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m/m How I Became The King of Pro Bodybuilding


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Supercrav
Here's some story...I hope you will like.
 
Hello, My name is Jeffrey Matthews, I'm calling about the ad for the seaview villa to rent, is it still available?
 
True the price is pretty hefty but the pictures are amazing, looks like a fantastic property.
 
I don't know, at least a year for sure.
 
Nah, I don't have real guarantees per se.
 
I'm not unemployed of course, I'm... freelance. I can pay you a year in advance if that makes you feel comfortable.
 
I'm... into sports.
 
No it's not dirty money at all. I mean I'm not a guy from the mob, I do nothing illegal at all.
 
Bodybuilding, that's where the cash comes from yes.
 
Oh really? We should meet, I'm sure we'd get along well.
 
Well, any man appreciative of the bodybuilder physique can't be a bad man!
 
Hahahaha!
 
Not exactly.
 
At the villa tomorrow at 3? Perfect, that way I can check the mansion and we can chat directly it's always better.
 
*click*
 
--------------
 
So the next day I was there right on time, and the agency guy was waiting from me on the porch, I got out of my car, And I love that look he made.
 
He sure wasn't expecting my build. I flashed him my best smile and shook his hand vigorously.
 
We got inside, he gave me the tour, everything about the property was perfect. The high ceilings, the large designer pool and hot tub, the view, the appliances, the furniture, just perfect.
 
We sat in the living room and the real conversation started.
 
Right away, his topic of choice was, you guessed it, bodybuilding.
 
" Oh you want to know more about my professional life? But of course, I will tell you all about it.You want the long version? I don't know if you have much time on your hands... Oh? Great. I also have a few hours to kill, so let's get started. That will be a honest account, but I expect confidentiality from you as it is kind of a weird, unusual adventure. See it as a trust bond between you and me, as a step forward to the business deal I hope we will agree upon. Do I have your word?
 
OK, I believe you.
 
So, there. I was still a chemical engineer for a major pharmaceutics company only a few years ago. After they closed the muscular diseases research department I was a part of, I was a bit on my own and didn't really rejoin another team, so I specialized on hair growth and recovery, on my own. Nothing much was available on that market, and was either too efficient or not enough, and with drastic side effects. My situation annoyed the management, and more so every passing day, as they're not fond of free agents and I didn't get any significant results. In addition, hair loss research had been a financial money pit in this industry during decades and wasn't very popular there anymore. For a while I could convince them I was on the right path, and was on the verge of something great, but after a while they finally fired me.
 
How long ago ? Three years almost.
 
Yes, and there I am in front of you today ! I was a poor lad on my ass back then. I wanted to go on with my research, but the other companies weren't too keen with that project neither, and I was 35 already so that didn't help, my professional network was ignoring me, so I continued my experiments in my kitchen, with the chemicals I had managed to borrow from work and a few bald mice.
 
One day I woke up and one of the mice still had no hair gain, and that should have bothered me, but in fact the real shock was that it had more than doubled in size! And all of it pure, lean, hardcore muscle! I was baffled, and it took me a moment to realize that my fortune was made.
 
Sure, a scotch, please.
 
I had the formula of extreme muscle growth.Problem was, I had tried so many different formulas, and I wasn't as rigorous as I would have been in a real lab, so I couldn't find through my notes the exact formula I had used. I knew exactly from which vial came the micro-gram of product I had fed my supermouse with, but it was all I had. I tried for days to create the formula again but with no success. Furthermore, after two days, supermouse was almost back to its former shape. But it was a major discovery anyway.
 
No, I never have been able to re-create the magical formula. Maybe I had mixed my notes with older ones from my muscle research days, but as I was out of money, about to get kicked out of my home, so I had to call back the industry moguls to sell myself at a high price. Sure that would have been better with the real recipe but they had the means to analyze my vial and reverse-engineer it.
 
Of course. Then, I stopped to think for a moment. I had two choices in fact.
 
