheeks. He then started pulling them apart – opening me wide. Soon, I felt the stone-like tip of his thick long cock press into my hole. People often forget that a man’s dick is a muscle, too. It needs to be worked out and trained just like a biceps or a quad. Papa Bear had clearly been pumping his tool for many, many years. It was powerful beyond words. The fat mushroom head felt like it could puncture steel. He pulled his chest back a little and let my entire weight fall down on the hard head. I sat there anticipating some kind of loud pop when he plunged into me, but Papa Bear had a different plan. He let my body sit on top of his hard tool for a while – teasing me and making my body ache for his manly invasion. It was only when I began to whimper like a begging puppy – in need of his plowing – that he finally acknowledged me. “You’re mine now, son. You wanted to be dominated tonight – controlled – and now you’ve met your master. I’m gonna make your every thought and desire come true. I’m gonna make you wish I was inside of you twenty-four-seven.” This was exactly what I had wanted when I called the man earlier that week. I had said I needed him to dominate me, but what I had really wanted was to give myself up to him in an orgasmic offering. I wanted to submit myself in a way that would please both of us beyond anything we’d ever experienced before. We were about to meld into one. Very soon I would be like one of his huge muscles hanging all over different parts of his body. It would register to him that I was another human – but I would be part of the big man – something wrapped around his cock to give him pleasure. I had no way of stopping what was coming – even if I had wanted to. I was his gift to open – his man to plow, as he wanted. I could feel every part of my being giving itself to him – my ass, my thoughts, my desires, and my love. I needed him inside me in the same way I needed air. It wasn’t something I constantly thought about, but once I was awakened to the need it consumed me completely. It was clear that Papa Bear understood how I felt – and not just because he was being paid. He sensed my devotion – my total submission. I also got the feeling that he gave himself to me in the same way – becoming my protector, my rock, and my muscle guardian. Of course, my brain kept saying he’s a paid hustler and he’s just good at his job – don’t think he’s fallen for you. But my heart kept saying the man had desire for me that went way beyond just doing a good job. When his cock head burst through the gate of my love chute it was like the most dramatic part of some kind of celestial symphony or the highlight of a magnificent firework’s extravaganza. We both moaned in unison and then I gasped out loudly as my body slid down his long thick tool. To be filled by a strong muscular man is such a reward – such a real-life fantasy coming true. But to be filled completely while being held in the air – strong arms holding you and huge legs supporting the weight, and a giant chest pressing into you – now, that is beyond heaven. Being connected to an older powerful muscle bear in such an intimate way could be fodder for all the jerk-off moments of the rest of an entire football team’s lives. As wonderful as it was to be in this position there was also part of me that wished I could be across the room watching it. To see this big man impaling me while he easily held my body in the air would have been a picture I wanted in my mind forever. And then Papa Bear did a strong pelvic thrust that sent my body upward and I slid back down his tool with a big smack at the bottom. It was as if his crotch now controlled everything. The friction made in my ass from his move was almost too much to handle. I was afraid of spewing. It took all of my concentration to not unload my entire cum-bank in one huge explosion. The big man clearly sensed this and knew how to prevent it. “You cum when I say you can, son. And only then,” he growled as he continued to bounce me up and down on his cock with successive thrusts. The man was powerful enough to easily lift me in the air and keep me there for a long time. I also had the feeling I hadn’t begun to see the total strength in his body. But it was his intention – no, his complete acceptance that he could control my orgasm - that excited me beyond what I could have ever imagined. My body instantly obeyed his command. I immediately knew my jacked-beyond-belief cock would await his ‘okay’ before it exploded – no matter how close he edged me towards release. Papa Bear, of course, controlled the tsunami that was building within me. My release was his and only his to control. Every fiber of my being submitted itself to him. He realized this fact. He sensed how his words had made my cock obey – instantly. He let out a loud grunt – continued to thrust his crotch even more – and pulled my body away from the wall. He walked us both to the middle of the room – my body still impaled on his strong tool and still bouncing up and down in response to his powerful thrusts. Every time I came slamming down on his cock after his crotch jerks would send me upwards I’d moan loudly – uncontrollably egging him on. Papa Bear began to air fuck me even harder – grabbing me at the waist so he could enhance the bouncing of my body with his powerful arms. I would slam down on his tool even harder – giving him more pleasure than the time before. My clenched ass was basically his tool for getting off – as if it was just a coincidence I was a human being. The goal of the entire pounding process was to give himself the kind of release fit for a huge muscle god. I was his orgasmic plaything and the pleasure I was getting and would receive just happened to be a by-product of his own powerful titanic release. I had ceased to be the client – I was the means to an end, a very big, pleasurable end. Meanwhile, I just enjoyed the ride - groping his big hard arms as he easily manhandled my body up and down on his big tool. Seeing Papa Bear’s body getting jacked even more as he pumped me up and down and in and out was like porn heaven. A light sheen of sweat now covered his entire bulging body – only enhancing the size of his rock-hard muscles. My giant elder dominator was now in his own world. He, of course, still knew I was there – still knew his job was to please me – but he also knew getting himself off was what I wanted most. My much-needed orgasm was important – but not nearly as important as seeing Papa Bear pump out a testosterone-laden eruption of his powerful juice. I wanted to be filled with his sweetness – and then I wanted to hear his command allowing me to cum. My body was now full of boiling man honey – fueled completely by Papa Bear’s muscles and confident attitude. I was a dam ready to burst – begging to explode – and he was the superman capable of busting through. The bucking of the big man’s hips increased to what seemed like super sonic speed. My ass was being pounded heavier than it had ever been before. I tightened my sphincter just to give him more pleasure. At the same time I continued to run my hands all over his tensed bulging biceps – his muscles causing me to get excited way beyond what I had ever imagined possible. I was bouncing up and down so hard I was afraid I was going to break something. The big man’s moans were getting louder and louder and I could tell he was close to his titanic eruption. His body was tense all over and this caused giant veins to pop out everywhere. He looked like some Greek god pulling down the pillars of a huge temple. I could feel the intensity of my on orgasm building just from the way his body now looked. Suddenly, his moans stopped and his body tightened up even more. He slammed me down to the base of his cock and kept me there with a strong grip – and then he bellowed loudly. “Cum, boy!” Happier words had never reached my ears. My body obeyed its master immediately. A volcanic eruption shot forth from my cock – sending a huge blast of cum into the air, which then rained down and splattered against his huge pecs with a loud smack. As I continued to send out volley after volley of my warm seed, the big man’s giant tool pulsed strongly in my ass and then spewed forth like some kind of untapped fire hydrant. I was instantly filled with a hot wet lava-like sensation. It definitely felt like some dam has been burst – wave after wave of his love juice shot into me with a fierceness that was unfathomable. The loud beast-like grunts that accompanied each thrust of his hard-as-hell cock added even more pleasure to the moment. Again, Papa Bear was lost in his orgasm. I was now only the little plaything that was getting him off. I’m sure it registered to the giant elder man that I was there, but it didn’t matter – his body was so on fire with his ejaculation he pounded me like a heavyweight boxer taking out his frustrations on a punching bag. Each thrust of his crotch sent his massive rod deeper into my love canal and this caused me to cum even harder. The strong elder man started to walk around the room as his rod sent a few last missile spurts into my body. My own still-hard cock continued to gurgle out cum – even though I was sure my body had never been emptied the way it just had. “Fuck . . . I’m so jacked, boy! Take a look at all that power, babe,” Papa Bear said, and I immediately knew he was staring at our reflection in the giant mirror on the far wall of my dining room, since he had stopped all movement. The first time you stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon you immediately understand your own insignificance in the scheme of the universe in a new way. At the same, time, however you realize you are part of the beauty of the cosmos, as well. Seeing my small frame being held in the gargantuan pumped-to-hell arms of this super Gramps caused the same exact reaction in me. I was being held by a force . . . a power . . . a beast so big it made me feel like a tiny insect. At the same time, however, the enormous man’s strength empowered me in a way that was hard to describe. It was like his testosterone was infectious. Because his herculean body was so easily holding me, I felt safer, more secure, and more supported than ever before. Papa Bear was, indeed, ‘jacked’ beyond belief. I could see why the elder man had been so pleased. Muscles didn’t just bulge out all over his body – they were more like some morphed-up 3-D version of the man being projected onto an immense IMAX screen. My entire upper torso was puny compared to his granite-like massive beach ball sized biceps. His gun looked like he had just finished some three-hour lifting session – focused only on his arms. For a second I actually thought the man’s powerful biceps and triceps would make the Grand Canyon look lame. This senior man had held me aloft for so long I had forgotten that most people are not able to carry grown humans around for that amount of time. And there was no evidence of the man being even the least bit tired. I was still impaled by his stiff rod and it was obvious, from the pulsations below that Papa Bear was turned on by our reflection. He noticed that I was staring at the huge hard peak of his arm, so he let go of my ass with one hand – easily holding me in place with the other – and then balled up his fist, and flexed the biceps at his side. “I’ve always been big, boy,” he said – in a low growl-like voice – like he was starting a fairy-tale story for a child. “My mom said she could feel me flexing in her womb. The doctor said I came out already chiseled like a tiny gymnast – a six-pack and bulging biceps. No one knew what made me so muscled – they said it must have been lucky genetics. The medical profession was a little taken aback by howmuch weight I gained those first few months and how I skipped the baby ‘fat’ period and went straight to being stacked. They said I used to crawl under my playpen and bench it up and down before I could even walk. My dad said I liked to crush and bend things before I could even sit up. He said he could tell that my unformed brain still understood that I needed to work out. At three years old I could whoop the asses of my two brothers – who were six and eight. They said I used to pick them up and toss them across the room and then stand over them flexing my body. I don’t really remember that, but I do remember always being stronger than my friends and other kids in my grade. When I was six years old I could beat my dad at arm wrestling. At my elementary school there was this big burly janitor named Stefan, who noticed how big and strong I was and encouraged me to start lifting weights. He had a basic set of dumbbells and barbells at his office in the boiler room. I would go there every afternoon and he’d show me the correct way to lift for maximum growth and strength. He couldn’t believe how quickly I caught on or how fast I grew. When I left for junior high he said I was stronger than most college dudes and I was already bulging through my clothes so much that many teachers thought I was wearing multiple layers. The day Principal Donovan told me to take off my sweatshirt because he thought I was wearing padding was the best. I slowly pulled the thing off and then bounced my beefy pecs a few times followed by a few flexes of my arms. Old man Donovan looked like he had seen a ghost. He turned red, moved his clipboard down to his crotch, and stammered as he told me to put my shirt back on. Is my little story making you happy boy?” “Yes sir. Very much, sir,” I whispered back as I looked up to his bearded manly face. “Good, I like it when you’re happy,” he said, smiling down at me. “I bumped into Mr. Donovan about twenty years later at the supermarket. His open-mouthed stare and wide eyes made it clear he was shocked – and pleased – by how big I’d grown. He had to actually crane his neck back to look me in the face and I was about twice the size of him. We chatted for a while and one thing led to another. Soon, I was at his house - squeezing his face between my pecs, crushing his head between my biceps and forearm, and compressing all the air out of his body between my tree-trunk sized thighs. I’d never seen a guy so into being dominated – well, up until you. He’d beg me to shake hands with him and squeeze so tight that I worried I’d crush his bones. It was wild. He didn’t want sex and I was shocked that he never spurted – not one time while I was there. But he told me when I was leaving he had never been with someone so huge and strong. He said it would be a night he would never forget and I have the feeling that old man Donovan still thinks about me and our time together and busts out huge wads that bring him close to blacking out. “I know the feeling,” I said, smiling. “Yeah, you do,” he said, still holding me in the air. “When I was nine there was this kid named Jared who got his mother to make us superhero costumes. He insisted I wear the Superman outfit and I don’t even remember what character he was. It wasn’t important to Jared, either; he just wanted me to dress up as Superman. He then insisted we wrestle, even though I outweighed him by over a hundred pounds. He was groping my muscles big time as we wrestled and I started to get my first major boner from showing off. At one point I had him pinned to his bed and he whispered in my ear, ‘Lift me over your head.’ My cock shot rock hard at the thought and a few seconds later I had his smaller body easily in the air – held aloft by my bulging arms as if he weighed nothing. I started walking around the room and as soon as we both got a look at ourselves in the mirror over his dresser we simultaneously shot through puberty. We both busted out our first boy wads – dumping major amounts of hot cum into our costumes. I couldn’t believe how fucking huge and strong I looked holding him in the air. My arms didn’t drop even a fraction of an inch as I spewed my torrential load. Jared’s body continued to flop around in my strong hands long after my explosion had ended and that’s the first time I realized my supersized muscles had a mysterious power over some fellas. At first, I worried about what my penis had just done, thinking I was sick or something, but then I remembered hearing some older boys talking about ‘getting off’ and I quickly figured out this is what they meant. On top of that, it felt so freaking awesome I knew it must be something good. We both spewed about four more times that night, from me curling him, doing push-ups with him on my back, and a lot more, but nothing got us both off as much as each time I lifted him over my head. Jared needed little time to refuel his body – especially when I would lift his body up and down, easily using him as my boy-bell. When his orgasm would finally end he’d look at my reflection in the mirror and say something like, ‘Toss me on the bed, Superman.’ It was such an incredible night. “I’d love to see you in a superhero costume sometime,” I said, smiling. “We can make that happen, “ he said, just as happy as I was at the idea. “High school was better than I ever could have imagined. I was the biggest guy on campus. Who knew so many horny athletes would dig my muscles so much. I lasted two weeks on the wrestling team, but Coach Williams told me I couldn’t do it anymore after that because I was just too strong and too big. Nobody wanted to practice with me and he knew other schools would swear I was in my twenties. At first I was pretty upset, but then Coach told me I could use the Senior Gym any time I wanted. A freshman in the Senior Gym was unheard of and they didn’t like it one bit - that is, until I came in, stripped down to my shorts and started lifting. I curled with one arm what the strongest guy could bench – so they immediately became submissive little gymbos trying to win my attention and affection. Ryan Smith, the captain of the football team, seemed to adore me the most. He constantly begged me to show off my strength – lifting benches loaded with ten guys, hoisting up the back of some car, and picking up his tight jock body with one hand and holding him overhead. That last feat used to please him the most. That’s pretty much when I started learning exactly how to please fellas. Guys would invite me for sleepovers and insist we play gladiator or superheroes, just like Jared. They always wanted to be the bad guy and have me use my powers to subdue them. It’s when I learned to role-play. Can’t lie, son, I got off on it, too.” “How could you not?” I replied. “Exactly. College is when I got into bodybuilding and dominated the amateur circuit in my state. It was fun for a while and I loved having auditoriums full of screaming fans, but there was something about one-on-one muscle worship that got my juices flowing more than anything else in the world. To have a smaller guy begging me to flex, needing me to show off, and wanting my muscles more than even air, itself, was like the biggest adrenaline rush I’d ever felt. Suddenly, I wasn’t just building huge muscles for myself anymore, I was doing it to please guys that would never get the chance to know what being big felt like. I viewed it kind of like charity work – helping dudes live out their fantasies. That’s also about the time I met Doc. I was about twenty-two and I literally bumped into this wall of muscle at the gym one day. When I glanced up from where I was knocked down on the ground I beheld a strapping white-haired behemoth. He smiled down at me, said ‘sorry little fella,’ held out his hand and told me everyone called him ‘Doc.’ My feet came off the floor when he pulled me upward and I had never felt a grip so tight – or seen paws so big. Doc reached around and squeezed the back of my neck hard and told me I was a cute little man. It was the wildest thing – every time he referred to me as small my cock pulsed harder than it already was and I felt giddy as a schoolgirl with a first crush. “How old was Doc?” I asked, and Papa Bear smiled, knowing older muscle men turned me on. “Older than I am now. He was probably sixty-seven or sixty-eight and built like a tank. He wasn’t a pretty-man bodybuilder – no, he was a sexy-as-fuck powerlifter who was thicker than a building. I was bigger than most men, but he was a giant compared to me. I followed him around the gym like a puppy that day – hoping to learn anything I could, but secretly hoping I could win his favor or something more. It was the weirdest experience for me – to be on the other side of muscle adoration. Suddenly, I wasn’t the alpha. I was the smaller guy begging for a show or some kind of attention. When he was finally done with his strong-as-fuck put-me-to-shame lifting he grabbed his bag and headed toward the door. He turned around near the exit, looked at me, and only said, ‘Heel boy.’ I was at his side in mere seconds and I never left it. Doc trained me for twenty years. He taught me things like how to make a man cum by lifting him with one hand around his neck and how to give a man maximum pleasure while fucking him in mid-air.” “I’ve had first-hand experience of how well you learned that, sir,” I quickly said. “Indeed you have,” Papa Bear replied – smiling down at me. “What happened to Doc?” I asked – and I swear I saw Papa Bear’s eyes mist up a little when he spoke. “The man was lifting until age 90. He was still huge and powerful. Five days after his ninetieth birthday he died of a massive heart attack. Your Papa Bear has never been so sad in all of his life, son. This is the man that molded me more than anyone else. He helped me to zoom beyond what I thought were growth and strength plateaus. He also taught me how to be as gentle as a kitten and how that can be as much of a turn-on as tremendous power. Doc always said his proudest day was when I finally lifted more weight than him. Granted, this wasn’t until I was about thirty-four. The man just never seemed to stop growing or getting stronger. But the day I out lifted him he did something I never expected – he let me plow him. It was like finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow – the big man offering his ass to me. The man was so big and strong I was able to go wild and fuck him with all of my power – and that pleased him more than either of us expected. That night, while we lay in bed after having sex for the fourth time, he looked into my eyes and said, “You’re the alpha now, kid. I’m still the boss – just because of my age – but you’re the top man. I’ve plowed so many asses – including your own – it will be good to be submissive for a while. Who knows, maybe I’ll get stronger than you again one day, but I doubt it. My kid’s growing up to be a fucking beast and one day men will cream in their pants simply because you bent your arm in a tight t-shirt.” “That, alone, can make me shoot,” I said. “Son, you squirt when I only bounce my pecs once,” he said teasingly, but we both knew he was right on the money. “Simply because of their size, sir” I replied and then asked, “Aren’t you getting tired of holding me?” “Not at all, son,” he answered. “As a matter of fact, I completely forgot about it.” “Just how strong are you, Papa Bear?” I asked. “How strong do you want me to be?” he teasingly shot back. “The strongest,” I quickly said. “Done,” he replied and jiggled my body up and down in his hands as if to emphasize the point. “I need to tell you something, son. And it might make you a little mad, so I apologize in advance.” “Okay . . .” I said, tentatively, not sure where the conversation was headed. “I’m not a real hustler,” Papa Bear said. “What?” I asked, very confused. “About four weeks ago you were very drunk at The Eagle. Do you remember?” he asked, referring that favorite haunt of mine. “Yes,” I replied, knowing exactly what night he was talking about. “You were at the bar pouring your heart out to Sam, the bartender – going on about how stressful work was and how you didn’t have time for dating. You told Sam you wished you could just find someone you could pay to have sex with – someone huge and older. Those were your only conditions. Do you remember,” Papa Bear asked. “I do,” I again replied. I had been drowning my sorrows about another ended romance and how there didn’t seem to be any true alphas in the world. “I had been watching you all night, kid, but you were too drunk to notice. When you left I asked Sam about you and he said you were one of the nicest guys around. He also said you made lousy choices when it came to men,” the elder big man said, laughing. “That’s last part is pretty accurate,” I replied. “Well, two nights later I asked Sam, who happens to be a good friend, to slip you a fake flyer I had created the next time he saw you. I knew what you were looking for, so I put a picture of my biceps on the paper, along with the invitation to have a true alpha make all your dreams come true. A day later I was ecstatic when you called,” he said. “I’m really sorry and I’d understand if you didn’t want to see me again.” “What?” I asked, honestly surprised by his words. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” “Well I did lie to you,” he answered, “and I kind of took advantage of the situation.” “Yes, yes you did. However, it didn’t feel like the sex or the conversations were ever a lie,” I said. “No, all of that was real . . . and the best sex I’ve ever had,” Papa Bear added. “Same for me,” I answered back, “but I do have one important question.” “What’s that?” Papa Bear asked and I could tell he was nervous about what was going to come. “Where’s my money? I paid you a lot of money for two visits,” I said, smiling at him. “I put it in a safe place,” he answered. “I was hoping we might use it one day for something fun . . . like a vacation.” “Or maybe a honeymoon,” I replied and the smile on big Papa Bear’s face was priceless. In response he bounced his monstrous pecs and squeezed my ass tightly.
