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But he seemed so nice? (finished version)


Hialmar

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Preface

I worked on this one for quite some time in the Unfinished section. I haven't changed or added anything since April this year. There might be linguistic errors, that I haven't been able to spot yet, but there's no reason to hide this story over at Unfinished stories anymore.

The prefix No sex is formally correct, but there is some sort of tension between the two male characters, so straight readers are warned.

 

But he seemed so NICE?

You felt betrayed. Or, expressed in a better manner: You didn't exactly know, what you felt, but you hadn't expected this from him. 

You had first got to know him online at one of those muscle-growth sites. He seemed to share your obsession and your fantasies, and, from what he wrote in the sub-forum about exercise, you had to conclude, that he knew what he was doing at the gym. It surprised you, when, after a few private messages, it turned out, that he lived in the same city, as you did. You agreed to meet at a rather average bar a Friday night.

You kept looking for an average guy with any obvious signs of working out, but when THE MUSCULAR PRESENCE entered the bar and guessed correctly who you were, reality began to feel slightly unreal. HUGE wasn't a word, that was enough to describe him. THE MUSCULAR PRESENCE approached you, said hello and mentioned your name. It was too good to be true. If anyone would be able to give you the training-advice you needed, this was the one.

Kindness and a sense of humour in his warm brown eyes. An air of teddybear over his face, with its brown buzzcut hair, chestnut beard and powerful chin. The scent of anti-perspirant mixing with the sweat from his revealing compression shirt, and with the scent of his leather jacket. Denim-clad manspread. Looming wide-shouldered presence. The lump in your throat. The outline of his pecs and his pec-ravine visible through the compression shirt. The outline of his abs through the compression shirt. His looming, wide-shouldered presence ... The living embodiment of friendly, confident masculinity. Present. Close to you. Hard to think. You, answering his questions and remarks with "yes" and "no". You had to gather yourself. What did he say? Showing you something? Well, yes, of course ...

Perhaps three stations with the Underground. Not the most tidy part of the city. He had got a key to some backdoor into a non-descript brickwall building. A grey and sparely lit corridor. Another door: Robust door of metal plates. Two locks. Dark. Brett switched the electric light on. Revealing the Contraption.

A feeling of alarm. What if he was a weirdo? What if ... a violent pervert? The dangerous-looking Contraption. One part Pec-Dec machine. One part torture chamber, perhaps? One part horror film equipment. What could he possibly ...

Your jacket on a hook. He taking your shirt off. But ... No! Wait! You didn't agree to ... And then, the dizziness. Your trousers. Changing your underwear into something ... something tight, glossy, with metal threads woven into the fabric ... Dizziness. Big hands. Helping you down. Sitting in the Contraption. A glass of water. Or not water. Dizziness. Or not water. Brett saying something.

"Told me, you would like it."

Brett. Big. Tall. Close. Present. Those eyes. Kindness and a sense of humour. Why would he ... Why would he be doing this?

Brett's big powerful hands on your naked shoulders. Dizziness. Arranging your body. Hands? Your hands in ... gloves? Inside each side of the Pec-Dec handles. Arms ... to your sides ... your chest ... protruding ... Brett's big powerful hands. Putting your feet into ... into too big high-neck trainers ... Why? Dizziness.

Brett plugged the cable connected to your underwear, the cable connected to your new high-neck trainers and the cable connected to the Contraptions into some ... hard to think ... some Machine ...

You were sitting in the Contraption. Connected to it. Your hands, your feet and your dick connected to it ...

FEAR. You felt betrayed. Or, expressed in a better manner: You didn't exactly know, what you felt, but you hadn't expected thisfrom him. Not from him. Not Brett.

"Have you read about pheromones and similar bio-chemicals inside the human body? A group of women who meet regularly, at work, at home or a group of close friends, have their periods at almost the same time, because their individual physiologies adapt to each other. Similarly, if a man join a group of men with high levels of testosterone, his body will adapt and raise the levels of his own testo. Scents, we aren't even aware of, are able to cause changes in our internal chemistry. Now: Take a whiff of this!"

Brett pressed a breathing mask over your nose and mouth, and in your vulnerable position, strapped to The Machine, there was nothing you could do to stop him. You inhaled. Nothing. At least, you weren't aware of any scent in particular, but you became aware of a nice tingling feeling in your skin. Inhaled. The tingling became stronger, and blood rushed to your dick.

"You see, people in this Project has harvested the scents from countless prison-gyms, hardcore gym-lockers, marine baracks, fire-stations and similar places, where the average testosterone level is presumably high ... and then they have distilled the potent transmittor-substances that affect a man's own production of androgene hormones and growth-hormones ..."