Hehe glad you enjoy. So, what was it that I really wanted. Becoming filthy rich working for these blood suckers, or living the lifelong dream I never thought I could ever attain? Because deep inside, from a very young age, I had always been fascinated by the physique of huge bodybuilders. I never had been a sporty guy, quite the opposite, the feeble, weak nerd good with science, any attempt I ever made at working out had been a miserable failure. Yet I was obsessed with extreme muscle development for as far as I can remember. Hmm?
 
Yes, obviously that was why I had specialized in muscular research to begin with. And there I was with this vial in my hand, and at this moment, I had the opportunity to live my ultimate fantasy, so impossible that it hadn't occurred to me earlier, a drop of this liquid could turn me into one of the magnificent muscular beasts I had lusted after my whole life, a massive, ultra pumped bodybuilder jam-packed with bursting muscles and oozing pure raw sex from every inch of...
 
Oh sorry I didn't mean to arouse you that badly!
 
I was getting there, a few uncertainties were in the balance, human experimentation was a bald move, was that worth the risk if the effects only lasted a few days, then again the condition could prove to be more stable in the human body, and certainly some training would help maintaining the muscular hypertrophy, if I messed with the product, or used it all, its mystery would never get solved, and of course there was a shitload of money to be made in a snap... But it was so tempting, the unreachable dream at my fingertips, becoming a superhuman muscle freak in a matter of hours, in my life I never had the chance to even get close to a real bodybuilder, and soon I would be able to touch, fondle, grab, delirious amounts of sublime muscles, for as much as I want, and feel that intense power, as all that muscle would be mine! I got so hornier and harder with every second that my brain could barely function, so I opened the vial and tilted it over my open mouth waiting for the drop to fall, holding my cock already to savor every instant of my mutation waiting to happen.
 
Obviously.
 
No, not really.
 
Well I was on cloud nine. But so confused.
 
No.
 
Yes, you heard me.
 
No, I did something else.
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goremeridian

I don't think I've read a story where we only hear one side of the conversation. It makes for quite an original piece of writing, Supercrav; nice one!

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Supercrav
Well I simply got back to my senses and took a deep breath. I had to think it over calmly. I went to bed. Jerked off. When I woke up a plan came to mind.
 
No, I didn't call anyone, if my plan had a chance to work it had to be in absolute secrecy.
 
Yes. I had to get in contact with a major bodybuilder. One of the bests in the world. At least, in the top class. To ask for a worship session. I had no idea how, but someday, one answered to my fb messages. It felt so incredible to read something the man had wrote to me, by himself, with his big fingers, and.... to me! It was unreal. A man of few words. Although I had sent him a casual, fanboy message, he knew exactly what I was after and just sent "skype $1000 10mn meet LA outcalls only $15000/1 hour no nudity no touch no kiss no sex"
 
I can tell you, it was Sergei Krishnowsk. OK, wait... I tried to get the price down a bit and the answer was "Pay up little piece of shit no waste my time I am MUSCLE GOD. You stupid faggot pay" - Here... here's a picture of him.
 
Not bad, heh? He's polish. So it took me months to gather the sum, working the worst low-ends jobs and saving every cent I could. When I proudly messaged him back to tell him I was ready to book a meeting with him. But I had another request, it had to be the day before he Arnold classic. Any of his major competitions could have been fine but I had my mind set on this one. So his answer chimed in, "$20000". I sent him back that it was an insane amount for me, result was "You want Muscle God, you pay Muscle God." and shortly after " All faggots in the world want my muscles, faggots my slaves, you faggot pay and shut the fuck up little piece of shit you pay what I say, shut up and respect I am master of the world best muscle you pay"
 
Maybe, but everything he said was perfectly true. I had only two months before the event, and I managed six days before the deadline to have the twenty grand he requested. I sent him all of the money, and we set the meeting.
 
Oh I was a nervous wreck indeed. When he knocked on my hotel door I felt like panicking, when I opened it I was shaking all over, and when I saw him I almost fainted. He looked at me with complete disdain, and pushed me aside. I tried to say hello but he yelled at me "Shut up you inferior, you sick pervert, go over there far from me, hands in the back, I just pose quick and I leave, get on your knees shut up."
 