  8. Michael gazed in shocked awe as he watched the insanely loaded bar smoothly go down towards Saul’s mammoth chest and then swiftly back into the air as if it were nothing for the big man’s huge arms to lift it. Michael had never seen pectoral muscles so humongous – or so obviously packed with hard solid meat. Saul’s chest looked to be about four times as thick as his mid-section. Michael was pretty sure the elder man’s chest could stop almost anything speeding towards it. The numerous plates on the ends of the bar might as well have been the size of small cars. The bar bowed from the pressure. Michael had attempted to do the math in his head as Saul added weights on the bar, but it had become too much to keep up with. The enormous senior man didn’t seem to be struggling with the thing at all – as a matter of fact he seemed to be enjoying every second of the many reps he was effortlessly performing, as if he were trying to impress his new client. The younger, smaller man could not begin to fathom this kind of strength. “How many of me would equal what you are benching, Saul?” “Probably six or seven of you, Michael.” “No normal human is supposed to be able to lift that much. You must be from Mount Olympus.” “Well there aren’t many that can.” “Especially those at your age.” “Do I detect some ageism? Gray hair doesn’t mean feeble, Michael. It means years of building and years of getting stronger. Why can’t a man in his late fifties – soon to be sixty - be really strong?” “He can, Saul, I’m just saying it’s not normal. God, I think I would need a crane to move that thing.” “I’m second in my weight division for benching, but I’m first in many other competitions. You’ll see my name on about eight plaques over there on the wall. I love being strong. Lifting heavy things is a big turn on for me. I like to watch the young whipper-snappers freak out when they see this gray haired older man picking up something that boggles their mind and then lifting it over my head with no problem. And then when I do numerous repetitions it really sends them over the edge. Don’t know why it intimidates guys so much, but their reactions always get me very excited.” “I can see that. Your sweats don’t hide much, big man. As a matter of fact, you probably don’t have a piece of clothing that could even begin to hide any part of your hugeness. You could wear a quilt and still look huge.” “Yeah, when I lift I have a perpetual hard-on. I can’t help it. There’s just something about pushing all this iron up into the air that gets me going. It’s like moving mountains. I love the way it makes me feel so powerful. And then there’s the shocked gazes I get that add a lot to my pleasure. Lots of guys are into strength; you know . . . they just don’t admit it. When I lift I can immediately sense a strength whore within the entire gym. The clues are salivating, bug eyes, gaping mouths, and quick exits to bathroom stalls. But I’m not the only one sporting some wood. Your giant Redwood is paying homage to my lifting, too. Surely, that huge thing of yours is illegal in some parts of the world. In an effort to even up the score, I’ll say that no man is supposed to be swinging a bat the size of yours – especially a man as small as you. Speaking of cranes, young man – that thing looks like it could lift a lot!” “What can I say? I’m just a freak of nature. And there’s no way it could stay calm watching you lift so much weight.” “A freak, huh, just like me. But, really, I don’t consider either of us freaks. I’d say we’ve been blessed. And I’m definitely going to need you to share your blessing with me sometime. Now, I’ve lost count. What rep is this?” “I’m not sure, but I know you’ve pushed that over-loaded bar into the air more than fifty times and you’re not even sweating. You might as well be lifting the back of some small car.” “I can do that for you, if you want me to, Michael. It doesn’t even have to be a small car.” “Fuck, can you really?” “Yeah, I can. I can bench it or deadlift it, too. It’s your call. It would be my pleasure to show off for you. I usually get so excited when I do it I end up squirting a big load. There I am, holding the back of the car in the air and I’m shaking like I’m having some kind of seizure. It’s hot as hell. I get the feeling you’d have the same reaction. So, back to business before one of us has an accident - do you understand the concept of benching, now?” “Yes. How could I not given your demonstration? And I even remember that it’s good for the chest. Mainly because I see that your humongous chest has now swollen to the size of my queen size bed.” “Right. And now, let’s show you some one arm curls. We want to help you build hard biceps, like mine.” “That’s not possible, big guy. Your arms are bigger than my upper body.” “Maybe so, but we can still get them bigger. You go to that end of the weight rack. Grab the ones that are ten pounds. I’ll grab the ones over here that are one hundred. Okay, now keep your back straight, like this, while you bring up your hands – twisting a little at the end. You want to get a good pump.” Michael’s face went a little white when the hundred pound weights swung upward and Saul’s arms bulged. The younger man hadn’t been prepared for how gigantic the guns could actually swell. It was the most glorious sight that Michael had ever seen. The blood in his body all rushed to his massive rod and he became light headed. He blurted out the first thing that came into his head. “Oh hell, look at your arms popping out like blimps taking off from the ground. Those things are so huge!” “It’s one of the advantages of lifting such heavy things. I like the way big arms scream how strong a guy is, don’t you. Enormous biceps surrounded by super tight sleeves is like the best eye candy ever, isn’t it? I have an idea, put your weights down, Michael, and come stand behind me. Grab hold of my arms as I lift and you’ll feel what the biceps does when it’s curling. There’s no better way of learning than ‘hands-on’ activities.” “Won’t that look a little weird?” “Who cares? No one’s going to say anything. They all know I could toss them across the gym if I wanted to. Besides, most of the guys in this place would love to grab hold of my huge guns, themselves. I have dudes coming up to me all the time asking if they could feel my arms or would I please show off my strength by lifting them. You into being lifted, Michael?” “Hell yes, although no one’s ever picked me up into the air before.” “We’ll have to change that very soon. That’s it, get behind me. Now, reach up and grab my biceps.” “Holy hell, it’s like touching granite. That’s not skin, it’s stone!” “Wait until I lift the weight…” “Oh fuck! It swells up even bigger and ten times harder. Like I said before, you’re not normal. You gotta be a superhero or something.” “I can be a superhero for you, Michael. If that’s what you like. How about you call me your Thor, or, better yet, your Incredible Hulk.” “Except you won’t have to grow when you’re mad, Saul, because you’re already gigantic. How tall are you?” “Six seven and a half.” “Damn. And how much do you weigh?” “Three hundred and ninety pounds.” “That means you’re almost more than three of me, Saul! You’re more than twenty-five years older than me and, yet, you dwarf me in every way.” “Not every way, Michael. That thing between your legs would beat mine in a wrestling match. I think it could be two big men in a wrestling match. Why don’t you pull in a little closer to my body, bud, and let an old man feel that hard tool. Aw yeah, you’re short enough for that thing to fit perfectly up in my ass cheeks. That feels nice, Michael, real nice. The only thing that would feel better is if it were much deeper.” “Okay, Saul, quit squeezing your cheeks or we’re going to have an accident. The combination of that and your arms swelling up enormously hard is enough to do me in. I’m going to have to take a break.” “I think this is a good time to stop, anyway, Michael. I’d like to go get that coffee you offered and get to know you better. Who knows, you might even find me charming.” “Hugely charming, Saul . . . hugely charming.” Michael stepped away from the big man – giving his arms another quick squeeze before he did. The big man smiled and emitted an appreciative moan. Saul replaced the weights he’d been lifting with a loud thud that caused the entire rack to shake. The smaller man could not fathom being able to lift those things with one hand. He barely could lift a hundred pounds with both hands! He stared at the big man as Saul re-racked the ten-pound weights, too. The larger man noticed the look on his new friends face. “My size doesn’t intimidate you does it, Michael?” “Hell no! It turns me on as much as your strength does. It’s like being next to a giant.” “All my life I’ve been called a giant freak. I hit six feet when I was in seventh grade. I towered over most of my teachers. The size of my feet and hands made most of the grown men in my school insanely jealous. Most of the other kids were scared of me. I could have made the best bully, but I was just too nice. I liked befriending people – not harassing them. It wasn’t until I started fooling around with other boys in the ninth grade that I realized my size and power could make me popular. I had no idea other guy’s loved big, strong men so much. That year was the first time someone asked me to lift them. It was a friend of mine who had come over to spend the night. We were down in our basement and out of the blue he asked me to grab him by the armpits and lift him in to the air. I instantly shot rock hard. I also knew it would be easy as hell. He said he knew I could do it, because I was twice the size of him and he’d seen me lifting in the school gym. He didn’t weigh anything so I hoisted him effortlessly. I was actually quite surprised by how light he was. The dude came on the spot. There he was like a rag doll flopping around in my arms – with the biggest grin on his face I had ever seen. I held him in the air until he fully recovered and when I put him down on the ground, he just looked up at me and said thanks. We spent the rest of ninth grade and most of tenth with him trying to think of new ways for me to show off my strength and have him cum. We were both sad as hell when his parents announced they were moving. I looked him up about two years ago – he’s married now with four kids. That didn’t stop him, however, from taking me down to his basement and busting out a bunch of wads with me lifting him in new ways.” “Size and power turn me on more than anything, Saul. I’ve known a few strong guys in my life, but no one comes close to you. A guy showing off his power is the best foreplay ever. You’re like a wet dream come true for me. I’m afraid you’ve set the bar so high – not to mention with too much weight – that no one will ever come close to matching you. And, what about you? What gets your motor going?” “To be completely honest, Michael, I’m a true size queen - so the answer is easy. Giant cock. I’m the most powerful bottom you’ll ever meet and my bulges give a guy a lot to play with as he pounds me. My ass can milk a guy until he’s ready to pass out from exhaustion.” By this point the two men were in the locker room and Michael allowed his enormous hard rod to openly twitch back and forth in his sweats simply from what Saul was sharing. There was nothing Michael loved more in the world than an older muscled bottom. There was just something about plowing a muscled gray-haired man that made the younger guy feel more alive than ever. He was reveling in the fact that he had met Saul when the bigger man suddenly bent down and gave him a hard aggressive kiss on the lips, his tongue exploring Michael’s mouth like some kind of wild animal on sexual overdrive. Finally, the giant pulled away and Michael opened his eyes. “I just needed you to know how I felt.” “I can make it so you walk funny, tomorrow, big man. I know how to swing my giant bat like a pro. I’ve got the size and the skills. You’ll forget about every other man you’ve ever been with once you’re in the sack with me. I could make you the happiest giant on earth.” “You had me at ‘walk funny tomorrow.’ I have a feeling I can return the favor, Michael, by showing off my strength and muscles every chance I get. Let’s begin now by letting you see what made my friend in ninth grade so happy.” Saul slipped his hands under the arms of Michael and lifted him into the air as if he weighed no more than a jacket. Michael let out a soft whimper of approval and then cooed like a little baby. His massive cock was now pressing against his sweats like he had a bazooka stuffed down there. The big man held the other guy in the air for a while; just to emphasize his strength even more. Michael began to worry that he was going to shoot a big wad right there and then, but before that could happen, Saul placed him back on the ground. The big man had clearly gauged how much the younger one could take. He looked down at the shorter man. “It’s like you’ve got a third leg, little man. That is simply mind-blowing.” “My friends in high school used to call me ‘Tripod.’ I finally reached a point where I stopped trying to hide the huge thing. I always cause a big scene if I get turned on in public. Fathers actually cover their children’s eyes when they see me, but most of them don’t turn away.” “I have a feeling that massive things is going to open me up in ways I can’t even imagine, Michael.” “I promise I’ll be gentle . . . well, at first, anyway.” “I’ll take that coffee now, Michael. And then I’ll take a nice dinner. After that, I’m hoping you’ll offer me a hard plowing. And when we take breaks I can lift heavy things for you and let you grope hard muscle.”
  9. From across the street Javier could see the big elder Hank sitting in the restaurant at a table by the front window. Even from this distance it was obvious the guy was huge. Javier could see that the senior muscleman had chosen to wear a white button down that had its buttons undone almost all the way down to his navel. This made his delicious, firm, mega-pecs visible without the aid of binoculars or any other enhanced glassware. The guy’s monstrous chest poked out so far Javier was pretty sure he could have slid his hand into the gaping chasm between the guy’s stomach and the shirt’s material without any problem. Hank probably couldn’t have buttoned the shirt even if he had wanted to. From this distance it was also obvious that the elder man’s biceps were about to burst through the sleeves. The strained cloth was stretched like tight skin. Javier didn’t think it was possible for his cock to get any harder – having thought about nothing all day except this date – but the thing managed to go much more rigid. The young man had to stop for a moment, adjust himself to relieve some of the pain, and then he crossed the street. When he entered the restaurant he had a few seconds to look at Hank without being noticed. Hank was the epitome of muscle daddy-ness. Huge was a word that seemed inadequate if trying to describe the older man. Enormous might be closer . . . or swole, but the plain and simple fact was Hank was the largest man Javier had ever met. The seams of the older man’s shirt looked to be stretched way beyond the bursting point. Javier was confused as to why the shirt didn’t just rip to shreds any time Hank moved. The sleeves of the button down bulged in that way that said, ‘no piece of clothing is going to hide the fact that my biceps are bigger than most men’s waists’ and the traps and shoulders ballooned to the point you would have thought the man was wearing super-sized pads for football. Javier walked slowly to the table and the giant man was up and placing his big hand on the young man’s lower back before a word was spoken. When he stood he dwarfed all the people around him – like Gulliver among the little people. The hand gently, but firmly, led Javier to the chair Hank’s other huge hand had pulled out for him. “Hello gorgeous, let me get your chair for you. I got here twenty minutes early just because I was so excited about being with you. Fuck, boy, you look sexier than an entire college football team bending over nude to grab their ankles. If this weren’t a respectable establishment I’d slam you down on this table and have my way with you right here and right now. Oh shit, sorry dude. It’s probably too soon for me to say something like that, isn’t it. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t I? It’s just that you turn me on so much.” During this entire exchange, Javier had sat down and Hank had basically lifted the chair and the young guy a few inches off the floor to place him back under the table. The big man had picked Javier up as if he had weighed nothing. It was so surreal to be manhandled in such a nonchalant way. It was clear that Hank used his strength and his muscles as easily as most people might flip on a light switch or wave to a friend. Hank also took Javier’s cloth napkin, opened it, and then laid it across the younger man’s lap – making sure the back of his hand brushed hard against Javier’s fully engorged cock. Hank let out an approving grunt-growl that clearly made two ladies sitting nearby get a little wet in their panties and turn dark red with lust. Hank noticed the desire in their eyes, the way both of them bit their lower lip and instantly recognized how smitten they’d become in mere seconds. As he moved back to his table he spoke to them. “Sorry ladies, this big muscle daddy is taken by that chair full of deliciousness right there. Isn’t he beautiful? I wouldn’t even let death, itself, keep me from him.” Javier felt his own face shoot red. Hank’s confidence and openness didn’t bother him – nor did Hank’s masculine way of talking – it was simply because he’d never been referred to as ‘deliciousness’ before and it actually turned him on. When Hank went to sit down, he actually just raised his leg a little and let it come up over the back of the chair – in that ‘I’m too big to do things normally’ kind of way. This simple move elicited a new, exciting feeling somewhere deep inside of Javier. The smaller man understood just how the two women sitting (and still staring) nearby felt – he was completely smitten with the huge Hank, as well. Hank was now sitting down with his napkin draped across his lap. “So, let me get a better look at you, little man. Hell yeah, you’re even more handsome than this afternoon. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a second, beautiful Javster. I was so worked up I thought about provoking a fight with some biker gang to work off a little steam, but I just unloaded about fifty bags of sand at the site by myself to get my body calm.” “Did that work, Hank?” “For about thirty minutes and then I was all hot and bothered again. Kind of like I’m feeling right now. Damn, boy, that face of yours could launch a hell of a lot more ships than that dame from Troy. You are one good looking dude.” “And you are one freaking huge, handsome dude, yourself, Hank.” “I guess you can see I’m not a big fan of buttons. I figure if you’re this huge why hide it, right? Besides, I love it when I catch people’s gaze glued to my giant chest just like yours is right now, Javier.” “Um . . . sorry about that, Hank.” “Why, son? What other reason is there to be this huge if it’s not to show off.” “I couldn’t agree more. Tell me about yourself, Hank.” “Well, I’m a freakishly massive grampa – having sired eight children with a lovely woman that passed away about ten years ago. I got married young, cause that’s what you did back then, but I always knew women weren’t my thing. I liked young bucks who were tight and small. I waited the appropriate amount of time after Sophia died, came out proudly to my children, and then started plucking gorgeous boys from the bars - literally, carrying them home, and making up for lost time. I’ve sowed my wild oats a few times over, kid, and now I like to romance cute things for weeks or months, driving them crazy with so much muscle foreplay that by the time we actually get in bed together their entire body had turned purple from the teasing and edging. The only thing I’m better at than sex is working out . . . oh, and business. I scare people at the gym when I lift, cause I’m so powerful and aggressive. Nobody expects a man as old as me to be so strong and big. I’m confident as shit, but I try not to be cocky.” “I like cocky, Hank. I, um, think a man as big as you can’t help but be cocky. And a man . . . uh, as handsome.” “My salt and pepper hair gets your pants swelling, does it, Jav?” “Yes sir, and a little wet.” “Then I bet the white dusting across my mammoth hard pecs is making your toes curl, isn’t it.” “Yes.” And then, to intensify the situation even more, Hank leaned back, raised his monstrous arms, linked his hands behind his head, which caused his shirt to open even more – revealing more of the deep chasm between his hefty mounds and allowing the light from the candle at the center of the table to enhance the silver fur beautifully splayed across his chest. Another woman sitting nearby with her husband let out an uncontrolled appreciative gasp and Javier quickly noticed all eyes on the restaurant were on the handsome man across the table. Two waiters crashed into each other because they were looking at the elder man instead of where they were going. Dishes fell to the ground and this caused Hank to chuckle a little – clearly he was used to this kind of adoration. He quickly lowered his arms before causing any more accidents. The man had gotten the response had had wanted – both from his date and the people surrounding him. There was an intoxicating sparkle in Hank’s eye as he continued to stare at Javier. That warm feeling that had covered he and his friends when they had been in the cave with the golden orb again surrounded the smaller man. “I think we were always destined to meet, little Jav.” “I think so, too, sir.” “It’s as if some magical force has brought us together.” “You have no idea, Hank.” “What’s that?” “Nothing. I just think its fate, that’s all.” “Well, in all my years of bar hopping I haven’t landed on anyone as cute as you, Javier, and I get the feeling I’ve never met anyone so into cured muscle beef. I may be a senior citizen, man, but I’ve got the body and stamina of a huge college football player. My libido is about even with someone that age, too. I’m thinking our next date might be you coming with me to the gym so you could watch me work out.” “Oh god, yes.” “Tomorrow, I do arms – if that interests you?” “Um . . . that’s my favorite part of a big muscle man.” “Really? Then you’ve probably noticed my twenty-seven inch guns, haven’t you?” “The minute I met you. They’re kind of hard to miss.” “Wait until you see them pumped up and covered in sweat. I can get ‘em as big as mountains.” “I think they’re already that big, sir.” “I’m really glad you’re an arm man, Javier, cause that’s my favorite part of my body to show off. Well, that and my chest. But you probably have already figured that out. Why don’t you reach over here and get a good feel of my mountain, Javy-boy.” “I don’t think that’s a very good idea . . . right here in the middle of the restaurant.” “Why not? No one’s gonna say anything. Hell, you’d be getting to do what everyone else in here wants to do. Come on, kid, let me show you what a real muscle daddy feels like.” Hank’s meaty hand swallowed Javier’s smaller hand resting on the table. He squeezed a little and then tugged the smaller man’s hand, arm, and body toward his side of the table. Hank smashed Javier’s hand against the biceps and then squeezed tightly. Javier immediately noticed that his hand was puny compared to the giant mound beneath it – but it was also puny compared to the big mitt holding it in place. Hardness was the only message that was getting to the younger man’s brain at that moment. He was baffled at how skin and muscle could feel so freaking much like stone or marble. Hank was squeezing so hard that there was a little pain, but Javier didn’t mind. He loved it. He had always dreamed of a strong muscle daddy squeezing different parts of his body to show off his strength. “It’s so hard.” “Hell yeah, it’s hard, Javier. My dad bought me my first weight set when I was ten years old. That means I’ve been lifting iron for over fifty-five years. That’s a lot of time for breaking down muscle and then re-building it – stronger, thicker, and harder. You’re feeling what hundreds of thousands of hours of cranking out reps can do to a man, especially a man that was already big to begin with and took to weightlifting like a fish in water. I could beat my Pop in arm wrestling by the time I was fourteen. I used to force him to flex his arm beside me when I was in high school just so I could see how much bigger my gun was compared to his - a grown man. I think he secretly loved having a son that was huge. He also liked to make me practice my wrestling moves with him, just so he could feel how strong I was. He loved it most when I would pick up his body and toss him onto the mat. By that point a fully grown man felt as light as a feather to me.” “Um . . . Hank, can I have my hand back. I can’t feel my fingers. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that people are staring.” Hank let out a loud chuckle and then looked around, grinning teasingly at the other patrons. He applied a little more manly pressure to his grip, which caused Javier to exhale loudly, and then the big man removed his huge paw from the little hand beneath. The younger man didn’t remove his aching palm and fingers immediately; he wanted to get one last memorable grope of the unyielding mound of rock-hard muscle beneath. When he did finally remove his hand he shook it out a few times before laying it in his lap. “Hope I didn’t squeeze too hard, little fella. I sometimes forget that everyone else is not as big and strong as I am.” “No . . . no, it’s fine. I . . . um . . . actually like it when a big man uses a powerful grip with me. I . . . uh . . . like a guy to remind me how strong he is. I hope I’m not over sharing. Maybe this is too much information for a first date. “Hell no, Javier, that’s not over sharing! That’s the kind of information this old man loves to hear. It’s first date conversation when you’re with a man like me. I like a guy that appreciates and desires a little pain. I hate having to be so delicate with some guys. One of my sure ways of knowing a guy is worth dating is when he says he likes bear hugs, getting his head squeezed by a biceps and forearm, and being trapped between two huge thighs. How do those sound to you, baby doll?” “It sounds so good that if we don’t steer the conversation in another direction, Hank, there’s going to be a mess under the table.” “Whoa, we can’t have you messing up those cute tight pants you’re wearing, now can we? Let’s look at the menu to get our mind off of all things muscle, shall we?” “That sounds like a good plan.” “We can do some of those more boring first-date questions to help us both calm down a little. So, tell me about your family. Brothers? Sisters?” “Um . . . no, I’m an only child and both my parents passed away a few years ago.” “Sorry to hear that, Javier.” “Thanks. I’ve got a few cousins that I’m kind of close to, but really my family consists of my two best friends from college, Jason and Michael. Michael’s in Atlanta and Jason’s in Los Angeles, but I see them pretty regularly. We’re pretty inseparable.” “Are Jason and Michael as cute as you?” “Oh, much more handsome…” “I don’t think that’s possible.” It was one of those moments when the conversation stopped and the two men stared intently at each other. The chemistry between them was so strong you could have cut it with a knife. Javier’s stomach did flip-flops every time Hank’s huge frame moved in any way – emphasizing his enormous muscle each time. To hear the big man say compliments was like icing on the cake. The smaller man had no idea, however, that the Tank was feeling the same way. The behemoth had already ticked off so many things he usually looked for when debating if there would be a second date, he figured the sexy Javier was destined to be much more than a long-term relationship. The young dude loved muscle, older dudes, a little pain, and groping big bodies. It didn’t get much better than that. “You better watch it, little man, I’m starting to like you. I’m starting to like you a lot.” “Then that makes two of us, big guy.” “Whoa, there, we’re taking the conversation back to something a little too stimulating, if you get my drift. Let’s try some more first-date questions. How did you, Jason, and Michael get so close?” “That’s actually a very funny story – and quite appropriate for tonight. We were all three assigned to the same three-bedroom apartment in college for our freshman year. On our first night of school we had all unpacked, shared a few beers, and then made up excuses to head out separately for the night. About thirty minutes later we all bumped into each other at a bar called ‘Daddy’s Gym.’ Don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it, but it’s pretty popular in D.C. It’s a place where muscle daddies and those that love them go to meet. The three of us had individually been planning for a long time to go there as soon as we hit college. We ended up sitting at the bar and sharing our fantasies about older musclemen and bonding beyond belief. We’ve been family ever since.” “Man, the muscle gods put the three of you in the right place at the right time, didn’t they?” “Kind of like this morning, when I passed your worksite.” “Yeah, just like that. So, how long have you known you loved older muscle?” “It goes back to the man that sent me through puberty – when I was about eleven years old. I probably knew something about myself before then, but it was confirmed in a big way. I had a neighbor that was an amateur bodybuilder and strongman competitor. He was probably in his forties at the time, a bachelor that lived alone in the house beside us. Now I know he was gay, but I didn’t know of such things at the time. My second floor bedroom overlooked his back deck and one day I glanced out and caught him working out. I sat there mesmerized – watching his bulging sweat-covered muscles as he lifted weights, stretched, and then practiced some strength feats. At one point – about thirty minutes into his workout – he started doing some curls to work his biceps. As soon as my hormone-crazy body saw his big arms swell even larger I exploded like the final fireworks display for a Fourth of July celebration. It was such a powerful ejaculation that I actually passed out. I was only gone for a few seconds and when I came back to reality I finished watching my neighbor complete his exercises. That experience turned into a weekly event – since he worked out in his backyard every Saturday. My parents thought it weird that I would want to always be home by 3:30pm on that day, but I convinced them I was studying. And I was – studying my neighbor’s anatomy and learning all about beating off. By the way, years later I bumped into that guy at a gay bar and he told me he had noticed me watching him that first day. He said he loved the attention and figured he was helping me transition into adulthood. We went home together that night – he still lived in the house beside my old one – and we had a great time.“ “Was he still in good shape?” “Compared to you or me? If you, then no – he wasn’t. But compared to me, yeah, he was still big and muscular.” “That’s kind of a hot story, Javier. So, you’ve always been into older men since then?” “Older, yes, but they also had to be big . . . you know, muscular and strong.” “What is it about older musclemen that gets you so excited, Jav?” “Oh Hank, I’ve had almost twenty years to figure that out. I have perfected my answer. First, it’s security. Being with a big man helps me to let my guard down. I feel protected, safe, and able to be myself. Second, it’s the power. I know that’s related to the first, but it’s more. It is knowing the dude is powerful, but it’s also about getting to witness . . . and feel that power. That goes hand-in-hand with getting to feel the big muscles, too. And last, it’s the experience that comes with age. I dated a few big guys that were young and they just didn’t know how to please me the same way older dudes do. Younger guys sometimes aren’t confident enough or they don’t care at all about the other person. A man with some years has figured out how to please himself and his partner at the same time. An older guy that has been with numerous partners has learned many things and all that wisdom comes into the bedroom. I need a man that can lead and follow. That’s learned through experience – and doesn’t come naturally to any guy. I should also point out that in the process I have learned how to appreciate and please an elder muscleman, as well.” “Have you now? And how do you do that? What do you think a big guy like me wants?” “Honesty, for starters. A gorgeous huge man in his mid-sixties like you doesn’t want to play games. You’re looking for a guy that tells you what he likes and isn’t afraid to try new things, too. You also want someone that will let you take the lead. You’ve gotten big because you want to be in control. Yes, you can let others lead, at times, but you get turned on the most when you’re directing a younger guy and helping him to experience new things. You’re looking for a guy that will allow you to show off your body and your power at all times. You want him to let you open doors for him, carry his bags when your shopping, and intimidate the shit out of any man that dares to bully him in any way. Your muscles don’t bulge for your own enjoyment. Yes, you can appreciate them and like to look at them, but having a younger dude salivate as your biceps tease the sleeves of your shirt to near ripping is much more fun. I wouldn’t be surprised if you loved muscle worship as much as all the smaller guys that love groping you.” “How did you get into my head, Javier? I’m so jacked right now I’m scared the table is going to rise in the air and give away my excitement. Why aren’t you taken, little man? If you know all of that about big elder dudes, why hasn’t one scooped you up yet?” “Many have tried, Hank, but no one’s been up to the challenge. No one was able to keep up with me for the long haul.” “That sounds like a challenge.” “Take it as you will, sir. I’m feeling things tonight I’ve never felt before, so I’m going ‘all in’ and laying all my cards on the table. I’ve got nothing to lose because already the night has been magical. Feeling your huge gun gave me enough jack-off material for maybe a year, so even if this ends tonight, I’ll have no regrets.” “You’re either the devil or an angel – you know so much about what I like and what I need.” “Maybe I’m a little of both.” Thankfully, the meal was delivered at that moment. Both men were glad to have the rest from all the sexual banter. Little did they know that under the table were two of the hardest boners in the history of the world. Stars were colliding, continents were shifting, and herds of wild animals were stampeding for no reason – that’s what this connection of two souls felt like. Neither man could even begin to comprehend how much the other met his wildest dreams, but they were about to find out. “What do you do, Javier?” “You mean besides older men with huge muscles?” “Yes, I mean for a living.” “I sold a software engineering start-up company about three years ago. I won’t need to work again for the rest of my life, but I still go in each day and help my old company out as a consultant. I like to keep busy. And you do construction.” “Well, that’s how I spend my time between dates with cute young things, but if you really want to know, I own the company – MD Construction.” “Man, I know that company, Hank. Your signs are everywhere. You must be one of the biggest construction outfits in town.” “The biggest. Kind of like my arms.” “What does MD stand for?” “I’ve never told anyone the truth. I’ve always said it was for my two grandfathers Marvin and David, but it’s really the abbreviation for Muscle Daddy Construction. When I started the company forty years ago, I had already turned myself into a huge beast. I knew my goal, however, was to one day be a silver-haired muscled fox that pleased little dudes nightly. You have no idea how freeing it is to tell you that.” “And you have to idea, Hank, how pleased I am to hear it. Now it’s your turn, by the way, why do you like young men so much? You could have anyone you wanted.” “You nailed it earlier, Javier. I want someone I can take care of. I don’t mean I’m looking for a puppy. I want the guy to be independent, self sufficient, and his own man, but I also want him to be able to give control over to me. I want him to allow me to use my huge muscles and my experience to please him. I want every weight I lift to be about becoming more of that elder muscleman he desires. I want to make him feel so safe that all of his dreams are only about me. I want to help him not have a care in the world. I want to please him – sexually, emotionally, intellectually, and even spiritually. I’m a big man, Javier. I want the dude I’m with to know how big I am every second of the day. I want him to rely on my power and my size. You know, for simple things – like moving furniture and opening up stubborn tops to jars – but also for important things, too – like scaring the crap out of anyone that takes advantage of my boy, fulfilling his every need in the bedroom, and giving him a massive body to worship until he’s the happiest guy on the planet. How’s that for an answer.” “Now who’s in whose head! You just described most of the fantasies I’ve ever had from that first day I blasted a load to my hunky elder neighbor. Hank, I know we’ve only known each other for less than twenty-four hours, but I feel like we’ve known each other for a lot longer. And I feel like you really know me. Tell me something that you know will turn me on.” “Okay, let’s see. Oh, I know. At the end of each workday, two or three of my team come and challenge me to a wrestling match. No group has ever beaten me, but after twenty years they’re still taking me on. We move to an open area in the worksite and strip down to just our pants. That was their idea and I think some of them just wanted to feel my uncovered muscles.” “Who wouldn’t want to feel that?” “Exactly. So, they used to charge one at a time and I had a blast either stopping them in their tracks by just letting them run into my chest and abs or I grabbed their bodies and tossed them to the side. That really pissed them off because most guys do not like to go soaring through the air a few feet.” “I must not be like most guys. You can toss me anytime.” “I’ll remember that, Javy. This big man likes to toss little fellas around. Anyway, now the team has gotten smart and they all run at me at the same time. I love this even more because I either let them all jump on me and then wait a few seconds before I shrug them off easily or I grab the first guy that gets to me and I use his body as a weapon, spinning him around to knock the other guys down. We used to wrestle for about thirty minutes, mainly because I wanted them to feel like they were a little bit of a challenge, but now I usually just dispense with all of them in about five to ten minutes. They always get discouraged by how easily I defeat them, but they continue to ask me to wrestle them every day – in hopes that they’ll win. It’s cute how they go home each day like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the next day they’re all positive with confidence that this will be when they beat me.” “You know you’re going to have to let me watch that one day.” “I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t asked. Turn about is fair play, Javier, tell me something that will turn me on.” “That’s easy. I’ll squirt like a fountain if you stand in front of a full-length mirror and lift me up and down over your head. Watching you get off on your own strength as you press me up and down will make me explode like you’ve never seen. If you stop mid-press, when your biceps are sticking out to the sides and flex them even higher I get an even bigger thrill.” “Oh. My. God.” “Told you, big man. I’ve got nothing to lose if I tell you the truth about everything. I know what huge musclemen like and I get the feeling I know you better than anyone else, before. Testosterone oozes out of you like a boner-causing cologne. It causes me to go wild – like a cat in heat. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” “Oh, I think I can handle whatever you have to offer, Javier. Your cuteness may make me weak at the knees, but even in my weakest state I’m stronger than most men put together.” “I’m banking on it, Hank.” By this time the two men were eating dessert. The meal had gone quickly, mainly because they were so swept up into each other. Javier was getting a little sad because he knew that soon they would say goodnight and go their separate ways. Hank had made it very clear that he liked to string a guy along for a little while, just to make him get even more excited about their eventual first night of sex. Javier had a feeling that Hank was going to go even slower this time, making sure to edge Javier in ways the little guy had never even dreamed. Hank clearly picked up on Javier’s sadness. “If it helps, know that I’ll beat off thinking about your at least a couple of times tonight.” “That does help, Hank. And I’m sure you know I’ll be doing the same many blocks away.” “Yep, and I’m pretty sure it will be the memory of touching my humongous biceps the first time that will send you over the edge.” “You know me so well. Already. I do have one favor, though.” “Name it, Javier.” “I want a really powerful bear hug outside before we say goodnight.” “How powerful? You wanna have a little backache tomorrow to remember me by or do you wanna have to have me lift you into a cab to take you home and then crawl up the steps to your place. I can control my hugs to your specifications. I promise.” “Let’s give the control to you, Hank. You decide what kind of hug I get.” The check came and Javier instinctively knew not to reach for it. It was important to yield to the big man – especially since he had done the inviting. Hank noticed the young man’s restraint and it impressed him. It was clear that Javier had taken care of himself for many years – especially after his parents had passed away. It was also pretty evident that the young man had a lot of money – his clothes, shoes, and watch screamed wealth, but not in an obnoxious way. Hank’s raging hard-on was twitching even more at the thought of this strong-willed cute man letting him take the lead. “I can make you feel like a prince, Javier.” “You already do, Hank. I can make you feel bigger and stronger than you already do, sir.” “That’s probably not possible, but I understand what you mean.” This comment made Javier smile. By this point the check had been paid, and Hank had pushed back his chair from the table. He stood up and immediately Javier noticed the unusually large outline of the big man’s hard member. It actually made the younger man gulp out loud. This, in turn, made Hank smile. “Being with you is probably going to cause me to get arrested for indecent exposure and I won’t even have to take off any clothes.” Javier stood up. He was immediately aware that Hank was looking down at his crotch – to see what was happening. Hank’s widening eyes and open mouth pleased Javier immensely. Yes, he was a smaller guy than the elder giant, but that didn’t mean he had to be small in all areas. His own super hard meat was thicker and probably a tad longer than the big man across the table. Hank gulped loudly on purpose, just to show Javier how much he approved of what he saw. “I also know how to use it, Hank. I know how to use it really well.” “I’ve never bottomed, Javy, but maybe you could teach me how.” “Oh my god, you’re kidding.” “Nope. I guess it’s still from my supposed straight days. I was married for so long that I got used to plowing. My wife loved it super hard, so I got a lot of practice for later on.” “I’ll teach you how to be a controlling bottom, Hank – how about that?” “I’d love it. I think I’ll especially love practicing.” By this time they were outside the restaurant – having caused quite a scene as they walked through the place with what seemed like logs in their pants. One lady actually fanned herself as they walked by. No, out on the sidewalk, they were still getting stares – especially Hank, because of his enormous size and muscles. Javier clearly noticed how people stared and ran into things because they weren’t watching. “You get used to it, Javier. I sometimes don’t even notice people staring, unless I’m doing something to show off. Then I love looking around and seeing their faces.” “Well, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being around your huge body, that’s for sure.” Hank took that as a cue to move in for what he knew the little man truly wanted. Hank stepped in front of Javier, bent his knees, wrapped his arms around the little guy’s torso, and then easily stood up. A guy walking by gasped out loud and almost ran into a light pole. Javier exhaled loudly – mainly because Hank’s hug pushed all of the air out of his body. Javier was surrounded by harness. Every muscle in Hank’s frame must have felt like solid rock. It was the most exciting and secure feeling Javier had ever felt. Hank started squeezing tighter and the younger man could feel parts of his body adjusting to accommodate the pressure. Soon there was a jolting pain to Javier’s torso and it caused him to let out a slight moan of pleasure. This caused Hank to smile even more and he brought his face down to give Javier a prickly goatee kiss – manly and gentle at the same time. Javier jumped at the chance to kiss the big man back – using his mouth in the same way that had always gotten him compliments in the past. Javier was known to be one of the best kissers in town – well, at least among all the people he had ever dated. It was Hank’s turn to moan – a little louder, though – as he experienced Javier special gift. After about a minute, Hank pulled his face back – worried that his body was going to erupt from the pleasure he was feeling from Javier’s mouth. “Where in the hell did you learn to kiss like that?” “I’ve had a lot of practice. Um, Hank, not that I’m complaining, but I’m beginning to not feel my legs, so when you put me down don’t let go too quickly.” “Oh, sorry, too hard?” “No, it’s perfect, I just don’t want to end up lying on the sidewalk.” Hank lessened the pressure in his arms and let Javier’s body slide down his own. The smaller man’s face smacked into the massive pecs before him and then settled into the mammoth crevice between them. Hank held Javier in this exact place for a little while – both to give him some time to recover from the bear hug and to excite him even more. He finally sensed that Javier was okay and he released him – noticing that the young man teetered a little and then strengthened his stance. Hank stepped back and looked down at the cute man, who was staring upward with a giant smile. “Not even a fraction of your total strength was it?” “Nope.” “I’ll have to work my way up to at least half.” “I’d never hurt you, Javier, but we can keep increasing the bear hug power. Maybe we can come up with a ‘safe’ word that you can use to get me to stop.” “More.” “That defeats the purpose of a safe word, little man.” “I know.” This made Hank laugh out loud. His mammoth chest bounced up and down and Javier’s gaze was transfixed. Both men stared at each other for a full minute after the laughter had ended. Somehow, each of them knew something magical was starting at this moment. Javier desperately wanted to sleep in Hank’s enormous arms that night, but he knew it was for the best to go their separate ways. Hank felt the same way. Neither man wanted to be the first to go, but finally the elder muscleman took control. “Goodnight, Javier. Meet me at Paddy’s Gym on twenty-third tomorrow at six. We could do a quick dinner after you watch me workout – if that’s good for you.” “Being around you is always going to be good for me. Goodnight, Hank, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before he turned to walk away Javier reached up and placed both of his hands on the humongous pecs in front of his face. Hank immediately tensed the muscles and everything went super hard. Javier drew his hands back and after making fists punched both pecs teasingly. Their hardness made the younger man’s fingers hurt a little and this turned him on. He looked up into Hank’s face, smiled, and then turned to walk away. “By the way, Javier, I curl about two times your weight. I just thought you’d want to know.” Javier did not turn back around. He merely held up his hand and waved goodbye over his shoulder. At the same time he shook his head, signifying he was in awe of the big man. Hank brought his fingers up to his mouth and whistled loudly – making a few people on the other side of the street stop. It even made Javier pause for a few seconds, but then he continued on. Hank called out, cementing his place as a construction worker. “Nice ass, little fella.”