You found it hard to think now. Tingling skin. Tenting underwear. Pounding temples. Brett put earbuds in your ears. A strange sound. Waves. The deeper you go, the better you feel. The better you feel, the deeper you go. A wave of fear: Fear of losing yourself. Fear of eradication of your Self. Fear of the unknown feeling, stirring in the depths of your soul. Inhaling. Willing to transform. Eager to transform. Adapt and raise the levels of ... Excitement, but fear of losing who you are. Tingling. Embodiment. So physically present now. Brett's big hands assuring you of comfort. Yeah, present. Embodied. Tingling body. Some sort of brutal anger crawling in the deep recesses of your soul. Crawling. Rising to the surface. You tugged at the straps that held your wrists and ankles in place, in some inarticulate will to free yourself, but another part of yourself enjoyed the feeling ... Yes: Enjoyed! Fear of ... the stirring feelings. Your muscles changing. Transforming. Warm. Hard. Pumped. Involuntarily flexing. Harder. Bigger. Real jock. Who's an Alpha? YOU are an Alpha. Becoming an Alpha with an Alpha mindset. Becoming an Alpha with an Alpha body. Becoming Brett's Alpha. Becoming the Alpha you always wanted to be. Becoming the Alpha you always had deep inside. Becoming Alpha brawn. Becoming Alpha beef. Becoming ... Is someone messing with you? Fuck, no. If anyone try to mess with you, you will show them, that no-one mess with this real thug bro. Yeah: Real thug bro. Feel so good. Feel so confident. And brawny. And horny. Would be fun to teach some of the idiots from the past a lesson.

Yeah, feeling so good! Look at you! Look at this bruiser! Look at these arms! And these pecs! And you didn't skip leg day. Inhaled. More. More of it. More like Brett. FUCK YES! More! Eagerly inhaling. Eagerly listening to the ... the waves. Eagerly receiving the strange, voluptious and empowering energy that streamed into your electronic gloves, your electronic trainers and your electronic underwear. Eagerly BECOMING what Brett turned you into. Uh! Uhhhhh! Fuck, yeah! You moaned in excitement, when your shoulders became bigger than volley-balls and your trapezius changed to a size adapted to your new shoulders. You could feel your back feel like a mountain-side. Mountain-side! Brickwall! The power! Your thug-power! Filling your trainers now. Not too big trainers anymore. Filling them. Big feet. Big hands filling the gloves. Big ... Uh ... Your hands breaking free. Breaking the steel. Muscle against metal. Muscles winning. Your bullneck of corded steel. Your dick tenting inside the underwear. Power rushing into you ... into your body ... into your hands, into your feet and into your boner ... Conducting this ... POWER ... into you. Rushing. Connected to. Power current. Growing you. Growing BIG! 

Your mind ... Drowning in the sound of waves which turned you into ... into the real bruiser, who are YOU. Brett, yes! More! Give me more! I need it! I crave it! I lust for it! For all this engorged, powerful brawn. For all this engorged, powerful, conditioned and dominant muscle mass. You couldn't believe it: So good, so much. Almost too much, but there is no such thing as too much. All there is, is the craving for more ultra-masculine, virile, steel-hard FLESH. And you are becoming that ultra-masculine, virile, steel-hard FLESH. Becoming FLESH! Your hands must be bigger now. You touched your abs with your BIG hand: Deep ravines had formed between your abs -- a packet of pétanque balls of steel above your navel. Your shoulders widening. The incredible feeling when your chest became barrel-sized. The incredible feeling when your height increased. The incredible feeling when your quads turned monstrous vein-covered BEEF. Inhaling your new Self. Waves. Forming the new you. Intruding from outside. But also ... also stirring. Stirring from within. Rising from inside. Surfacing. Erupting. Yes! The hidden You: Erupting into existence. Erupting out of you. The embodied, heavy, muscular you. Your Jock-you. The mind of your Jock-you. The true you. No longer repressed. Who's a good jock-boy? YES! YOU are a good jock-boy! Jock-boy strong! Jock-boy brawny! Who's a dumb jock? YOU are a dumb jock, and you love it. 

"Brett! Yes! Good! More!"

And Brett increased it. Your mind sunk into incoherent chatter, your immense and massive body writhed in pleasure and buzzed with growth-power, and, distantly, you could subconsciously hear yourself moan, but you were too overwhelmed by the bombardment of stimuli to take notice. Brett was making this fucking bruiser an even bigger fucking bruiser: Bulging all over of power-mass! Yeah: Power-mass! Steel-brawn! Huge! Make me! MAKE ME! Yes! Love it! Big feet conducting power. Big hands conducting power. Boner conducting power. Engorged and throbbing. Not just the boner. Your entire body: Engorged and throbbing. Every. Single. Muscle: Engorged and throbbing. Huge!

Uh. Yes!

Huge!

Make me!

Uh!

Make me!

Uhhhhh!

Make me!!!

Uhhhhh!!!

BIGGER!!!!!!!!

Brett smiled, when he saw, what you had become, and you could see on his smile, how proud he was of you.

It was then he turned up the dial to maximum.

Edited by Hialmar
re-wrote the preface
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6 hours ago, 1996bodybuilder said:

Any idea for a part 2 ? 

No. This is a short story on its own. I do write multi-chapter stories, too, but this one is not one of them. 

Lots of amateur authors on this forum regularly gets requests to write continuations to stories with endings intended to tickle the imagination of the reader. Such endings are quite fun: Every reader will enjoy making up their own continuations in their heads. 

Edited by Hialmar
some more thoughts on the subject
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