Oh yes I'm not exaggerating, he was a complete jerk from the get go. But I didn't really care, I was mesmerized by his unreal size, his width, and every inch of his body as he disrobed quickly. "So here's my chest you fag pervert. Oh makes you hard?  Pff I hate you and all your friends the faggots. You give my sport a bad name." He took off his shoes and pants. "That's all you going to get you understand? No, don't beg I'm not taking off posers I'm not showing you my cock and you will not see it. So here's me flexing... You quiet, good, stay put I get closer..." - He was getting calmer, probably getting past his shame of the situation which seemed genuine, and regardless of what he said, it was more and more obvious that he enjoyed showing off his massive muscles and being admired and worshiped by an obedient "inferior". At some point I held up my finger in the air and he asked "What?", and as I asked politely, he authorized my to grab my aching cock and masturbate while feasting my eyes with his beauty. He let me talk some more as I was keeping my voice low and slow. I had studied basics of hypnosis beforehand and it seemed quite efficient.
 
No, I didn't really hypnotize him. But I needed my message to get through and reach him, and it was "Sir, I wish you will crush your opponents tomorrow and win this contest. I am sure you will, but wouldn't it be great to overweight them with a few of extra pounds of muscle? Oh If only I had the power to make that happen to make you happy and to thank you for that heavenly display of muscular greatness you are so generously offering to me." And I went on "I wish I could, I wish you would, I wish with all of my heart..." And as he was lost in my chant, I jumped on my feet, and got a bit closer to him while reaching my climax, hoping that some of my sperm would reach him when I ejaculate. A drop did.
 
Oh, no, there was nothing special about my semen. But as expected he made such a fuss about it. "What? How do you dare soil my body with your filth! I should kill you right there! You sick pervert! You're gonna feel the power of my muscles as I crush your skull with my little finger!" I acted sorry and I said I was, I threw a wet towel at him and a bottle of disinfectant, handed him a glass of water, and my 20K gamble paid off, as he drank a few sips of it. With a tiny drop of the growth formula inside. Apparently it didn't have any noticeable taste, another detail that had worried me.
 
Yes, I know it was an awful thing to do, as I put his life at risk, but it had to be his or mine, and he had been acting like such a jerk it didn't feel so bad at the moment. And hopefully, I was offering him a wonderful gift, rather. Anyway, he angrily put his clothes back on, and stormed out of my room. The next day, the big event was taking place.
 
Yes another scotch please. So.
 
Oooh boy did it.
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Supercrav
Oooh boy did it. The moment he stepped on the stage the whole theater gasped. He was so pumped, so ripped, so huge, and so deliriously happy. It was so obvious he was having the time of his life. Outweighting his competitors by at least 60 pounds, having some trouble to swagger and flex correctly with all these providential extra pounds of muscle, this little clumsiness combined with his kid-on-christmas-morning expression made him even more adorable to the judges and the audience, that and the fact that yes, he was for sure the most astoundingly muscular bodybuilder that ever graced a stage, or even graced the adoring eyes of the lovers of male muscle gathered here in awe of the magnificent man flaunting his almost naked body for their viewing pleasure.
 
Me? I began to cry actually. The audience and the judges started a standing ovation only seconds after he had started his posing routine, and seeing the glorious result of my creation got me crying. He won the title with a perfect score and thanked the "guardian angel" that "helped him with his preparation", who had to be me. He hadn't seen me in the crowd. The next day the "next gen" bodybuilder was the talk all over the web.
 
Afterwards? That I couldn't know. But I got my answer pretty fast : five days later, my phone rang, and it was Sergei calling me. I didn't hang up, he left a message.
 