  10. Today was not going to be a good day. Jason was getting a new boss. Well, to be precise, the company Jason worked for now had a new owner. Little was known about Mr. White, except that he had enough money to surprisingly up and buy one of the greatest marketing firms in Santa Monica, California. Jason was a little miffed because he was a senior vice-president and he had not been included in much of the process. Of course, he has been traveling around Southeast Asia for three weeks looking for a wishing stone and this takeover had been quick – so quick no one saw it coming. Now, here he was sitting in a boardroom with about eight other people ready to meet his new boss. The doors opened and a frail man of mid to late seventies entered the room. Jason’s hopes disintegrated. The new owner did not look like a happy man. His face seemed to have a permanent scowl and the way two assistants hovered around him made it clear he liked being babied. This new owner was going to be horrible. Jason just knew it. He turned to his co-worker, Dave. “That’s our new boss? I think I need to dust off my resume.” “No, man, that’s the guy’s old man. He’s the one that has most of the money, but he won’t be here. It’s his son that’s the new man in charge. His name’s Sebastian . . . “ Jason heard nothing more of what Dave was saying, for through the door walked what could only be described as daddy sex in a suit. Sebastian White was probably around fifty-five and had the most inviting, cock-exploding smile Jason had ever seen. The silver hair, the green eyes, and the fuck-me-in-the-backroom seventies porn mustache was so perfect that Jason got a little dizzy looking at the man. The room was instantly filled with the same warmth the young guy had felt with his buddies in the cave when they had touched the wishing stone. Jason’s rod shot rock-hard and he panicked about having to stand up to shake hands with his new boss. At the same time, however, he could not take his eyes off of Sebastian. The well-dressed new boss worked his way around the room, shaking hands with each employee and being introduced by the CFO. The man’s face lit up when he saw Jason. He immediately walked up with his hand outstretched. “And I know who this is. It’s great to meet you Jason. I’ve followed your career for a few years now. I’m Sebastian.” “Um . . . It’s good to meet you, Mr. White.” “No, please call me Sebastian. You’re one of the reasons I convinced my father to buy this company. Your reputation precedes you. What you did with the Lowell’s account was nothing but miraculous.” Suddenly, both men realized they were still holding hands. Jason immediately went to pull his away, but Sebastian held on and even tightened his grip for a few seconds. He then let go. Jason’s mind was racing between how gorgeous the man in front of him was to how he had taken a little mom-and-pop shop called Lowell’s and made it into one of the largest retail outfits in the world. It had been a marketing coup, which had ended up making their firm more money than all the other accounts put together. It had secured Jason’s place in the firm, but it had also gotten him hundreds of offers from other places. All of that didn’t matter at the moment, though, because Sebastian was saying something else. “You’re as handsome as everyone said you were, Jason.” “I’m sorry?” “We have a lot of the same friends and they all told me you were quite the stunner. I’d say they were right. Also, that suit is fantastic. Let me guess – Gus at Faulkner’s did it for you.” “Um . . . yes, yes he did. How did you know?” “He does my suits, as well, and I can notice his work anywhere. Those shoes, by the way, are to-die-for. I’m kind of jealous.” “I’m sorry, this is all a little surreal. My bearings are a little off.” “My dear Jason, let me start again. I’m really good friends with John and Mattie Scott. They talk about you all the time. They’ve actually tried to set us up numerous times, but both of our hectic schedules made it not work. It’s probably confusing because they call me Seb.” “Oh my gosh, you’re Seb?” “The one and only.” “To Mattie and John you walk on water!” “Well, I’m not sure about that, Jason, but we are good friends. I can’t believe we never met before. I think it’s mostly because I travel a lot.” “Yeah, if I remember correctly you were out of town almost every other week.” “I try to help take care of all my father’s businesses. And trust me, that’s a lot. It will be good to be here in Santa Monica for a while, though. I’ll be around to get everything settled with the takeover and then I’ll be depending on you to help with things after that.” “What?” “Didn’t Stephen tell you? My father and I would like you to run the office.” “Me? What about Stephen?” “Stephen’s a CFO – and a good one – but we need someone who knows marketing. Jack French is leaving, so we need a new lead person. We believe you’re the best for the job.” “I’m . . . uh . . . wow, thank you. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you’d be leading the firm.” “Well, I’ll be involved a little, but we feel you are the right man for the job. Besides, if I was in charge it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to ask you out.” “Um . . . excuse me?” “I’d still like to go out with you. It would make Mattie and John happy – especially Mattie, she’ll be over the moon excited. It’s okay, if you’re not interested . . . now that you met me, but I’m still interested.” “No! I am. Really. It’s just that all of this is happening so fast. I mean it’s just that you’re handsome as hell and . . . oh crap, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I meant to say that you’ve just bought our company and . . . “ “Technically, my dad bought the firm – not me. So, I’m handsome as hell, huh?” “Um . . . Sebastian, I’m sorry. I was just saying what was in my head . . . I mean, I was just thinking out loud… No, that’s not what I meant. Oh forget it. Yes! You’re very handsome.” “Very handsome? I think I like handsome as hell more.” “Okay, handsome as hell. There, are you happy?” “Well, not completely, you haven’t said yes to a date.” “Oh yeah . . . okay, yes, I’d love to go out with you.” “I have tickets to the opera tonight. Shall we take in a little Verdi and then have a late dinner?” “It’s the grand gala tonight at the opera. Tickets have been gone for months. How did you get those?” “I bought them three months ago, when I found out my dad was buying this firm. I figured a guy like you would appreciate the finer things in life, so I got the tickets in hopes you would say yes to a date. And now I’m the luckiest guy on earth.”
  11. Michael was nervous about joining a gym. He had avoided it for the first six months he had lived in Atlanta, but the slight flab gathering above his belt now made him panic. He knew he needed to exercise, but he just didn’t want to do it around big, muscled, sweaty men. They always made him get excited and Michael’s genetic blessing from his father and grandfather caused a very uncomfortable situation in the middle of any workout – not to mention at his crotch. It was like he became instant porn. To say Michael’s tool was huge was an understatement. Usually, when Michael dropped his pants in the bedroom for the first time most men either quickly left in fear or immediately made a joke, like “What do you want me to do with that thing, throw it over my shoulder and burp it?” Being monstrous below the belt was not a problem for Michael. On the contrary, he loved it. It made him feel powerful in so many ways. First of all, it helped to weed out the wimps. Any guy that was willing to be plowed by Michael’s ample endowment usually was the kind of guy that did extreme sports or had always been chosen first for teams when he was in junior high. These guys always seemed to be confident. Secondly, Michael felt powerful because his sex drive matched the size of his meat. He seemed to have a libido that just wouldn’t quit. His big cock rarely needed resting time between orgasms. It had been that way all of his life. All of these thoughts were racing through Michael’s mind as he anxiously waited for his new trainer – a guy named Saul – at the neighborhood gym that had come so highly recommended by most of his friends. “You must be Michael. I’m Saul.” The deep baritone voice made Michael’s balls tighten. He was sitting in a chair and when he looked up he beheld what could only be described as the most jacked, giant muscle daddy he had every seen. Suddenly, Michael was thrust back into the cave of a few days ago and the warm feeling that had surrounded his body as he touched the orb. It’s not that Michael has forgotten about his wish, it was just that his nervousness about the gym had made it slip his mind at that moment. The ginormous paw that was held out to him was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. He forced his smaller – infinitely more delicate looking – hand to reach up and shake as Saul took the chair beside him. The big man caused the piece of furniture look small and made for a child. “Holy fuck!” “Oh no, Michael, sorry to disappoint you. Is it because I’m older than you thought?” “Hell no, it’s because you’re so freaking chiseled . . . and so tall!” “Well thank you. So, I was thinking today we could start by filling out a chart on you – you know, so we could get to know each other a little and we could have a starting place for your work out routine. What is it you’d like to accomplish?” “Well for starters I’d like my legs to reach half the size of your arms. Um . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m just a little taken aback by how built you are. I . . . uh . . . I’d like to lose a little around the waist and maybe gain a little mass . . . uh, you know, bulk up a little. Sweet Jesus, I can’t stop staring at you.” “It’s okay, Michael. Don’t worry about it. How about strength? Do you want to increase that?” “Yeah, I guess. I don’t need to be super strong or anything. I think I’ll leave that to you.” “Okay. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but another added benefit of working out is an increased sexual drive.” “Um . . . that’s never been a problem for me.” “Oh, that must make the girls happy.” “Well, I don’t know about the girls, but the boys are pretty pleased.” “Really . . . and what about the older men? Are they pleased, too?” “Well, to be perfectly frank, I’ve had a little trouble finding an older man that was able to keep up with me.” “Maybe you’ve finally met your match, sir.” “I don’t know, Saul, you have no idea just how much I don’t need to work out to grow in certain places.” “I have a pretty good picture, Michael, since you’ve been pretty stiff ever since I walked up.” “And yet it has a hell of a lot more to go until it’s fully hard.” “That’s exactly what I was hoping, Michael. I may be a huge man with bulging muscles, but when it comes to riding big things I’m as graceful as a ballerina. And my motto has always been, ‘There’s no such thing as too big.’ If you get what I mean, sir. Oops, that little comment made you grow more.” “Maybe after you show me how to work out I could buy you a coffee, Saul.” “Only if that coffee could turn into dinner later on. And then, after that, we could have fun measuring each other’s assets.”
  12. Hope Springs By Cutlerfan [Somewhat based on RPs with Scott158f and MuscleAce] James and his roommate Ian were happy to have found a cheap way home for weekend but the trip was irritating. The two jocks they carpooled with were completely obnoxious. They kept calling them fags despite the fact that neither had said they were gay. Requests to suck them off were made by the athletes that did not help the situation. “I just assumed two fag boys like you loved cock,” said the Junior wrestler named Brice. His cohort, Rod, a football player was just as bad. “Yeah I bet you’d just love it. Everyone knows twinks like you love jock juice!” “Thanks but we’ll pass.” they said at the same time. They were only thirty minutes from their destination when the car started to act up. “You put gas in right?” asked Rod. “I thought you did.” replied Brice. “Damn we need to find a station A SAP!” Rod looked around and saw a sign saying ‘Hope Springs-2 miles’. “Okay let’s go there. I bet they have gas. Might get a snack too since I need protein.” Rod flexed his big bicep as Brice nodded. In a few minutes they we on the outskirts of the town. “What a shit hole this is!” whined Brice. “Yeah but they should have gas I hope… hah I made a funny I said ‘I Hope’ and we’re in Hope Springs!” Rod laughed at his little joke. They found a gas station just a few blocks down the road and filled up. “Okay fags that’s twenty from each of you for gas now hand it over!” Not wanting to be stranded the two guys coughed up the money and got out to look around. Across the street was a small marble fountain with a tulip shaped spout. As they walked over and looked closer a sign read “Hope Springs” with the word ‘Eternal’ underneath it. Nearby was aforementioned spring that appeared from the ground with pipes drawing water to the large tulip and drinking fountains, Taking it to the fountain. A small bridge was over the spring leading to the woods. A huge man in a sheriff’s outfit drove past and stopped by the fountain where the the young men now sat. “The water is great for quenching a thirst,” he said, ”A wide variety of thirsts.” There was a small drinking fountain on the side of the fountain so James and Ian decided to have a drink. The water was cool and refreshing. “Great water,” said Ian to the sheriff who pulled his huge arm inside his patrol car and drove off after he stated: “Enjoy the full benefits of the water… think of how you want to be.” The two men walked onto the bridge and stood over the shimmering water. “Think how you want to be?” Ian said out loud. “I don’t get it. We just imagine how we want to look? Some kind of self-actualization?” James frowned. “I have no idea but I do know I wish I looked better.” “Well I think I look okay but I’ve uh… kinda had this dream for huge balls. I think they make a guy look more masculine you know?. Sorry if that weirds you out.” Ian looked unsure of how James would react. James shook his head. “Nah I’m all for looking more manly… always wanted a beard but I can’t grow one to save my life!” Ian smiled and looked into the clear pool of water. Something was off. A ripple in the water distorted James’ reflection and when it stopped the reflection had a light beard and looked quite handsome. “It’s gotta be an optical illusion” thought to himself. He looked up at James and he looked the same as usual so he looked in the water and the reflection now had a full beard and looked like a model. Confused he looked at James again and… he still hadn’t changed. “Holy shit!” Ian uttered as he checked out his own reflection and saw a huge bulge in his package, at least double its original size. The sight of the reflection’s swollen groin so surprised Ian that he lost his balance and fell into the spring. It was surprisingly deep but Ian was a good swimmer. James extended an arm to help pull him out but Ian was hard to pull. It was like he had gained weight in the water somehow. James reached lower but lost his balance and tumbled into as well. The water seemed to envelope them pulling them down. A maelstrom of suction dragged them deeper and deeper and the light began to fade. James assumed this was the point where he would drown and he lost consciousness. Ian coughed as he crawled out of the water. Next to him James was lying on his side in the sand slowly breathing. Ian looked around and it looked like they were on some kind of tropical island. ‘How the hell did we get here? ’Ian wondered. “Hey James… you okay?” he gave his friend a few gentle pats on his back. James coughed a few times and got up. As he turned Ian realized something was different. James was gorgeous! “Where are we man?” he questioned Ian as he stood up. “No flippin idea.” was his reply. “Some kind of island… it’s pretty warm which is good because our clothes are ripped up.” “Hey Ian… I thought you said you wished you had huge balls. Yours are huge… like baseball size.” “What no mine are just… Holy Shit! They’s so big and heavy! GAWD, I’m getting hard just from their weight. Ian covered himself and blushed. “Quite the package you have there!” James smiled and stood up.. You know you’re so handsome and sexy with that beard too!” Ian rubbed James’ face and growled quietly. .“I don’t have a beard.. I mean … whoa I do!” exclaimed James “My hair is blond now too!”. “I mean err… you’ll attract a lot of women with those looks and beard.” muttered Ian. “So since we’re stuck here we might as well make the best of things, right? Said Ian looking around. “Yes we should find water and build a shelter then look for food.” added James. The two set off to find their necessities of life. They searched mostly around where they had exited the water but they made some interesting finds. Hours later they had found a stream of clean water and had gathered some small shipping containers that were labeled as containing MREs-Meals Ready to Eat. They feasted on some of the meals and had a short nap then a rinse in the water to refresh themselves. As night fell they shared a small survival tent and blankets found with the MREs. The tent was quite small but both were so tired they barely said goodnight. James smelled an interesting aroma and realized it was Ian’s musk. Inhaling the scent he relaxed next to his friend and they both slept well. The next day they continued to look for supplies. Their bodies continued to change as the masculinization process seemed to speed up. As the days passed they went farther and farther from their encampment. They found a variety of useful and enjoyable items that had fallen off cargo ships over the years. Everything from furniture to protein drinks to survival food and more. All still in pristine condition due to the excellent packing everything was in. They used several shipping containers to fashion a home using welding supplies they found in yet another lost shipment. Ian was enjoying the work of hauling crates. He had his shirt off and his body quickly gained a dark tan from the light exposure. Both men were blind to the changes in their own bodies but they were intrigued by the rapid changes in the other’s body. James stayed lean and gained muscle Ian began to grow more muscled and broader developing a tight round belly.The game of hiding their erections was getting difficult as they had begun outgrowing their clothes. A crate of fabric allowed them to make bigger outfits but Ian leaned more toward just a sling for his growing cock. They enjoyed one another’s company and learning new ways to make a life for themselves here. There was even time for fun. One day, Ian laughed as James showed him a crate of LEGO sets from several years ago still encased in plastic.”Ooo these look fun!” Ian said excitedly. Weeks passed and the couple grew closer. The shared their personal histories in depth. It turned out that both had no close family and only casual friends. Their bond grew stronger but there was a barrier for both of them. The barrier was broken one day after sunset when James found Ian fiercely jacking off in the jungle. James stared in awe at Ian’s huge cock. It was over 2 feet long erect and the head was as big as a small onion. “Ahem” said James quietly. Ian was shocked and before he could cover up he shot a thick load across himself. “Fuck! I didn’t think you were….” Ian flushed with embarrassment. “I mean I didn’t err.. I.. well... a guy has needs right?” James just smiled and began to stroke Ian’s huge member. “Yeah and it looks like you needed release. Two guys helping each other out is okay I hope?” James asked nervously. “Hell yeah… I mean... sure you… you can help if you want.” “You’ll return the favor I hope?” James grinned. “Sure thing buddy!” Ian smiled and soon he had cum again. Now it was James’ turn. He sat on the ground and undressed; removing his few pieces of clothing. His cock, although smaller than Ian’s was still immense and Ian hesitated before touching it. “It’s okay really! I want you to help me. Those huge hands of yours won’t take long to get me off.” replied James to Ian’s unspoken thought. Ian began rubbing and stroking James’ cock. It got erect but instead of rubbing more Ian massaged James’ neck then shoulders, chest, abs, and quads. “Mmm you have wonderful hands Ian.” Ian blushed again as he worked his friend’s body hoping James didn’t notice the sweatiness of his hands. Ian continued to massage his friend and he relaxed completely. The massage was so good that James fell asleep so Ian carried him back to his his own bed. Ian then rubbed his own cock again as he remembered the look and feel of his friend’s body. The next day they did a lot of work modifying their cargo container home. They cut out sections of the metal to let in light and closed them with a rough glass they made from sand melted deep inside the sleeping volcano. It was hot and sweaty work and by the end of the day they were exhausted. After their usual evening swim Ian suggested that he give James a massage again. A weary James agreed but not halfway through it James was again asleep. Ian continued to massage and delicately rubbed James’ glutes. They were so round and tight and sexy but Ian resisted doing more than touch them. And again for 3 more nights James got a massage and fell asleep leaving Ian desperate for release. He kissed James as he slept and walked off into the jungle and stimulated himself. Finally a week later James again found Ian pleasuring himself; this time with a large rubber tube in his ass. Embarrassed Ian stopped but he was sweaty and his musk was appealing to James. “You need some help again buddy?” Ian nodded ‘yes’ so James walked closer. He gave Ian a massage that made his body tremble. Ian wanted to respond to James’ ministrations but he was afraid. ‘What if James rejected him or worse… what if he hurt James in the throes of passion? Ian slowly pushed James off him and feigned sleepiness. “Ian, you’re gay yes?” Ian nodded. “ You have a huge sexy body yes?” again a nod and a tiny smile. Are you worried about hurting me if we go further?” Ian’s head bowed down but he indicated in the affirmative once more. “Don’t worry I have a solution. How about we get more intimate and what happens will be natural Ok? Ian grinned widely as they lips moved closer and in an instant Ian lost all fear. They kissed deeply for over a minute and settled onto the sand to make love. It was slow and pleasurable each man getting what he needed. The sex sessions, physical work, supplements, and fruit of the island were having a profound effect on them. James grew tall and muscled like a bodybuilder. Ian grew even taller becoming a powerfully built hairy bear of a man. They were happy in their private eden and they forgot about where they came from until one morning a few years later. James awoke from a dream of another place and time. He slowly released himself from his lover’s body curled around him and went for a walk. Ian was awake when he returned. James smiled at his wonderful 9’4” 1600 pound mate. “I think we have to consider some things Ian.” “Oh like what? Ian replied in his deep bass voice as he split a coconut in half with one hand and drained the milk into a goblet he made out of a chunk of crystal. “This whole place is amazing but it’s not real.” “I know. We’ll have to go back sometime. I have no idea how or when so let’s just enjoy our time here babe okay?” “Sure thing my stud bear.” James rubbed Ian’s massive belly and pinched the fat nips on Ian’s chest making him moan loudly. It was many years later when their time came to an end. By now Ian was a behemoth over twelve feet eight inches tall and almost four thousand pounds. James was smaller at a mere ten feet tall and 1800 pounds but his strength equaled Ian’s. Both were looking incredible. James was still trim but had hypermasculine looks and a striated muscular body that would make some men faint. Ian was James’ massive hairy mountain of a man. He could crush steel with his bare hands but he was a teddy bear with his lover. Both had thick beards and they planned on getting some piercings when they got back. It was a few months later when the couple were out snorkeling and looking for lobsters. They enjoyed the swim. Ian’s dark hair had a few flecks of gray but James' was the same as it was when they first arrived here; a rich golden hue. Diving down for another load of seafood they were caught unaware as the water got churned up blinding them with silt. A powerful vortex formed and drew them in. They resisted at first but realized their time in their private eden had come to an end. Spinning wildly they were propelled into darkness. They squeezed out through the fountain and stepped onto the pavement. Ian’s mass made the cement buckle. Standing next to them with a large bundle was the sheriff. “I figured you might need some clothes.” he said handing the clothes to the men who quickly eased into the jumbo spandex shorts; green for James and blue for Ian. Their powerful bodies stretched the material to its limit but it held together.“I can’t wait to reveal ourselves to Brice and Rod!” growled Ian. “I suggest you go into the woods behind the fountain and I’ll tell your nasty friends where you are. It should be quite interesting.” The massive men walked off into the woods and the sheriff went to the two jocks who were becoming impatient waiting for their passengers. “Where the fuck are they? We should just ditch them!” Rod bristled in annoyance. “Yeah those two fags are gonna make us late.” added Brice. The sheriff spoke at this point. “If you are referring to your friends they went on a walk in the woods. Just go find them and you can go.” “The two little fudge packers are probably off fucking in the woods!” yelled Rod. “Gross man, we better show them who’s boss!” stated Brice. By this point the sheriff had walked off so the two jerks ran into the woods to find James and Ian. Where are they? wondered Brice out loud. “Dunno” replied Rod.”I can’t see much through these thick trees. They’re weird and veiny almost like..oh fuck! They’re legs… enormous hairy legs!” Both the jocks looked up to see a smiling bearded hairy mountain of a man looking down on them. “Need some help boys?” bellowed the behemoth. Brice and Rod screamed and run out of the woods as fast as they could. “There’s a monster in the forest! He almost got us!” yelled Brice.They were so desperate to escape that they slipped off the edge of the little bridge and fell in. They struggled for a few moments and then a familiar whirlpool took them into blackness and they vanished. “Looks like they’ll have only each other for company. Quipped the sheriff. “I wonder what will happen?” James and Ian just stood by the fountain kissing. ‘I think we should start a gym babe.” said Ian to his husband. James nodded his agreement and they kissed again. The End?