Oh the tone was absolutely different. He had lost much of the extra bulk obviously, and he went "Hello Matthew, I had to call you again, it's Sergei, your friend the big bodybuilder... Sorry I haven't been very nice with you the other day, but I was so nervous with the competition the next day... I hope you can forgive me.I won that competition and I looked very good... I don't know maybe me crazy.... But I believe you have special, magical powers and you made your wish happen. I have to thank you for that... I would be happy to see you again my friend, you are so cool, I really like you very much, would you like to come to my place sometime? I'll send you the address, please come whenever you want, just tell me a bit in advance, and we could, you know, watch a movie together for example, and I would.. you know... when I'm home I only wear just a pair of shorts, I'm always with bare chest, bare feet... You would be against my body on the couch... And you know my friend, I would hold you in my arms, hug you and..." message full. He called again right after and left another one; "Oh please come over my dear friend, I miss you, I loved the way you admired my big muscles... So now that we are good friends, it is different, you know, you can come to my house all the time.Please. Big kisses."
 
No I didn't call back, I wanted to let this fester a little. And I'm glad I did. After a few days he called again "Hi Matthew, it's me Sergei, your buddy the biggest bodybuilder in the world. You haven't called be back and I'm missing you, I hope you're not angry at me or anything. I'm there alone in my big house, completely naked as always, admiring my body in the mirrors... I would really need your help, because you know, I keep my muscles growing bigger and fuller, but with your expert eye, you could tell me if I'm doing it right or not... And I'm afraid my pecs might be getting too heavy and too thick, I need your opinion so badly. Please come visit me my dear friend, I can't wait to hold you in my arms, I know you love my huge muscles and I want you to enjoy them, I can't wait to stick your face into my luscious pecs, to feel your hands over my biceps, your lips, your tongue, yeah having my very best friend licking my record breaking biceps all over would feel so good, so... Call me please mate, big kisses, yeah covering you with sweet loving kisses with all of my heart"
 
Oh, I knew exactly why, Mr Olympia was only 10 days away, and he was hoping for another growth miracle!  Plus everybody was expecting him after his breakthrough at the Arnold Classic.
 
I called him back the day after. "Hi Sergei it's me, Matthew. How are you my huge muscle freak? Sorry I haven't called you back earlier, but don't worry there isn't any problem, believe me, you sounded worried, but you have no reason to be, listen to me, I swear on every single pound of your roid stacked hypertrophied muscles that I still love you more than anyone I have ever loved, I am still the best friend you have ever had, and if I could, I would spend every second of my life in your heavenly arms, pressed against that body Gods could only dream of, and let our tongues share their secret dance that can last forever...'
 
Right  he couldn't be oblivious to the fact I was mocking his sudden infatuation for me. We both were playing an act. I couldn't blame him that much, he had an agenda and so did I.
 
Then I said "When could I come to see you... on the 13th? Oh you have a competition that day?" - like I didn't know - "Wait, I could spend the 11th and the 12th at your place. Would that be OK for you? Perfect for me too, then. Oh we're going to have great fun. I'll call you in the morning. Big kisses honey."
 
Yes I went there of course. In the meantime I called him a few times, he gave me some unconvincing sweet talk, but when I told him I was really not sure to be able to come to his place, he switched back to full gear. Pleading me, moaning on the phone, the works. I had so much power over this man it was intoxicating. A huge bodybuilder to whom I would never have dared to ask the time of the day, a muscle God who had treated me like shit in exchange of a fortune, was now eating in the palm of my hand, begging for my attention and my presence, ready to do anything I would ask him, reduced to servitude. Even more than I was expecting, the foresight of gaining a lot of mass quickly and effortlessly could get a muscle obsessed bodybuilder eager to do anything, and all bodybuilders were obsessed with muscle, and the bigger they were, the more obsessed they were.
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Supercrav
Yes, that was basically that. I had a way to turn every massive bodybuilder on the planet into my personal servant, but I had to play my cards right. So I went to Sergei's place. He opened the door wearing a denim short and the most snugly spandex tank top I had ever seen, his muscles overflowing from all sides, bloated and shredded, competition ready. He wrapped his arms the size of a bull's legs around me, squeezed me tightly and stuck his tongue into my mouth. I grabbed the award winning ass muscles of the most hyped pro bodybuilder in the world, while the superhuman flexed his immense pec muscles against my body, and pleasured my mouth thoroughly with his tongue. That is when I really understood that my life had changed. And yes, I came into my pants also. We went inside.
 