  13. I'm not sure how clear it will be, but the point of view is switching between the two guys. Hope you guys enjoy this one. --- I was partially listening to the radio playing some pop tune that was on as I focused on pulling my chest to the bar I was hanging from. Three... four... five. I let myself descend somewhat slowly, and at full stretch I let go and landed on my feet. I took a few breaths and then reached for my drinking bottle. I was done with my workout, time to go shower and head home. As I was drinking, I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. I turned and looked down, and then a bit further down. I look down on most people, but this guy had to be at least a foot and a half shorter than me! "Hi, can I help you with something?" "Hi, I'm Eddie. I was watching you, and you seem to have a good form, would you mind giving me a few pointers sometime?" Why, flattery will get you everywhere my new friend. "Thanks, sure, if I'll be able to, I can answer questions or give you pointers. Randall." I reached out with my right hand balled up into a fist. He bumped it with his own. "Sweet! Thanks man, when are you going to work out again? I can't wait to stop bumbling around here," he asked with a toothy grin. I gave him my number and told him I'd be here in two days. I wasn't a proper gym rat, I just went into the gym three days a week. Just maintaining my lithe muscles was enough for me. --- Randall did as he promised, he answered basically any question I had. In a pretty short amount of time I went from haphazardly pushing and pulling on weights and machines to having a proper workout plan. It seemed I gained strength every workout. Randall said that it would peter out. It was still daunting coming up to him. He looked like he was two feet taller than me. Well, maybe not two feet, but when I looked straight ahead, I was looking at the base of his sternum. We've drawn more than a few chuckles when we were chatting, as people found the difference between the two of us funny. It was striking, to say the least, since I was 5'2" and very much fat, and he was 6'8" and model-like slim. I've out-weighted his 190 by about 60 lbs. I had wanted to start working out for almost a year, but only recently I've took real steps. I have wanted to shed some fat, gain some strength. Possibly even gain the ability to run for a bit and even jump. I somehow never really could jump, which was a frequent point of mockery throughout my school-years. I've asked Randall about trying it out, but he said that it'd be better to shed some weight, as it could be dangerous to the joints. But a few tries on my own couldn't hurt, right? "Ow," I groaned as I fell face first on the ground. "Eddie? What are you- come on, buddy, let's get you up." He offered me a hand, which I used to help me get up. My right knee and face burned, my knee from the scrape I got, my face from the embarrassment of someone witnessing my attempt at jumping. "What happened?" "I tried jumping." "Where did you jump from?" "The last step." "Oh," he squinted, then he looked up in thought. "Well, maybe you should start with something easier, like jumping jacks. And maybe somewhere with a soft landing, don't want you to get hurt and discouraged. Also... well, with your weight, you might want to be careful, jumping is pretty hard on the joints, so if you get any aching in your legs, you have to pause, okay?" "Yeah. Hey, I... thanks, man. For not making fun of me." "Of course, buddy! Gotta support the growing man!" --- We synchronized our workout schedules, so we could go to the gym together. We were becoming fast friends. Eddie took to all the exercising like a fish to water. He very rarely complained about muscle soreness, even if I pushed him a bit more. I told him about cardio, which he tried out that same day. Since it was a leg day, I told him it was not the best idea, since his legs would be worn out already. He didn't listen to me, and when he got off the exercise bike five minutes later, he was gasping for breath, and almost fell down. I made him sit down and waited fifteen minutes with him, getting him an electrolyte drink. After that, he stubbornly and jerkily got up despite my protests, and practically crawled to the locker room. Changing took almost half an hour, but after that it seemed it was okay to let him leave. He promised me he'd stay and rest at least ten minutes in the car before driving off. --- I got myself a heart rate monitor to see how my heart responded to the cardio. I read up on it on my own. Shortly after starting the cardio, it was around 110, which was higher than normal. A few weeks later it was around 100, just on the upper end of the normal scale. It was nice to see progress even that way. One morning a few weeks after that, just after I woke up, I measured my resting heart rate and it was 85. After I jotted it down into my journal (I kept track of personal records, measurements and other progresses), I went back to the bed. I had some time to be lazy, almost an hour before I had to leave for the gym. And it was weekend. Hmm... might have a quick jerk off to start the day off nicely as well. A few minutes later, as I lay breathing deeply to recover from the great orgasm, I started thinking. Basically everything was improving when I started working out. I felt like I had more energy, I even started waking up before the alarm in the morning. I even moved the alarm about 30 minutes earlier by now. Orgasms were better, more intense, and it seemed like I could control how quickly they came. Like today, I wanted a quickie, and came in a few minutes, at other times I had a lot of time, and even without edging or anything, I just... let the orgasm build, until I cried out as my nervous system overloaded with the pleasure. Even the soreness that followed the workouts lessened over time. At first it was crippling, but recently, it was more like a few twinges throughout the day, rather than the pain that followed me every day, whenever I even thought of using the muscles I worked earlier. As I sat up, my hand brushed over my right knee and I remembered that it was the one I scraped when I fell from the last step. Jumping was an area I definitely improved a lot in. Jumping down from stuff was now easy. Jumping up or into the distance was still something I needed to perfect, but hey, I was happy. This exercising thing was a lot better than I've heard. --- We were grabbing a post-work out meal, Eddie was digging happily into his plate and I was rambling on about a thing that pissed me off yesterday at work. After he was mostly done with his plate he suddenly pushed it away from him. "Full already?" "Nah, just needed a break, wanna ask you something," he said with his mouth still partially filled with the meal. He dramatically gulped it down. "I've been thinking lately... would you like to go on a date with me? I like you, and I think the feeling's pretty mutual, but I could be wrong." "I, uh, " I stammered, "um, okay." "Really? Sweet!" And he went right back to cleaning his plate. --- Randall was lying down next to me, still catching his breath as he looked at me with awe. I didn't pay much attention to him because I was in throes of my fifth orgasm in the two hours since we started. I took a few deep breaths, took a nearby water bottle and drained it, as I absentmindedly smeared the cum (there was quite a lot of it) over my belly. I smiled with the thought that the belly was firmer than before. "Dude, that's amazing!" My smile broke into a full-on grin and I turned to him, grabbed him closer and french kissed him. I put my upper leg around his and we continued kissing and cuddling. After a while, he broke the kiss and smirked: "You do know that you're still poking me, right?" "Sorry, I can't help myself," a small lie, as I was now pretty confident that I could somewhat control my dick. I just didn't want to. Not like it really bothered him, as he grabbed it and started playing with it. "You're like the battery ad bunny," he laughed, “you can just go on and on..." "As long as I have the fuel," I said as I took another bottle and gulped down half of it. That was the last one I had, three others lay empty on the ground where I tossed them. My water intake was really high in sessions like these, but I haven't seen any negative consequences. Unlike that lady who died because she drank too much water too quickly. I do try to pace myself, though. As I looked at Randall I saw him looking down at our legs. "What are you looking at?" "Have your feet been always this big?" I looked down as well. They didn't look as tiny in comparison with his as they did the first few times we had sex. "They grew recently, I even had to buy new shoes. I think I went up two sizes." "Wow, that's cool..." “You’re not saying that with much enthusiasm…” He looked up at me, “You know I worry about your health. Feet growing in adulthood could point to a hormone imbalance or something.” “And you know I’m going to the doctor every second week, so I’m under constant surveillance. He always does the blood tests. I’m always healthy. I’m lucky the needle stabs very quickly, they’re gone the next day. Otherwise I’d be looking like a junkie.” We cuddled a bit more before I opened another topic. “Speaking of the doctor, he’s saying my heart’s great as well. Blood pressure is a textbook case, and the resting heart rate is down to fifty-five. Well, ‘resting’ at the doctor’s office, excited about the progress. When I wake up, it’s around forty-five.” “Geez, you’re a proper athlete now,” he grinned. “Wanna go for another round Mr. Bunny Athlete,” he asked as he reached around and squeezed my butt. --- I looked at him as he was going through a set of bench press, moving the 225 lbs like it was a warm up even though we were at the last set of the work out. Sure, he was grunting softly and breathing hard, but he wasn't really trying. "Eddie, I think we should push you more. You don't look like you're trying anymore." He re-racked the bar with a clang and sat up. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I am getting stronger, and lately I haven't been all that tired after our work outs like before. I think it's a good idea." "Alright, I'll think of a more intense plan for you, Mr. superman." "I'll hold you to that." "Already? Damn man, we upped the lifts by at least 20 lbs all across the board and you're already adapting to it. That's insanely fast!" "Do you think there's something wrong with me?" "Do you feel alright?" "Well, to be honest, I feel much, much better than ever before. I think I'll go get checked up again." "Good idea. I'm really hoping it's nothing bad." --- On my way to the gym, I texted Randall while waiting at a red light, with a huge grin on my face: [dude you wont believe this!!!!!]- -[sup man?] [cant wait to show you what we found out at the doctors, this is fucking amazing!!!!]- -[k, am parking at the gym rn] When I reached the gym, I rushed into the locker room, knowing Randall would be there. I got to our usual spot, and seeing him turned around, I snuck up on him, and lifted him in a bear hug from behind. We both let out a whoop, he because of the surprise, me because I was so happy, and because I've never tried lifting a person up before. Well, an adult person at least. And it wasn't hard! I laughed and shook him a little before letting him down. He turned around, his grin matching my own. Both our moods improved without fail when we met each other. I reached out and brought his head down to mine and kissed him, and then pulled him a bit further, so I could whisper in his ear: "I am growing taller!" At that he slipped my grip, took a step back and started to stare at me. "No way!" "Yes way! Look," I motioned with my hand from the top of my head towards his body. When we met, I reached the base of his sternum, and now I reached his armpits. "Are you for real? That's so awesome! What did the doctor say?" "Well, he found basically no anomalies, I am a healthy man, with everything in order, other than my growth, both in strength and now in height." "I'm glad and thrilled to hear that! Maybe you'll even outgrow me!" "We'll see," I said, "well, let’s stimulate more growth in me!" "You're on, bud." --- Eddie's body certainly rose up to the challenge. It wasn't instantaneous, but whatever challenge we threw at him, he sooner or later overcame it. He is 5'8" now, 6 inches taller than when we met. His muscles blew up as well, filling out all that extra space. He is 257 lbs as of the latest weigh in. He has a 'one-pack' as he calls it, a layer of fat covering his midsection and hiding the separation of his abs, but it is very solid. His pecs now thrust about two inches farther than his belly. He is twice as wide as me now, thanks to his thick lats and his shoulders that remind me of bowling balls, both in shape and in hardness. His arms look like thick columns that could hold up buildings. And with the rate his strength is increasing, they very well might happen soon. His forearms are flexing with the slightest movement of his fingers and hands. It can be mesmerizing. His fingers thickened somewhat, and I swear they lengthened as well, but we don’t have any point of reference we could measure that against. He walks with a very slight waddle, which he sometimes exaggerates. His quads have a fairly high separation, and the chords of his hamstrings bunch up and squeeze with his every step. And don't get me started on his ass, it's so round and inviting, and when he's squeezing it as I lay down on him, it lifts me up a bit... Like I said, don't get me started. His calves are now without question bigger than my thighs, the two diamonds firmer than a punching bag. I've actually used it as such. It started with me joke-slapping them one time, but then Eddie wanted harder and harder... He always thanks me for the gentle massage, the cheeky bastard. Anyway, his feet are now the same length as mine, size 12US. His are wider though. On his shorter stature, they look gigantic. Well, if he was skinny they would, but with all his muscles... they look appropriate. He looks fucking amazing. But as amazing as he looks, his... abilities are even greater. He didn't have any jumping ability to speak of when we met, but now he could easily clear my head with his feet from stand still. With a running start, he can jump around 60 feet away, clearing at least twice my height. Even though it looks like his muscles should be slowing him down, he can still keep up with me on a bicycle easily. In a hilly terrain, he's even faster, because he can leap from hill to hill, and he sometimes uses the trees as well. We found a secluded area in the nearby forest, where we made him a measured out track so we could test how long he could run for. We ended the test after four hours of him running at almost top speed, because he was only just starting to breathe a little harder than normal. His cardiovascular system improved like you wouldn't believe. From what he told me, before we met each other, he had a heart rate somewhere north of 110 per minute. When we measure it now, it's between 10 to 15. The lowest I could find on the internet was 26. Athletes normally have between 40 and 60. When we did that test earlier, we measured his heart rate. It was 25. Though it is hard to take these measurements, since the rate returns to his normal within half a minute. His breathing slowed down as well, now he inhales about 4 times a minute. His skin toughened up as well. He says the nurse sometimes has trouble piercing it with the needle, and he doesn’t get scrapes or cuts anymore. Even if he did, they’d heal very fast and without scarring anyway. His nails are tougher too. He noticed that when he was cutting them one day. Ruined a few nail scissors that way. He switched to small bolt-cutters. We tested his resistance to blunt damage, and he’s passed with flying colors. I still cringe a bit when I remember how much it hurt my hands when I slammed a sledgehammer over and over into various parts of his body, while he just grinned and bore it without even blinking. Last, but certainly not least, his dick. It didn’t grow, but as it was a thick 9 incher from the beginning, that wasn’t necessary. But it certainly got a boost as well. As we were having sex once, I mentioned it felt firmer, and he said that he was experimenting with lifting weights with it too. From then on, he (as well as I) took great pleasure by twitching it noticeably inside my butt when he fucked me. Then he strengthened it so much that when I was gripping it as hard as I could, he could ‘shake my hand’ by twitching it. The power in it was incredible. --- I hoped Randall would like the special date I prepared. I've recently found out this old abandoned flooded mine. I staked it out for a few days, but it seemed it was forgotten, since no one showed up, even though it was the perfect weather for swimming. From two sides the pool was walled off by two steep cliffs, which I had a fun time scaling. Rock climbing was easy for me, since I could easily just crush in my own handholds, and if I fell 30 or 40feet, my body took the hit easily. If there were loose and sharp rocks under me, it was unpleasant, but my skin, muscles and bones were strong enough to withstand those. I had the idea that it would be a nice surprise for Randall, so I didn't tell Randall yet, just asked him if he would go on a date in the near future to which he answered “Absolutely!” It took a few days to set up, even with my pretty quick speed (if I didn't use a car that is) it took me around three hours to reach it, so I took vacation for those days. First, I took in the sight. It was pretty amazing, when you paused to look at it. There were plenty of spots that would be great place to set up a picnic blanket. I picked one under a tree. I made a mental note to myself to get a plastic tarp or something to hang above us, so no bugs would bother us. At home, I read up on engraving and rock-carving a bit, to get a better idea how to... write my message, into the rock walls. I thought that might impress Randall. I did a small test, and found that while my fists were strong enough to punch into the rock, the end effect wasn't how I wanted it to be. I took a small but sturdy chisel, and that turned out to be more precise. I could just jab it in, and chip away at the rock until I could form legible words. Much better. After I was done chiseling the message, I had to do a bit of an acrobatic stunt to cover it up, it wasn’t hard, but it was somewhat awkward. I took a large tarp to, hang over the sentence and secured it with pitons I pushed in. I loved having that kind of power, where I could just push things into a rock. Thankfully there was a clear stream nearby that I could drink from. I jerked off probably a dozen times every day while I was there. By the second day, I had to find different jerking off spots, since it was starting to smell. Not that we both didn’t like the smell, but I thought it might not be the greatest move to have a date out in the nature, and all we could smell was my cum. There were lots of small streams of precum flowing along the rock wall as I was chiseling away. The rubbing of the rock on the head of my dick that was sticking straight out didn't help any. I couldn’t do much about that, just wait for rain to wash it off. Then I looked around for some boulders so I could show off to Randall. There were some nice ones I could easily grip (or make grips into without splitting). I explored the floor of the pond by my hands (the water wasn’t all that clear, and whenever I found a sharp point, I smoothed it out. It was tedious, but doable, thanks to my ability to hold breath comfortably for around twenty minutes. There’s a dude who did it for twenty-four, but that was with breathing 100 % oxygen for half an hour before his try. If I did the same, I could probably go for over an hour. I was sad that I didn’t have more than a few days, because then I could take the rocks that were no good (or that I destroyed while making sure my stunts would work) and make sand out of them. But it was too time consuming. With all that prepared, I told Randall that we could go, and we drove by car, chatting easily on the way. I was driving, just in my shorts, and he took great pleasure to always have a hand on me, groping me, trying to get me hard. I was prepared for that, so I just unzipped my shorts, let myself go hard, and then start smacking the steering wheel audibly with it. That made him go red in the face and mutter an apology. But I didn’t miss the hungry look on his face. He immediately noticed the tarps on the rock walls, and asked about them, but I told him it’s for later. We had a nice meal (we brought some ham sandwiches, and some grape juice mixed with sparkling water). Then we cuddled for a bit, and then I said that the main event would start now. I took off my pants, standing in my nude glory. I looked awesome, if I do say so myself. Bulging muscles everywhere, twitching with my eagerness to show off. I let myself become hard, and started leaking pre like a faucet. I gulped down a gallon of water from the car trunk, which made my one-pack bulge out, but it would last me some time. First, I picked up a boulder that was about half my height in diameter, and did a few overhead presses with it. Then I let one hand go, and beckoned Randall over, as I kept the pace of the, now one handed, presses going. He was by my side immediately, rubbing and groping me, licking the skin over my muscles as I flexed for him. Since he was still wearing clothes, I grabbed him by his belt after a while, and did a few presses with him as well. I could feel his hard dick pressing against my hand as I let him down. I lowered the boulder on the ground, and he jumped on me, as we kissed hard for a few minutes. Both of us were breathing heavily now (I from excitement, him from me holding the kiss for so long). I moved to another boulder, this one was as tall as I was. I moved around it, so I was hidden from Randall, pressed the head of my dick into a hole I made earlier, moaned loudly with delight as the feeling of penetrating a hole so tight and firm brought me to a new height of arousal. I twitched my cock, and heard a gasp from the other side, as Randall saw the big boulder go up. He ran around the boulder to confirm his suspicions, and when he saw me from the side, the boulder supported by nothing but my dickhead, he moaned louder than I did, and did a few hip-thrusts. I let him recover before I moved onto doing dick-curls with the boulder. He wobbled nearer, and leaned onto me, as I wrapped a hand around him and brought him closer. He put a hand on the boulder and I stopped the dick-curls, and let him try to press on it and move it, but thanks to the weight of the boulder and the strength of my dick, he couldn’t move it. By then, I could see the pre leaking out of the small hole, so I set the boulder down, and pulled myself free with a loud pop. “So I see you appreciate how strong I am, huh?” “Holy goodness, man, I knew you were super strong, but this… geez…” “Wanna feel it for yourself?” “Uh, sure,” he reached out to grab it, but I gently pushed his hand away, and pressed myself against him, wrapping my arms around him lightly. “Now, take a seat,” I said with a grin. His jaw dropped slightly, but he widened his stance so his knees wouldn’t knock into me, and started crouching, but was stopped soon in his descent by my prick. He hugged me around me neck, and then I felt a bit more weight on my dick, as he lifted his feet off the ground. I hugged him closer to me. “Feeling good?” “Yeah, buddy, this is incredible.” I walked around for a bit, which he loved. Even the bouncing when I twitched my cock, but soon he told me he had to get down, as it was a bit uncomfortable. “I think we’ll need to saddle that big boy before I ride it for longer next time.” I laughed, “Alright, alright, but the big boy will be ready whenever.” I thought for a few seconds, and I smiled. “I think this party is reaching its peak. Would you please step this way?” I motioned towards the pond, and led the way into it. I waited as Randall got rid of his clothes and came to me. “Now, I want you to look the other way, while I remove the tarps. And no peeking, whatever you’ll hear, promise?” “Okay buddy, whatever you want.” I swam to the rock wall, and grabbed onto it, climbed a few feet, then checked if Randall wasn’t looking. Satisfied, I made the climb, and removed the lower row of the pitons. Then I moved slower, holding onto the tarps, scrunching them and then throwing them up over the cliff one by one. I teared up a bit as I revealed the four words and a question mark. When I was done, I canonballed into the water below, and then swam back to Randall. I hugged him from behind. “I love you, Randall, you know that, right?” “Yeah Ed, I love you too.” I let him go, and took a few steps back, “Alright, you can turn around now.” He turned around, squinted at the walls, his squint relaxing, and then he smiled and I saw his eyes water. “Absolutely buddy, I will.” --- Well, here you go guys, hope you enjoyed it, please point out any mistakes you've found, and any comments and critique are always welcome!