It was a bit weird, every fiber in me wanted to throw myself at his feet and celebrate his fabulous muscular beauty, while I tried to keep my stature and act as dominant as he would let me too. The evening went well, he was eager to please and making me hot.
 
More details? OK... I crashed into an armchair, exaggerating how long and tiring my travel had been. "Let me take off your shoes" he said. And he went down on his knees to untie them. It was a bit of a struggle for him to get his hands close enough to each other to untie my shoes properly, but as he was leaning forward, he knew that it was a great occasion to showcase his cleavage for me. And the small, effortless yet diverse gestures of his untying and removing my shoes generated shock waves of muscular activity all across his mammoth chest and arms that were nothing but mouth watering. Every few seconds he looked upwards at my crotch to verify the efficiency of his display and sure enough, my penis was getting even more erect each and every time. When done removing my socks with a cunning smile, he said "A good foot massage is all you need" and he seized my left ankle with one hand, stretched his top down his pecs with my heel, and buried the whole foot in the middle of his chest then began making the muscles roll in all sides and ways all over it.
 
Yeah, hotter than hell, and I became awfully hard, shouting along the spasms, my dominant posture took a big dive at that moment. He asked me to help him taking off his tank top, then I went sitting on the couch, and he sat next to me, his right arm around my neck, and his chest pressed against mine. Staring at me while I watched the movie we had chosen. And he went on and on... "Don't you wish...." "What about wishing..." "I hope you wish for me that..."
 
It went on for two days. On the second day I mustered a few wishes, as he outdid himself all the time showering me with extreme muscle erotica. Yet he avoided any direct sexual contact. He was obviously disgusted at the idea, and although he did all he could to pretend he was enjoying constantly smothering me with all of his enormous muscles in various states of contraction, it wasn't hard to see that the whole process was in fact completely disgusting and demeaning for him. At the end of that day I made a long monologue expressing how much I was passionate about him and how I wished that he would be more stupendously muscular and monumental for the Mr Olympia contest in two days. He was so happy he genuinely, wholeheartedly held me into his arms right there maybe for the first time.
 
No, I hadn't. And the next morning I found him devastated, in a state of panic, as he hadn't received the gains he was expecting. Angry, misty eyed, shooting roids into his body like there was no tomorrow - or because there was, rather - and refraining from releasing his rage upon me. So I told him "Maybe I know why this hasn't worked..." and he looked at me with plain fury in his eyes.
 
He thought I hadn't been really trying to help him! That I had been toying with him, deceiving him on purpose!
 
Yes, I had, of course. I added then : "If you remember when we met the first time, at some point... a drop of my... semen... had... fell on you." His eyes widened, he was puzzled, processing the information... My guess is that his brain had erased that fact. The trauma that it must have had been for him, surely. After a few seconds his face lit up, he jumped all over me and all hell broke loose.
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Supercrav
Ha ha, no, quite the opposite! For the remaining of that day he did nothing but milk me dry. He grabbed my cock - which had already been quite solicited by itself the last 48 hours - and fiercely fought to obtain every last drop of sperm that he possibly could. Ignoring his own tastes and inhibitions, he wanted to cover every single inch of his muscles with my spunk. He quickly discovered that rubbing my cock against his pecs, biceps, abs and armpits was a good way to get my juices flowing. He was determined, helpless and brutal. His calloused hands ripped the skin off my bleeding shaft but it didn't lessen his frenzy. I lost consciousness at some point.
 
What? Oh no, I didn't regret anything, I loved every second of it. When I woke up he was still working on it. Quite tired though, at the end of his rope if I may say so. Finally one last drop appeared, I have no idea how many times he had made me come that day. He reached at the drop with his finger, then brought it to his mouth. Realizing the atrocity of what he just had done, he stood up and had a bad gag reflex starting. I managed to stand up too, rushed to the kitchen counter, and grabbed a glass of water, handing it to him to save him out of his misery. Good thing I had prepared the glass of water in advance. And put two nice drops of serum in it. He gulped it down. I think he was crying, then. He went to sleep, not in his bed with me but in a guest room, that he locked.
 
The answer of your question is well known, it's part of bodybuilding history. The next morning he was a monster.
 
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