  14. EDIT: Story now includes an extended ending Hello everyone reading, this will be my second story post ever, hope it's good and I'll appreciate any feedback I would like to state up-front that I don't intend to make a sequel to it, but I might play with the Venom theme in other future stories since the Symbiote lends itself well for muscle growth storylines. Sadly I didn't have the time make visuals for this story too, but I do really like adding a couple of illustrations for stories, so if anyone can and would like to contribute scenes to add to the story feel free to hit me up or post below and I'll integrate it Spidey and Venom’s Experiment It had been a while since Spider-Man and Venom had been enemies, they or better said, Peter and Eddie had somehow come to become something akin to acquaintances or maybe even friends. This came about after a few times when the duo had had to join forces against a common enemy. As much as Venom hated Spider-Man, he was also extremely dominant about his own territory and his prey and didn’t like the idea of anyone taking over his turf, but even more than that, anyone but him getting to take the Spider-Man made his blood boil. And as strong as Venom was on his own, he had reluctantly accepted Spider-Man’s help on more than one occasion when faced with an overwhelming opponent. After a few times, the tension between the two had managed to simmer down a little and they slowly started to talk more with each other as opposed to always being at each other’s throats, after all, sharing intel was important in keeping an upper hand on anyone who had it in for New York. _______________________________________________________________________ Peter and Eddie’s little alliance started to develop into something more like friendship as time went by and each started to forget the things that had made them sworn enemies in the past, and most oddly was that the Symbiote had its influence on Eddie reduce over time and as such it couldn’t rile his emotions up as much anymore against the Spider-Man and practically became nothing more than an extension of and under the control of Eddie as the Venom rather than a sentient entity with a will of its own. ‘Eddie’s become a pretty cool guy this past year’ Peter thought as he was pulling a t-shirt over his head. He was getting ready to meet with Eddie; they had been hanging out for non-superhero related reasons more often as of late. Peter was going to go to over to Eddie’s place for a movie night. He was really curious to see Eddie’s place since it would be his first time there. ‘Okay, all done here, better get going before I’m late again’ Peter said while grabbing his keys and heading towards the door, glancing at the clock on the way out which read 21:07. _______________________________________________________________________ As Eddie put the bag of sweet popcorn in the microwave and saw 21:51 on the screen he said to no one in particular ‘that twig is late again as always’ as he grinned a bit from the corner of his mouth. Eddie had taken a liking to calling Peter ‘twig’ due to his lithe body, Peter wasn’t a fan at first but has grown used to it since. Eddie liked calling Peter this in part because he himself was a pretty built guy at 1,90m (6’3”) and 104kg of muscle, he was thick, broad, well-shaped and tall to boot, he couldn’t resist making fun of Peter’s small size in comparison, but in part he also found Peter’s lithe body interesting in a way, he couldn’t explain it. He would just sometimes stare aimlessly at Peter’s body, following its contours and shape, mapping it all out, looking him up and down, it just made him a little warm inside and he didn’t know why but he liked it, not that he would ever admit it to Peter, he was way too proud for that. As his thoughts drifted off he started to think how it had been a while since he had heard the Symbiote’s voice in his mind, It had stopped really taking over and Eddie had for all intents and purposes gained full control over the Symbiote’s powers now. It had struck him as weird but there was just so much he didn’t know about the creature that there was just no way to know why It’s consciousness had just faded away, maybe too much time bonded with another creature with a distinct personality? Who knows, but he did wonder ‘if I have full control over Its powers now I wonder what all It can do, It didn’t exactly come with an instructions manual’ as he was playing with some of the goo around his hand, changing its shape randomly. Ding dong, ding dong ‘So he’s finally here’ Eddie said as he left the popcorn to do its thing and headed towards the door. ‘Well hello, was starting to wonder where you had ended up, thought maybe the wind blew you away’ said Eddie with a sarcastic tone. Peter just rolled his eyes and entered the apartment panting a little ‘Sorry, I left the house late, got all the way downstairs, then realised I forgot the key to my bike’s lock, so had to go back up then down again’ Peter just slouched unto the sofa. ‘I’m sorry but can I bother you for some water?’ he asked Eddie. ‘Sure lemme get you some...’ he said trailing off all the while not taking his eyes off of the sweat-drenched t-shirt sticking to Peter’s figure. ‘Here you go twig’ gulp gulp gulp ahhh ‘Bless you muscle man!’. Eddie burst into laughter ‘Muscle man?!’ ‘Yeah, figured if you’re going to call me twig all the time I should have a name for you as well’ Peter said in a sarcastic tone. ‘Well well, look at that, Peter Parker giving me sass’ Eddie said as he got close to Peter climbing onto the sofa kneeling with one leg on either side of Peter's, and gently lifting Peter’s shirt off of him leaving him in nothing but his shorts. ‘You can’t be wearing this drenched thing on my sofa’ Eddie told Peter who in turn replied ‘Sorry about that, I biked as fast as I could’. ‘It’s cool, it’s a hot day anyway and I don’t have an AC sadly, besides I have plenty of laundry to do, now I have even more of an excuse’ Eddie said while taking off his own tank top he was wearing and tossing it into the washer with Peter’s t-shirt and a basket of laundry. Now standing there was the big brute in nothing but his boxers and socks, which didn’t go unnoticed by Peter who tried to play it off as best as he could. ‘Nice place you got here by the way muscle man’-Peter Chuckling ‘You’re gonna keep that up aren’t you twig?’-Eddie ‘Yep’-Peter ‘Yeah it’s a nice place and for $705 a month, a fantastic deal here in NYC’-Eddie ‘7-0-5??!! That’s cheaper than my place!’-Peter Wink ‘I know’-Eddie ‘Ugh no fair, but I’m glad for you’-Peter ‘So, back to the theme of the night, what movie are we watching?’ said Eddie as he threw himself unto the sofa with Peter ‘How about the new Batman movie?’-Peter ‘Ohhhh with Bane in it right? Yes!!!’ Eddie said with a certain excitement Eddie wasn’t just buff for fun, he had a thing for muscle, he found it beautiful and sexy on himself but also to admire, just taking a look around his small apartment one could see several posters of bodybuilders and lame inspirational gymrat quotes like ‘NO excuses!’. As well as a weight rack and bench in one corner with dumbbells on the floor around it. _______________________________________________________________________ ‘That was awesome’-Peter ‘Yeah, especially Bane and that venom he uses’-Eddie ‘So that’s how you got so big huh? You named your alter-ego with the Symbiote Venom because you got your hands on some of Bane’s venom? wink’ said Peter in a mocking tone ‘Hey!’ striking a double-bicep pose sitting down ‘These are all-natural and I got them long before the Symbiote came along’ said Eddie with lots of pride Peter was taken aback by the pose, it was certainly a sight to see, especially those hairy armpits of Eddie’s which looked like caves with huge lats behind them, framed by the thickest arms Peter had ever seen so up-close, he gulped but he wasn’t gonna let Eddie know he was impressed or Eddie would hold that over his head for eternity. But at that point Peter did feel a bit disappointed though that he wasn’t in a bit better shape to feel more confident, he knew Eddie didn’t call him twig or showed off to hurt him but to boost his own ego but it did get to Peter sometimes, the jealousy. He would just like to experience having a body that impressive just once. As Peter came back from his detour into his thoughts he found himself eye to eye with a curious-looking Eddie who was analysing his guest quite in-depth. ‘Geez, what?’-Peter Stares intensely for a bit ‘Did I hurt your feelings?’-Eddie ‘Shit, he figured me out that easily? I really need to stop giving away my emotions so easily’ Peter thought to himself in a fit of surprise. ‘Nah don’t worry about it’-Peter ‘You’re lying to me Peter’-Eddie ‘You almost never call me Peter’-Peter ‘I thought that would catch your attention, or at the very least not add oil to the fire’-Eddie ‘You’re too smart for your own good, be dumb and buff’-Peter ‘You wish, so are you gonna tell me or are you gonna tell me anyways but after I pry it out of you?’-Eddie ‘Fine... you didn’t really hurt me just so you know, I just get a little insecure sometimes, I mean you look pretty impressive and I’m just a ‘twig’ and it can be something I wonder sometimes like ‘man how is it to be that big?’ You know?’-Peter ‘Sorry I didn’t mean to call you that to chip at your confidence’ said Eddie with genuine remorse. Chuckling ‘Calm down Ed, I know that, it’s not your fault my mind runs amuck’-Peter ‘Don’t worry about it, can I go use your washroom though? I really need to pee after everything I drank’-Peter ‘Oh yeah, sure there pointing door to your left’-Eddie ‘Thanks! Be right back’-Peter _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Man didn’t mean to make Pete feel bad, wish there was something I could do though to boost his confidence, but muscles aren’t something you can get just instantly’ Eddie thought to himself. ‘Wish I had some of that venom Bane had. Or at least knew how to make it. I mean it’s probably some kind of steroid, and I can get my hands on those but again not instant enough, would still take months of work. So venom must be like a super steroid, hmmmm....’ ‘Okay so steroids work by introducing excess amounts of testosterone into the body as well as other hormones, which are mainly produced in the gonads, hence why your balls shrink on a cycle, they stop working in response to the excess....’ ‘maybe if there was a way to stimulate his body to do it on its own it would work but how? UGH!’ Eddie thought, rubbing his hair in frustration. Then it came to him ‘I wonder how much control I have over the Symbiote? I mean I know it can physically affect the human body, that’s how it used to control me and affect my emotions, and those are controlled by hormones breathes deeply I can do this....’ _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Man I feel like I have been freed from a prison’ Peter said as he sat back down with Eddie. ‘What’s up?’-Peter ‘Pete, you said you wondered what having a muscular body would be like right? Would you really want to have one if you could?’-Eddie ‘That came out of left field’ Peter thought but still replied with ‘I guess so, it IS really impressive and I guess it would just be an interesting experience, but building a body like that would take more time than I have’ ‘Okay, do you trust me?’-Eddie ‘What?’-Peter ‘Do, you, trust, meh?’ Eddie asked again in a playfully annoyed voice with a grin on his face ‘Yeah, of course, why the sudden question though?’-Peter ‘I can give you that body if you would want to try what I have in mind, it’s weird but I think I can do it if you want to of course’-Eddie ‘What? Really?! Has he gone crazy? Have I gone crazy? Why am I so excited, it can’t be, but I don’t believe Eddie would lie to me, especially not about something like this’ Peter thought to himself ‘So, will you trust me?’ Eddie asked again, sounding fully honest ‘Okay, I’m yours, what do you have in mind?’-Peter ‘So, I was thinking, steroids work by enhancing the naturally produced hormones in the male body...’-Eddie ‘Yo, Ed I don’t want to do steroids’-Peter Sigh ‘Could you let me explain and THEN give your opinion?’ said Eddie in an annoyed voice ‘Sorry, go on I guess...’-Peter ‘So as I was saying, it supplements what your body naturally has and does, and I was thinking back about Bane and his venom, how it goes straight into his bloodstream and makes him grow like it’s a super-concentrated amount of the hormones which have an instant effect’-Eddie ‘Uhu... continue?’-Peter ‘Stay with me, so I was thinking how could I achieve a similar effect in your body maybe. Then it came to me, the Symbiote, it controlled us, our emotions and behaviour when we were with it remember? It has the ability to modify our hormones, so maybe I can use it in a different way, to affect other hormones’-Eddie Peter made a face of sudden realisation and interest ‘Ha! See! So now that I have full control over the Symbiote, I think, if you are up for it I can send it into your body and make your body make itself more muscular by changing how it works’-Eddie ‘That’s, that’s, that’s actually quite genius that you came up with this’-Peter Grinning widely ‘Hey, I’m brawn AND brain, cut me some slack’ -Eddie _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Hmm.... okay, honestly I’m still unsure, but... I trust you, I’m all up for this, what do you need me to do?’-Peter ‘Great! I know I can do this, for you at least. Okay well the primary hormone for muscle growth is testosterone, right? That’s produced in your balls, so this is weird, but I will need you to take your pants off’ Eddie said hesitantly Eddie was confident this method would turn Peter away from trying it but to his surprise, Peter gave a grunt but then reluctantly took off his pants and underwear and sat back down ‘Okay do your thing’-Peter ‘You really trust me that much?’-Eddie ‘Yep, so you better not disappoint me’ Peter said candidly Grinning ‘Okay’ -Eddie Eddie raised his hand and the Venom goo started to coalesce on his right hand, he then brought it down to Peter’s cock, and suddenly the Venom lurched towards the piss-slit entering Peter more forcefully than he had anticipated, he screamed at first but shortly after started squirming and moaning. Eddie watched, taken aback by how much his heart pounded seeing Peter like this, wrapped in painful bliss with his dick rock-hard. The Venom kept making its way inside Peter until it reached the balls and started accumulating. Peter lurched again as his balls started swelling, to the size of hen eggs, then slowly into lemons, then into the size of oranges, it was mesmerising. Once they were full and plump Eddie commanded it with his mind to surge Peter’s body with a new compound they would modify from Peter’s own testosterone and that’s when it started. ‘Ah, Ahhh, AHHH!!! AHHHHH!!!!!’-Peter ‘What’s wro...’-Eddie Eddie didn’t need Peter’s reply to get an answer, he stared as veins started to bulge, starting at the ballsack, swelling thick as rope and moving their way upwards, onto Peter’s shaft. Up his crotch onto his abs. Down his quads, and that’s when the growth started. ‘Wow .... ‘-Eddie Eddie saw as the thick veins he saw expanding like the root system of a plant, turning dark as if tar was following through them instead of red blood. Which was followed by the sudden but slight growth of whichever muscle the black liquid reached through the new network of veins. It was an amazing sight. First the quads, they swelled a bit bigger, then a bit more, it came in waves. ‘AHHH UGH NGH UGHHHH!!!!’-Peter Then suddenly the growth bursts got more intense, Peter’s legs went from those of a guy that regularly biked to those of a sprinter, then to those of Robert Forstermann. The quads and calves swelled like balloons, Eddie enthralled by all the individual muscle heads, the striations and the veins that only grew thicker. Moreover, the after-pulse left in them only made the whole thing more surreal and, well, arousing to his sudden realisation. ‘Holy shit Peter ...’ Eddie trailed off as the growth continued, Peter only panting heavily. The growth next went up his abs, the veins growing thicker all of a sudden. GROAN-Peter Each of the individual mounds of the abs started to pulse, thicker and thicker each time till they protruded enough that you could hide your finger in the grooves between them. Eddie was especially turned on by Peter’s particular ab arrangement. His bottom 4 ab mounds had joined in a somewhat U shape with 4 more individual ones above it, making Eddie feel a chill down his spine as he started sweating from everything he is seeing. The growth hit his obliques and apollo’s belt next, making them swell into thick masses gorgeously shaped and framing Peter’s fantastic overly developed. ‘NGH YEAH!’-Peter As Peter was getting into the transformation, his lats were next affected, the body seemingly reacting stronger and stronger to the new hormone in contrast to the slow growth of his legs the lats simply burst outwards, huge, meaty, veiny and striated drawing a hellish scream from Peter’s mouth. They spread like wings and were enormous like a body builder’s lats, they glistened with Peter’s armpit sweat and were decorated by a gorgeous armpit with a beautiful tuft of brown hair. SCREAM ‘OH GOD! IT HURTS, IT HURTS SO MUCH! MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP EDDIE!’ Peter said as tears welled in his eyes. ‘I can’t Peter, I’m sorry I’m sorry, the hormone is already flowing through your system it’s not my Symbiote anymore doing anything’ Eddie said in a very worried and apologetic voice as he saw that Peter was truly in pain. Next the black veins reached Peter’s pecs which also burst forward into two huge mounds of pure manliness, giving Peter a cleavage any man, and woman, would be jealous of, they were monstrous and well-rounded, thick enough that they’d make you drool, and each crowned with a thick, delicious nipple that seemed to have grown bigger as well, getting as thick as a finger sticking out about 3 centimetres, aiming almost straight down. Eddie could only stare dumbfounded at Peter’s developing body, some drool escaping his mouth which hung ajar. The growth intensified as the veins raged thicker and darker from the pecs onto his shoulders, down his arms, and up his neck. ‘You’re almost there Peter, hang in there’-Eddie The deltoids on Peter swelled into huge round spheres to the sound of Peter’s screams as the growth moved down his arms. First, the triceps swelled in two stages becoming engorged into a ridiculously thick horseshoe shape, with the long head growing especially large. Then came the biceps blowing up into a solid ball like a softball ball but with a vein running on top of it that looked like a snake with how thick it was, the throbbing and swirling it came with adding to the likeness of a snake. Finally, the growth reached his forearms as they thickened with cords of muscles, swelling nearly as thick as the biceps themselves, rough and manly Eddie thought to himself. They looked like Peter’s hands could crush diamonds with forearms that large, they would give most guy’s legs a challenge. Lastly, the growth reached Peter’s traps, whom at this point was red in the face, panting drooling and screaming from the pain he was going through. His traps swelled and grew from his shoulders down his back, it was large and plump, joining up with his neck but not overwhelming it so it still looked like distinctive parts of Peter’s anatomy. And then suddenly Peter breathed a breath of relief and seemed to have passed out, his veins started to turn back from black to pale green and skin coloured but not losing any volume, still looking sickly engorged like roots atop his muscles. ‘Peter, Peter, are you okay?’ said Eddie to his friend who seemed to be out cold. His chest heaved up and down so at least Eddie was sure Peter was alive. However, just as Eddie thought the transformation was over, the final growth seemed to be hitting Peter’s dick which was a nicely average 14cm (5,5”) but soon started ballooning larger and larger to Eddie’s shock who was right in front of it as he had been squatting at this point in front of Peter who was on the couch. ‘Holy shit,....... that thing must be 18cm now? 22? 25?!’-Eddie said, mouth agape The growth finally seemed to stop somewhere around 30cm (12”) long and 20cm (8”) in circumference, with balls that had swollen to match as well, about as big as a grapefruit. The massive thing just stood there hard and bobbing lightly up and down in front of Eddie while slowly going limp. Eddie had never thought of himself as gay, but after seeing Peter transform, and definitely after seeing his dick grow into this behemoth he was experiencing all kinds of feelings he had never felt before or at least not in this context or combination, lust, wanting, fear, confusion, curiosity, jealousy, especially jealousy. Eddie was 1,90m (6’3”) and 104kg of muscle, Peter’s about 178cm (5’10”) and used to be maybe 77kg at best, but now, Eddie was guessing he might weigh nearly as much if not more than he did himself. Peter was now a freak, he’d give a professional bodybuilder a run for their money. He was jacked to hell and probably no more than 6% body fat to boot, you could see every vein, every striation, every individual muscle group, it was like an anatomical model intended for medical school except the muscle mass was cranked up to the max, Eddie had never before been intimidated by anyone, at least not anyone he knew in person, but now Peter was the one guy to make him insecure about his own size.... and maybe some other feelings as well? _______________________________________________________________________ ‘Peter, Peter!’ Eddie said in a worried tone, it had been about an hour since Peter had transformed and passed out and Eddie was starting to get anxious. ‘Pete, please wake up’ Eddie said again to the seemingly unconscious muscle-giant that was Peter with angst in his voice. Peter’s eyes snap open ‘Peter? I’m so happy you’re awa...’ said Eddie, trailing off as he realised Peter’s eyes were entirely unresponsive and blank when suddenly Peter launched himself from the couch grabbing Eddie quicker than his brain could process, slamming him onto the floor. ‘PETER WHAT’S GOING ON WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!?!’ Eddie yelled in fear towards the unresponsive Peter who was now pinning Eddie’s legs open. The beast then proceeded to rip Eddie’s boxers right off, exposing his ass which Peter seemed to have locked his eyes on. ‘NO, PETER PLEASE, I’M SORRY I DID THIS TO YOU, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, DON’T DO THIS!!!’Eddie screamed as he desperately clawed at his formerly kind and gentle friend, he feared both what was about to be done to his body as well as having destroyed his best friend, the realisation that he really loved Peter dearly coming forward in his mind, Peter being the only person who ever got to really know him in-depth even though they were enemies at one point it never stopped Peter from being kind to him after they settled their differences even when Eddie seemed to still doubt Peter’s intentions for a very long time before he got comfortable with his presence Peter never seemed to put up any defences against Eddie. Suddenly, Eddie felt a sudden and piercing pain like a bone being broken coming from his behind as the beastly Peter shoved his monstrous dick up his ass without any semblance of lubricant, or tact, forcing his hole open wider than it was ever meant to, impaling him down to the balls in a fraction of a second. Then Peter started pounding like a machine that was designed to drill through rocks, he pounded Eddie like he wanted to kill him with his dick, and his face like an angry beast sure gave Eddie that idea. This drew a most gut-wrenching scream from Eddie who was crying at this point and had a frightened face like that of a child. This sight seems to have been the one thing to bring Peter back from wherever he had been lost in his mind, his pupils shrinking again and his eyes becoming focused. ‘Eddie? What the... What happened to me, my arms why are they so huge why.... EDDIE?! WHAT’S GOING ON?!?!?! WHAT AM I DOING TO YOU, I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY!!!!’ Said Peter in remorseful shock, but as he attempted to pull his titanic pole out of Eddie the pleasure he had been unaware of suddenly rocked him down to his core, his eyes rolling into the back of their sockets and he roared the most erotic moan anyone had ever heard and unloaded a cumshot into Eddie making him grunt and moan as the what seemed like a litre of cum filled him up to his stomach. As the bliss subsided Peter seemed to be coming back to his senses. ‘I’m... I’m so sorry Eddie, please forgive me I’ll pul... FUUUUCK!!!’ Peter couldn’t finish his sentence, while he was trying to pull out of Eddie, suddenly Eddie’s ass grabbed unto the mammoth dick like a vice, it felt amazing but nearly painful to Peter as he looked down to see what the hell could be going on when he saw what was happening to Eddie. Eddie let out a guttural roar as his body exploded, all his muscles suddenly engorged even larger, they expanded in every direction as veins as thick as power cords swelled under his skin feeding the muscles with unimaginable size, some of these veins coloured black in some points and slowly transitioning into grey and normal colour. His already impressive build expanded in waves, quickly approaching Peter’s current size, then quickly overtaking it, after what seemed like 10 powerful pulses of pure power the growth seemed to have stopped. ‘Christ...’ Peter whispered under his breath in shock and amazement, as his cock, which was actually now even harder than in his berserker stage earlier, was expelled from Eddie’s ass. If Peter was a beast after his transformation, then Eddie was a thing from mythology. His muscles appeared to be almost twice as large as Peter’s. If Peter would give a pro body builder a run for their money, then Eddie would reign supreme as Mr. Olympia, uncontested for as long as he lived. His arms were massive, his deltoids were like sculpted marble spheres, his abs reminiscent of an old European cobblestone street, his legs so large they begged the question whether he’d ever be able to wear pants again, and his cock, lord, his cock must have been at least 25cm (10”) in circumference and 40cm (16”) long, it was massive, could even beat a few gym regulars to a flex off, it was a grotesque thing. ‘Peter?’ came Eddie’s voice, sounding disoriented and scared. ‘Eddie! Are you...’ Peter trailed off, he had extended his hand to help Eddie but now he slowly pulled it back, ashamed and scared of what he had done to Eddie, he broke down into tears slumping unto his knees. He was sorry he betrayed his friend, he was sorry he raped him, he was sorry he had caused such a face scared for his life to be plastered on his friend's face when he came to his senses, he was sorry he had probably caused him physical damage with the monster he’d impaled him with, and he was sorry he had now turned him into a real freak, Peter at least was still human-like, but Eddie would never be a normal person anymore. He could never be forgiven. ‘Peter, PETER! WHAT’S WRONG? Don’t cry, please don’t cry’ Said Eddie as he ran towards his friend attempting to embrace him. Pushing Eddie away ‘DON’T TOUCH ME!!! I raped you, and now I made you into a monster, I’m sorry, don’t touch me, I’m not worth living...’ Peter cried in shame as he rolled himself into the tiniest ball he could make himself into. However, Eddie reached for him, and struck him across his face with the back of his hand, then again the other way now. With a face in surprise (not just surprise but also because that slap was carrying even more of a punch coming from the behemoth that was Eddie now) Peter looked up to Eddie who had a face of pure fury but pained at the same time. ‘Shut your mouth and don’t ever say that again’-Eddie ‘First of all, I was the one who experimented on you first, anything that happened therefrom was my fault’-Eddie ‘SECONDLY, I don’t care what happens, ever, you are never to say again that you aren’t worth living, or I’ll beat you bloody and senseless myself until your brain starts functioning properly again’-Eddie ‘GOT IT?!?!’ Yelled Eddie at Peter who winced at the loud words, still taken aback by what has happened, and more so as Eddie started to cry staring right into his soul. Slumping down in front of Peter ‘Just stay the Peter that I know okay, I thought I had lost you there for a bit’ Said Eddie as he hugged Peter, crying his eyes out. ‘Sorry I worried you...’-Peter ‘Don’t apologise dumbass, I did it to you... I was scared I got rid of you’-Eddie ‘Still, I can see I worried you quite a bit’-Peter ‘Of course, I love you...’-Eddie eyes widened, fake coughing ‘Well I love you too, of course, you’re practically a brother to me’-Peter ‘And what if I thought of you as more than just a brother?’ Said Eddie in a monotone fashion looking straight into Peter’s eyes. ‘WhA? UhM you’re just still a bit confused and emotional Eddie, I think yo...’-Peter ‘Not really, I meant what I said and I’m very certain of what I meant’-Eddie ‘.............’-Peter ‘I know what I feel, I’m not crazy, I’m brain AND brawn remember? And you don’t have to reciprocate the feeling, I actually used to be very wary of you at first, I’ve never really been very close to anyone, and certainly didn’t have an interest in finding that in someone I hated as much as you.... but that changed....’-Eddie ‘I have been feeling weird towards for a while now, I just didn’t know what it was, it was all new to me, but seeing you transform.... I guess it finally pushed me over the edge.... my brain was overloaded, my heart was pounding, and I can’t even admit the thoughts I had about your body while watching it, one I will admit though for your sake is that I don’t regret what you did to me when you went berserk...... I might have even enjoyed it more than I should have..........’-Eddie Peter’s mouth hung agape and his eyes were as large as the world, whilst Eddie was turning red as a beet at the confession he had just made. .......................... Mustering up the courage to break the silence ‘I see.... well I can’t say I dislike how you look now, you are even more impressive now, but at least now I don’t have to be insecure around you’-Peter Pointing at his body ‘You like THIS?’ Said Eddie surprised, he thought he was too much now for anyone to find attractive but his worries have just been blown away with the words from the guy he was in love with ‘I mean... I’m hoping you like what you see too?’-Peter ‘From what I said earlier you should know the answer to that is yes twig’ Eddie said sarcastically ‘Besides, I liked it even before the extra meat’-Eddie Flexing his arm ‘More like a sturdy tree than a twig now don’t you think?’ Peter said with a smirk Doing a double bicep pose ‘Eh still looks like a twig compared to THESE’ Eddie said arrogantly but in good fun Bringing his right hand to his cheek, arm supported on his crossed legs ‘Great, I could make men and women cream themselves from just looking at me and I STILL can’t impress you!’ Peter said with a bit of sarcastic annoyance in his voice ‘Still, I know why I grew, but what happened to you?’-Peter ‘Not that I’m complaining about it....’-Peter ‘I think maybe the hormones I made the Symbiote create inside you, were leftover in your balls after the transformation so it was in your cum, and when you came in me, in that volume it reacted with the Symbiote inside me and had an explosive effect’-Eddie ‘And trust me I’m not complaining either because at least now I’m strong enough to take on that crazed fucking of yours again and actually enjoy it instead of fearing for my life, almost being fucked to death by a muscle rage machine’ Eddie said with a mischievous look. ‘I’m sorry about that...’-Peter ‘You can make it up to me by giving me a second chance to prove myself’ Eddie said sarcastically. ‘I think your new muscles came with extra arrogance too’ Peter said sounding slightly annoyed but intrigued by Eddie. ‘Oh no, whatever shall I do, could you help me with that oh Spider-man?’-Eddie Quickly grabbing Eddie and bringing him in close face to face to a dead-serious face, surprising even the overconfident Eddie, Peter whispered into his left ear ‘I will teach you that every hero has a bad side....’ as he heard these words Eddie felt the enormous meat Peter had now become hard below him even lifting him just slightly off of the floor. Gulp ‘I think I did create a monster in the end’ Eddie thought to himself. With hungry eyes and a shallow breath coming from his mouth Peter grabbed Eddie and flipped him right over. Eddie could barely grasp what was going on he felt his hips being pulled up, ass in air and knees on the cold floor. His own massive cock becoming rock-hard within moments slapping his torso forcefully, the head reaching just shy of his cleavage, however, he was still extremely nervous after his ‘traumatic’ experience with Peter’s new and improved dick when he had transformed. Although he quickly started to lose focus on that as he felt a moist tongue suddenly penetrating him without remorse, exploring his insides with the conviction one would explore uncharted territory with. MOAN ‘Ohhh Pete, Pete-er, I haven’t done this before go a little easi-AAaaAoOn me’-Eddie Peter pulling his tongue out of Eddie ‘Never huh? I honestly wouldn’t believe you if I didn’t know you as well as I do because the face you're making right now tells me you wouldn’t be able to live without it’ Said Peter in a playful but mischievous tone while staring at Eddie ‘Shut up, don’t think just because you’re a bit more buff now that I’ll be your playthi-High pitched whimper’ Eddie said as Peter suddenly sucked on his hole forcefully ‘Oh really?’ Said Peter in a sarcastic tone while licking his lips ‘Well that high pitch you just hit would beg to differ’ –Peter ‘Don’t mess with me twig’ Said Eddie clearly a few shades redder than he was just a few seconds ago 'So even a guy like you can become flustered....?' Peter thought to himself taken aback by the adorable expression on that muscle freak's body ‘Oh.... well then, prove it mu-scle-man’-Peter Eddie couldn’t take the humiliation anymore, he was the dominant one out of the two of them, not Peter, he couldn’t believe how much control Peter had over him just by giving him a rim job, he had to turn the tables on him before he loses out to Peter, if there is one thing stronger than Eddie’s lust (besides his new and improved muscles) it was his ego. He quickly grabbed Peter with his legs in a leg cradle move bringing him down to the ground then turning around and pinning him in place. Being on top of Peter like this, having the control again Eddie understood why Peter was enjoying it so much, and his titanic cock agreed. ‘Hey, come on, I was just starting to enjoy it....’ Said Peter dispirited ‘Well, I have an idea for something you might enjoy, I know I will at the very least’ Said Eddie with a lustful look, propping Peter’s legs up on his own shoulders and placing the head of his cock on Peter’s hole ‘Hey, Ed, you’re not serious right?’-Peter Smirking –Eddie ‘Ed, no, you can’t put that thing in me, mine almost broke you and mine’s still human, you can’t be serious’ Said Peter clearly worried Eddie accumulated saliva in his mouth before pouring it over his massive pole, lubricating its length up and down and starting to move in closer to Peter, as close as he could without entering him. Peter was sweating profusely at this point and was starting to freak out. ‘Yo, YO, YO, YO ED, you can’t be serious, you’re gonna kill me with that thing’-Peter Grabbing Peter’s cock and kissing it ‘Don’t worry, I took yours when I was normal, I’m pretty sure that new body of yours can take much worse than this, I mean what else are these delicious Groping Peter’s Pecs muscles good for then, you musclebound spider?’ Said Eddie arrogantly with a very prideful and almost evil look in his eyes That’s when Eddie grabbed Peter by the shoulders and started pushing Peter unto his monstrous shaft, swiftly penetrating him down to his balls in one smooth controlled movement, all 40cm (16”) of it, knocking the wind out of Peter. The thing’s head had ended up two-thirds of the way up Peter’s oesophagus, almost reaching into his neck. He was literally choking on Eddie’s dick but from the wrong way. When he reached all the way inside Eddie, Eddie collapsed partially unto Peter below him, it felt amazing, no, more than amazing, it was indescribable, it rocked Eddie to his core, his best judgement was a small boat in the storming state that his mind was in right now and Peter was going to pay dearly for it as he started to pull out of Peter. ‘SHIIIIIIT, NGHHH UHHH!!!!’ Peter yelled in erotic fury, his mind going blank from the pleasure he was being subjected to. When Eddie had pulled out about three quarters of the way, he then mercilessly slammed the whole length back in in one shot. Drawing a perverted and painful scream from his victim. This only feeding more into the animalistic side of Eddie that had taken over. The old Venom had nothing on the sadistic sexual hunger that Eddie embodied right at this moment, in fact, it would have seemed quite tame in comparison. Eddie, with a Cheshire grin plastered on his face, started to progressively pull out about halfway then ram Peter’s hole full throttle, picking up the pace with each audible WHACK! that echoed through the room followed by a loud moan that could only be described as immorally erotic. As Eddie had let himself fall into hedonistic depravity, an hour and a half in, he was pounding Peter in the bulldog position as if he was trying to make minced meat out of the poor boy, the amazing Spider-Man had been reduced to nothing more than a muscle-bound nearly sexually-comatose sex toy for the Venom. He had fucked him doggy, pile driver, jockey. Up, down, and side-to-side, on his back, on his knees, on his stomach, up-side-down. Peter’s asshole didn’t even function anymore and he was starting to wonder if his prostate had been obliterated. Every attempt at a protest or for a rest-stop out of Peter’s mouth was quashed by Eddie giving him a harder than normal fuck shutting him right up. Peter couldn’t hold out much longer. ‘Ed, I... UGH! I can’t GAHHH FUCK! EDDIE I’M FUCK FUCK FUUUCK’-Peter ‘Just shut up and just let me make you mine, only mine...’ Eddie whispered into Peter’s ear as he carry-fucked him, moving him up and down like a glorified fleshlight His words made Peter’s eyes light up like stars on a clear night and that’s when he reached his limit ‘FUUUUUUUCK!!!’ Peter said as Eddie rammed his asshole one last time ‘NO you WON’T!’ Eddie said as he grabbed onto Peter’s cock with his mouth sucking down so hard it locked him unto it and that’s when it happened. Peter roared as a massive load shut up flooding Eddie’s throat so forcefully he almost let go, but he was steadfast and sucked even harder, then it happened again, and again, 8 huge shots. Eddie’s stomach had distended a bit just from the volume as if he had been in an eating competition. By the time he let go, Peter was drenched in sweat from the orgasm he had and Eddie was exhausted and nauseous from the cum he just drank. From the exhaustion he let go of Peter, he was held up by Eddie’s pole still inside him but as Eddie started to go limp he slid down and off of his dick falling to the floor exhausted, Eddie came crashing down on his own as well, one arm on either side of Peter just barely holding him up, and as Peter looked straight at the musclegod that just fucked him to heaven, hell, and back, Eddie, with his mouth still full of Peter’s cum, grabbed him and gave him a french kiss that should be written down in history books, coating Peter’s mouth and forcing him to swallow his own cum, their tongues wrestling each other as if it were an Olympic match. After what seemed like 20 minutes of ferociously eating each other’s tongues they finally broke the kiss to the sound of cum dripping onto the floor. ‘Holy shit’ Said Peter, his body shaking slightly ‘You’re all mine Spidey, don’t forget that’ Said Eddie in an arrogant tone but with soft eyes that betrayed his words with his true desires, that he was simply in love with Peter -------The End------
  15. 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.”
  16. Gym Buddies Outside a small gym, the parking lot was quiet with only a handful of cars parked outside. A strapping young wolf was leaning against the wall to the right of the gym door. His name was Zen. The wolf had soft dark green fur from his snout, back, arms and the top of his tail while his chest to his stomach and the lower part of his tail was all white. He had a stocky build with arms large yet well-defined and thick pectorals that pressed tightly against his yellow T-shirt. The wolf’s dark blue jeans clung tightly to his powerful thick thighs, and highlighted the roundness of the wolf’s bubble butt. Browsing through his phone, he wondered what kept his friend so long. He looked down at his black duffle bag on the floor, and wondered if he should head home. He took out his phone and it showed that the time was 8 in the evening. His friend was late for their gym meeting. Just then, a dark blue convertible drove into the lot and parked right in front of the gym entrance. Zen’s bushy tail wagged excitedly as the driver, a tall blue quail, stepped out of the car with his green duffle bag. It was easy to spot the bird from a mile away for he had a unique black plume that took on the shape of a pompadour. The quail’s yellow eyes met Zen’s. He bounded towards the wolf hastily. Zen was lost in his own thoughts as he ogled his friend’s body. Dressed in a light green and barely-covering tank top, the quail’s broad shoulders and straight-back power stance oozed confidence. His titanic arms were as tall as a beer bottle and thick with veiny muscles. What really caught Zen’s attention were the massive pectorals that were just inches away from slipping over the tank top. The plumpness of the quail’s chest and his nipples poking out against the shirt made the wolf’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. Half-realizing that he was staring at the bird, Zen quickly looked down, but was taken aback by the thick mammoth thighs that stretched the bird’s shorts to its limits. “Sorry, sorry,” the quail said. “Leo had me look for some missing paperwork.” He scratched his head nervously. “Nah, its ok Marty. I just got here.” Zen said. If it was anyone else, Zen probably wouldn’t have been so forgiving. But Marty was special. They had grown closer as friends through the months of seeing each other at work. He was the bodyguard-slash-accountant for a rich tycoon snake, and Zen was the part time flower delivery boy. The signs were subtle but they were there. Their conversations at the door grew longer, and Marty even started holding the door whenever it was 9 A.M. just to greet Zen and have their morning chit chat. Zen still remembered the day before when he asked the handsome quail out to gym together. Thinking about it made his heart race the same way it did that morning. The wolf fumbled with his words like a pup trying to form his first sentence while sweating bullets, but looking into the quail’s face made the awkward moment more worth it. Marty took the lead and went into the gym, Zen following him, and they were greeted by a male crested porcupine wearing a navy blue collared T-shirt with the gym’s logo on the right of his chest. “Tell you what. To make it up to you, your first session today’s on me,” Marty said. “What? No! It’s just six bucks. I can afford it.” Zen pulled out his wallet and quickly paid his entrance fee. “You want to make it up to me, give me some training instead.” “Deal!” Marty said, winking his right eye. A tinted door to the left of the registration desk separated it from the workout area. When the two entered, Zen’s nose twitched at the heavy scent of sweat and light hints of musk in the air. It was surprising to the wolf how much bigger the interior was compared to the exterior. The entire left side was lined up with treadmills facing the wall and in another row behind them stoodthe elliptical trainers. And in the middle of the room were two abdominal exercise machines. On the far side of the room were the stacks of dumbbells of varying weights, two rowing machines to the right, and further to the right in a dark corner was the squat rack. Marty was leading them to the locker room which took them past a huge jet-black crow doing 220-pound barbell squats. Zen paused for a bit as he looked with awe at the grunting crow. The crow was twice the size of Marty in terms of muscle mass and was a foot taller. The crow bodybuilder had a bright red tank top that hung loosely against his muscular form, and a pair of skin tight black shorts. “I wish I could be that big someday,” thought Zen. After storing their belongings they were ready to start. Sitting on the row-slash-leg-press machine, Marty spoke to the eager looking Zen standing in front of him. “So you really have no idea what to do in a gym? I find that hard to believe for someone with your body.” Zen’s tail went limp and tucked between his legs. “Well…I do exercise sometimes, and, well…” His voice softened into almost whispers. “… it’s mostly ‘cause of a flower.” They exchanged awkward stares at one another. The only sound was that of the crow behind them grunting and the clanking of metal when he set the barbell down. Marty broke the silence. “Flower? Never heard of that brand of supplement before, I should try it one day. Anyways, we’ll start with some warm-up exercises. Get on it.” Zen switched places with the quail. With his bum planted firmly on the seat and his feet strapped onto the footrest, Zen looked with determination at Marty for guidance. “Hold the handle with your claws facing towards you. Start with pulling it all the way back towards your abdomen while pushing your whole body back with your legs. Then bring it up to your chest for a bicep curl. Do that for as many reps as you can.” Marty demonstrated by flexing his arms just inches away from the wolf’s snout. Zen wondered if the quail was doing it on purpose just to tease him. Regardless, Zen focused on his first set. At first his body felt relaxed like it was no challenge, but in the middle of the set his arms were burning and tension began to build up in his legs from the pressing. At the same time, Marty got on all fours on the floor and started doing push-ups. Zen felt great upon seeing his friend prepare with him. Once his set was done, Marty got up and gave Zen a pat on the back. “Come on, we need plates for the next one.” “Aren’t you going to use the rowing machine first?” Zen asked as he followed behind Marty to the rack of plates beside the crow. The bird turned to reply, “Later. I want to make sure you get your fundamentals.” Grabbing a pair of five pound plates for each of them, the quail demonstrated another routine. The bird raised his arms sideways while each fist that held a plate faced forward, perpendicular to his arms. He raised the plates until they reached his head and brought them down. “This is important because your rotator cuffs are related to your upper and lower body workouts. Then move them to the sides and swing them inwards. Give me fifteen reps.” Zen followed his mentor’s instructions to the T. All the while the wolf’s eyes were glued onto Marty’s chest. He was lost in the hypnotic motions of the quail’s pectorals, the way they stretched and bulged out with every swing of his arms. Their warm-up continued with squats, jumping jacks and other bodyweight exercises for around ten minutes. Zen could feel his chest growing warmer by the end of it. From the corner of his eyes, Zen noticed that the crow had been watching them between his squats and rest time. Choosing to ignore the suspicious character, Zen followed Marty to grab a pair of dumbbells.The quail grabbed one with three 22-pound plates on each side. Before Zen could even reach the same dumbbells like Marty,his mentor grabbed him by the wrist. “Whoa! Whoa! I know you’re all excited, but if this is really your first time you gotta start light. Don’t want to hurt yourself right? Go with the 15-pound ones.” The wolf’s pained expression expressed his discomfort with Marty’s lack of faith in his strength, but the quailwas the more experienced gym goer so Zen gave in. Marty lied on top of the available bench and said, “Now I believe you can build muscle just fine with a bench and a pair of dumbbells. So today let’s work on all three parts of the chest. We’re going to start with the bench press. First-“ Zen interrupted. “I know how to bench press. Dumbbell exercises are how I got into shape the first place. In fact I can bench as heavy as you.” Marty raised his left eyebrow, feeling a bit puzzled. “Alright then, show me what ya’ got.” Zen took over Marty’s place on the bench and relieved the bird of his weights. He positioned his arms at an exact ninety degree angle and the palm of his hands faced one another. Ready to show off his skills, Zen pushed the dumbbells up, the sides of his arms squeezing his pectorals as he held the weights up. The wolf held for a second and brought the weight back down close to his chest. He loved the tightness on the side of his chest and the rush of heat and adrenaline coursing through his veins. Zen repeated his lifts over and over again, only to pause for a brief second to rest before pushing harder. And giving all of his strength for the final rep, he completed his set of thirty repetitions. The quail stood watching by the side with his arms crossed and nearly jumped when Zen started growling and grunting. “What do you think?” Zen said, panting in between words. Marty shrugged. “Saw some form issues. Lie back down and let me show you.” The sweating wolf lied back down and felt the quail’s soft hands grip his arms. Looking up, Zen saw the quail’s thick chest over his face. Zen could barely see his friend’s face. Slowly he could feel his cheeks reddening as he started thinking of all the ways he wanted to grope and feel the bird’s chest; to make Marty moan with lust. Lost in his imagination, Zen couldn’t recall any of Marty’s tips on improving his form. Faking his understanding, the still blushing wolf asked for lessons on how to use the barbells. Marty was more than delighted to fulfill Zen’s request. Walking backwards the quail threw random facts about how to properly use the barbell. Zen just smiled meekly until he saw the crow from earlier was heading in their direction. He didn’t get to warn the bird in time,Marty slammed into a wall of abs covered in short black feather. “Woah! Sorry there big guy, I wasn’t paying attention.” Zen’s ears drooped at the sight of the shirtless muscle bound crow. The crow’s yellow eyes stared intensely at Marty. Was he going to pick a fight? “Coach Marty! You don’t recognize me no more? It’s me, Steve!” The crow broke into a huge grin and patted Marty on the back with such force that the quail lost his footing for a second. “Steve? Lil’ Steve? Holy stars you are huge! Did the muscle fairy visit you in the last two years?” Marty said as he grabbed the crow by the hips and pulled him into a tight hug. “Says the little egg.” Steve responded by locking Marty’s head between his chest and bulging arms. Zen looked puzzled by the sudden change in mood between the two. Then Marty called him over and introduced the crow as his ex-gym partner three years ago. Steve extended his thick right hand and Zen reciprocated the handshake. The crow’s grip was tight and powerful. “Nice to meet you. I’m Zen,” the wolf said. “So you’re Marty’s new pupil?” Steve draped his right arm over Marty’s shoulder. The thickness of his upper arm nearly encompassed the quail’s entire head. “Oh no, no. He’s just showing me the ropes. It’s my first time here.” “Cool. Well you stick with this bird right here and you’ll see some major growth. Like all this is thanks to him.” Steve raised his left arm and flexed. His already large upper arm hardened into a cannonball of muscle. Stepping away from the bigger crow Marty stated, “Pssh, you still have a long way to go Lil Steve. You might have the size advantage from good genetics but I still see a little pudginess.” Indeed, up close there was a stark difference between Marty and Steve’s musculature. The quail’s muscles were better defined while the crow’s body albeit large and meaty was more like an offseason bodybuilder. “Oh yeah? Well it isn’t all about hard washboard abs. Furs everywhere appreciate a huge beefy bird,” Steve said. “Well I think we need an unbiased judge to help us out. Zen, mind picking which one of us is the better looking muscle bird?” asked Marty. “Huh? Wh-why me?” Zen asked. Steve then entered their conversation, “It’ll be fun. Just sit there, we’ll put on a couple of poses for you, and you pick which one of us is better.” With a shy nod Zen agreed. The two birds stood in front of the squat rack. Their shirts were gone and they pulled back their shorts to expose as much of their powerful thighs as they could. Zen sat on the floor and looked up to the two titans starting their show. Both of them stretched out their arms and performed a front double biceps pose, the birds’ arms bulging as if their muscles stretched their feathered skins to the limit. Zen stared and for a brief moment, forgot to breathe because he was so awe-stricken. His tail wagged vigorously Next was the wolf’s personal favorite: the side chest pose. Even under the feathers, the striations on Marty’s well-muscled chest could be seen. In contrast, Steve’s chest didn’t have much definition, but the crow’s chest displayed a largeness that could make Zen want to bury his face in it. Plus the layer of fat helped give the crow’s chest an even-more rounded look. At this point, Zen couldn’t decide yet; though he would lean towards Marty, the two birds just showed off their built physiques well. Next was the rear lat spread, where each bird showed off their backs. The birds’ lats were so wide they could almost be mistaken for wings. Marty showed an ideal V-taper physique, while Steve had a more Y-like shape going on with the bit of gut around the crow’s waist. In his mind, Zen wanted to abandon all reason and just fondle both of their backs, running his hands along their muscles, but he needed to exercise restraint still. After all, his friend was counting on him to make an unbiased judgment. Just then, Steve suddenly waved his hands in the air and declared himself the loser. “Something wrong, Lil’ Steve?” Mart asked. “I know you’re not one that would throw the towel down so easily.” The bulky crow turned away from the quail to pick up his shirt. “Nah coach. Just remembered I had a very important date.” Turning his attention to Zen who was still sitting on the floor, the towering crow nonchalantly bounced his pecs with a cocky grin. “Hey pup, if you and coach are going to be regulars here why don’t we exchange numbers? Then we can gossip all night about each other’s claws.” Zen chuckled in response. “You guys go ahead. I’ll work on a couple sets here,” Marty said. The duo nodded in response and headed into the locker room with Steve leading the way. Once inside, Zen got goose bumps, noticing how eerie the empty locker room looked with its rows of red lockers. Out of nowhere, the massive crow in front of him made a quick turn, slamming his powerful arms against the lockers behind Zen. His mind raced to find answers. Did Steve suddenly turn into a killer? What was going on? The color on his face was drained away by fear. “Wha-what’s going on?” Zen managed to ask, his voice cracking near the end of the sentence. Yet all he got in response was Steve’s intense stare. Then the crow stepped back and broke into laughter. The sudden change in atmosphere perplexed him. “Sorry, sorry. Just messing with you, pup.” Steve took a deep breath and sat on a bench to his right. “But seriously though, you have a thing for coach, don’t you?” Zen’s tail retreated between his legs and all the blood rushed back into his cheeks the moment his brain registered Steve’s question. Hesitantly, the wolf approached the smirking crow and asked, “H-how did you know?” “Your tail was pretty obvious, kid. Word of advice, don’t play cards. Every time you looked at me your tail did a little soft wag, but when your eyes latched on coach that thing was moving fast enough to blow the weights away.” “Oh no… Shit! Marty’s gonna hate me now!” Zen wished a hole would just open up from the ground he stood on, wanting to hide his embarrassed self. Feeling his legs weaken, he fell to the ground, covering his face with his hands, trying to calm himself down. He wished that Marty didn’t notice, but he thought that if the crow noticed, what more his coach that was so close to him while all that was happening. That moment, the wolf felt an immense fear take over him and was on the verge of tears. Seeing the wolf in such a state, Steve felt like consoling him and placed a hand on Zen’s shoulder. “Hey, come on now!” Steve said. “We don’t even know if he did notice. Cheer up! Why don’t you join me for coffee instead? We can talk about it and have something to munch on.” “What’s the point? And didn’t you say you have an appointment?” Zen said. “It’s a fib, pup. And it’s better than just sitting here and moping about it.” Steve rose from his seat and walked towards the locker room door. “I’ll tell Marty you’ll be with me. Go hit the showers, pup.” Zen reluctantly dragged himself to his locker to take his toiletries before hitting the showers. As he thought about it, Steve did have a point. Better to leave and get things sorted out than to stay and make an already awkward thing even more awkward. Heck, who knew what could even happen if he faced the quail in that state. The shower area was one huge light-blue tiled room with four shower heads all lined up in a row on the wall across the entrance. As he walked, Zen enjoyed the cold tingle of the shower floor against his feet pads, his fur standing on end. After dumping his things on the bench opposite the shower head, Zen bathed himself under warm running water. With nothing but the sound of the running water echoing around the entire room, Zen felt a little calmer with the peace and quiet around him. As he showered, thoughts of Marty entered Zen’s mind. From the first time they met, the times Marty held the door for him, the times they chatted up until it was past nine in the evening, the subtle changes in Marty’s speaking when the quail was in a bad mood, the times the quail would flex without even noticing, all these flashed one after another inside Zen’s head and all he could do was let out a dreamy sigh. When he was shampooing, his thoughts shifted to what it would feel like if Marty was the one lathering the shampoo all over him, the wolf imagining the quail touching every curve of his body. Lost in his fantasy, the wolf failed to notice his surroundings and suddenly, found someone’s thick meaty fingers wrapping around his stomach, startling him. Zen panicked and tried to break free, but the one holding him was holding too strong. When the wolf took a second and looked at the mystery fur’s arms, he immediately recognized the shade of blue it had. “M-Marty?!” Zen said. Marty pulled Zen closer into a warm embrace, his cheeks pressing close against the wolf’s. “Shh. It’s alright. Steve called me here, but I’m glad it’s only you in here. Finally, it’s just the two of us.” “W-What?!” “I’ve been wanting to do something like this with you for a long time. But I’ve always held back because you’re my friend. Now, I don’t know. It just feels right and I took the chance. If you want me to let go, say it.” Overcome with happiness, Zen leaned back towards Marty and placed his arms on top of the quail’s, their fingers interlocking. “Don’t. Don’t let go, and don’t hold back anymore.” Marty’s left hand dug deep into the fur of Zen’s abs and he slowly rubbed along the tough ridges of muscles, while his right explored the wolf’s wide chest, fondling and squeezing each pec as if he was kneading dough, running his fingers along the wolf’s now-erect nipples. Every touch was slightly ticklish for the wolf, but it also sent jolts of pleasure throughout his whole body, causing him to grunt and moan. When Marty started to kiss him on the neck, Zen leaned a little closer to the quail and, kissed the bird on his beak, it was a strange but sweet kiss. The wolf was filled with the feeling of warmth, all of it cumulating in his groin. Zen’s thick member kept twitching as it slowly grew hard, eventually pointing to his abs upon becoming fully hard. When they broke the kiss, Marty noticed the quail’s dick was just as hard and pressing between the wolf’s ass cheeks. “Is that?” Zen asked, almost whispering. “Yeah. You ok with it? I mean, if you don’t want to…” Zen shook his head. “No no, it’s alright. Feels a bit longer than mine I’d say.” Marty grinned and turned the wolf to face him. He pulled Zen by his right palm to the second shower head that wasn’t turned on. Excited about what could happen next, Zen’s tail kept wagging. “You know, I did get kind of jealous that you were giving Steve so much attention back there in the weight room,” Marty said, holding both of Zen’s hands. “I thought that maybe I wasn’t good enough for you, you know?” Zen held the quail’s hands in return. “Never! I love looking at you! Always have! Well, uh, that sounds kinda…” Marty smiled. “It’s alright. Is there anything you want do?” “Well, I always wanted to…” The wolf then plunged his snout between the quail’s hefty pectorals. He took a deep breath, relishing the manly scent of sweat and musk from Marty’s muscles. His hands quickly explored Marty’s wide back. It was like running his fingers through a canyon of muscle. Every groove, every ridge made Zen’s cock twitch with ecstasy. As his dick met with Marty’s, Zen started to thrust his hips, rubbing his cock against Marty’s erection. Marty cooed in response to Zen’s wet nose being buried deep between his pecs. It was the first time that he had been touched like that before, and he was savoring every second of it. He whispered cues into Zen’s ear on where to touch. Overcome with a desire to please the wolf, Marty flexed his pecs, tightening his grip on Zen. “You really like me that much?” Marty asked, letting the wolf go a bit. “How’s ‘I’d jump in front of you naked if you asked’ sound?” Zen said, stopping his grinding. The quail laughed. “Well, I like you too, Zen.” Zen paused for a bit. “Can you say that again? Just want to hear those words from you again.” Marty then put his hand on Zen’s cheek and gently stroked it, him smiling at the wolf. “I like you, Zen.” “I… I like you too, Marty. For the longest time.” The quail leaned closer and gave the wolf a quick smooch. “So, wanna pick up from where we left off? My dick’s throbbing like crazy here.” “Gladly!” Zen rested his head onto Marty’s chest and started reaching for the quail’s back again, this time moving a little lower, reaching for the quail’s round bubble butt. The two small hills felt soft like touching clouds, but then with one flex, the quail’s butt hardened into two walls of steel. Zen looked up at the quail and grinned. “Show off!” “Anything for you,” Marty said. Marty then raised his bulging arms and performed a double bicep pose. That moment, something changed within Zen, as if a switch had just been turned on. The wolf got a little more aggressive and went mad with lust, licking the bulging mass of muscle like a hungry dog given a bone. His mind was lost with the thought of worshipping Marty’s body, just touching and licking every part of him. Marty, for his part, groaned in pleasure as the wolf got on all fours and licked his Adonis like body from his arms to his pecs, and further down onto his tree trunk thighs. But even when down there, he noticed that Zen wasn’t paying attention to his cock, as if the wolf was deliberately avoiding it. How he wanted the wolf to suck on his dick, to take in every single inch of it. And the way Zen teased him by avoiding it made his desire for him burn even more. Panting heavily, Marty grabbed Zen by the shoulders and pulled him back up, their pecs pressing up against one another. Putting a little bit of spit on his hand, he grabbed both of their dicks and started stroking them. Every stroke brought Zen closer and closer to the edge, and Marty was just as close. With nothing but the hissing of the shower water and their moaning and groaning filling the entire place, only one desire filled their minds. Still, the show wasn’t over. Letting go of their dicks, Marty bounced his pecs with a cocky grin to tease the wolf further. But Zen didn’t want to lose to the quail. With one hand, the wolf pulled Marty closer and started nibbling on the quail’s left pectoral, his other hand fondling and stroking Marty’s precum-drenched cock. His own cock was leaking just as much as his partner’s, causing a heavy flow of pre to drip onto the floor. With their desire for release finally overtaking their minds, Marty pushed Zen onto the wall as he made out with him more intensely, holding the wolf tight as he thrust his hips, rubbing their leaking and throbbing cocks together. Zen kept moaning Marty’s name, and this pleased the quail even more, increasing his jerking speed on both of their cocks. Zen, felt his legs start to wobble from the intense pleasure. He grabbed onto Marty’s hips and called for the quail to go harder, faster. Marty obliged and rubbed their hard members with greater vigor, causing both of them to moan and grunt even faster. It was then that the two finally felt the approaching climax. Holding even tighter, Zen shared one more kiss with the quail. Marty came first, his dick spewing shot after shot of hot cum onto Zen’s chest. The smell and warmth of Marty’s cum aroused Zen that he came with such intensity, he blew his load all over Marty’s chest. When the two finally calmed down from the massive orgasm they had, they shared another smooch, before laughing at each other, together realizing that at that point, they had become even closer and more than just friends. They looked at each other’s eyes and found in them a glow that they had never seen before in each other. Basking in the afterglow of their “shower time”, they nuzzled each other. Then out of nowhere, the sound of applause echoed from the shower room entrance, causing the two to stand up and quickly look at the source of the noise. There they saw with nothing but a short blue towel on was Steve, not even bothering to hide his massive boner. “Well that was a great show,” Steve said. “Man, you two were really pent up, weren’t you? Should have called me, then we could have turned it into an orgy.” The duo looked at each other then back at Steve. Sharing the same idea they grabbed the big crow into the shower and proceeded to give him his personal shower as rough as they could. It was all simple horseplay with them splashing water at each other and soaping each other’s back. When they were finally done, they went out of the gym and headed for the nearest diner for the biggest dinner they could ever have. All that lifting and personal time got them hungry that it seemed like they could eat the entire diner out of business. The trio talked for hours about how Marty and Zen first met and what it meant for them now to be together. Done with their meal, they had a brief walk along the streets, thinking about what had just happened today. As Steve left the two alone, Marty and Zen thanked the crow for helping them finally take that plunge and become more than friends. The end.
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