Recommended Posts


Like many of you, I'm social distancing, and had a little time to write. This Coronavirus pandemic inspired me to write a series of short stories, each with muscle-obsessed characters having a little fun (or maybe not, in the case of one), while the pandemic rages in the larger world around them. There are 5 stories that all take place in the same un-named New York neighborhood.

Growth: Scott and James are two friends, bored out of their minds while in isolation. When they decide to workout to pass the time, James reveals a new supplement that promises miraculous results.

Sex: Seamus is Gay and obsessed with his huge alpha-male friend, Jamie. The only problem: Jamie is straight. But luckily for Seamus, Jamie's girlfriend, Carmen, has a surprise request for both of them.

Theft: Nick is young, buff, and hot. His life couldn't get any better. But it could get worst. Does the sexy MILF, Grace, want to fuck him or does she want something else.

Strength: Nathan is a skinny, lazy teen, stuck at home with his annoying kid sister. Suddenly, life get's interesting when he sees the size of his neighbor's two friends, and the things they can do.

Domination: Little Wayne is a slave to his demanding 330-lb boyfriend, Connor, whom he calls master. Master wants to have some fun! 

Read all the stories or only the one that piques your interest the choice is yours. These are: "Corona Tales" 



“What the fuck are we gonna do, Scott?” James said. “Nothing’s open except the grocery store and they’re pretty much empty.”

            “We have Netflix,” I said.

            James let out a grunt of disapproval. “This is a boredom not even Netflix can solve. I can’t believe we have 2 weeks of this shit. No movie theaters. No clubs. No parades, concerts, restaurants!” He grabbed his hair and pulled dramatically, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

            I shook my head and smiled sympathetically. The governor had shut down the state due to a viral pandemic that was sweeping the globe. With 20,000 reported cases and 1500 deaths in New York alone it was too little too late, but oh well. Honestly, I didn’t mind being shut in. I was a homebody anyway. My roommate, James, however had to be out doing something. He liked to be around people. I just liked being around him. To put it plainly: James was hot, a total package. While my looks were average, he was an 11 out of 10. It was really no wonder that he enjoyed being around people. Wherever he went he was the center of attention, like a great celestial body pulling everything around him into his gravitational field.

            James had dark hair, ‘styled’ messy and olive skin that belied his Mediterranean roots. His jaw was square and peppered with a five-o clock shadow and his eyes were honey brown. And don’t get me started on his body, a sight I was blessed to see on several occasions. He liked to work out. and it showed in how he filled out a shirt, bulging in all the right places. I worked out as well so I looked fit, but James had the genetics of a top-level physique competitor. He’d rival any pro if only he were bigger. Now that was a thought. If only he were bigger. My eyes wondered over his body as he sat their staring blankly at the TV. If only he were bigger…

            Let me stop and tell you I’m not gay. You may think I am, with the way I’m obsessing over James right now, but trust me I’m bisexual. I actually lean towards woman more often than not, but James could make even a straight man question himself.

            “Hello. Earth to Scott. What are you staring at?” James asked.

            I blinked. I was imagining you growing, every muscle on you swelling with size and power until your clothes couldn’t take it anymore and they burst at the seams. Your swelling form set free from the prison of those confining threads to expand ever outward with lean, hard, striated, veiny muscle. Your body growing so large it would never ever again be contained by clothes, not only because no clothes would fit you, but because it would be a disservice to mankind to cover you god-like magnificence with clothing ever again.  

            “Nothing dude. I just spaced out for a minute,” I said.

            Then I had an idea. The apartment had a gym in the basement. It was pretty well stocked, for an apartment gym, and always empty. Maybe I could get him to develop a pump and that would satisfy my desire to see him grow. My cock grew stiff at the thought.

            “I know what we can do.” I said, smiling. “Let’s go down to the gym and do a full body workout.”

            James stared at me, tilting his beautiful head, obviously considering it deeply. He shrugged his shoulders and said “Fuck it. It’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”


            “There’s a new supplement I just got that I’ve been meaning to try anyway,” James said.

            “New supplement?” I raised my eyebrows.

            “Yeah,” He pushed himself up and darted into his room. He returned with a small grey container in hand, and passed it to me.

            “Superpump,” I read aloud. The rest of it was in a foreign language. “What language is this.”

            “Not really sure. Maybe Russian or some other language in that family. I think it’s Russian, though, because it was that huge ass Russian guy at our gym that told me about it one day. You know who I’m talking about?”

            I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the container. There was a picture of a grotesquely sexy muscle man on the label, who had to be photoshopped because h looked bigger than Greg Golias.

            “The dude said this stuff works like magic. One scoop in a shake before working out and you’ll be amazed. Those were his exact words. You’ll be amazed. I whipped my phone out and ordered right on the spot.”

            “Cool.” I nodded. “Let’s see if it works.”

            The Russian guy James was talking about was the largest man I had ever seen outside of the Olympia. His arms had to be over 25 inches. And the dude seemed to grow consistently all year without ever putting on fat.

            We changed into out workout clothes: tanks, sweatpants, and sneakers. James mixed up a protein shake and added one heaping scoop of the Superpump. He poured a little into a glass for me, but he drank the lion’s share of it straight from the blender. The stuff didn’t taste bad.

            “Ready to get pumped!” I exclaimed, psyching him up.

            “Fuck yeah!” He slapped his hands down on my shoulders. “Let’s go!” 

            We grabbed a couple of water bottles and James did a most muscular pose before we headed out the door. The second he turned around I adjusted my swelling cock. This was going to be an awkward workout. It’s so difficult to hide a hardon in sweats.

            We found the gym empty, as expected. After a quick stretch and a warmup with light weights, we got straight to work. James grabbed two 60 lb. dumb-bells, sat on a weight bench and began pumping out rep after rep of shoulder presses. I was doing standing curls with 40 lbs. in each hand, while stealing glances at James. The cords of muscle in his arms rippled beneath the skin, contracting with each rep.

            His arms were a thing of beauty. Each muscle group was clearly defined, from the upside-down teardrops that formed his delts, to the croissant-like triceps. He let out guttural grunts on his final reps as he strained to finish his set. I always loved how hard he pushed himself when working out.

            “Yah!” He called out in pain and satisfaction as his arms fell to his sides and he dropped the weights to the mat. He leaned forward, shoulders pumped and glistening with sebum and sweat.

            I put my dumb-bells back on the rack, and felt the telltale tightness of a pump in my own arms.

            “Feels good doesn’t it?” James asked, between breaths.


            “Getting a pump.”

            “Yeah, man. It does.” I flexed my biceps, knowing that he would do the same.

            James bought his arms up into a double bicep pose, forming two perfect peaks wrapped in a near symmetrical network of blue veins. He was so symmetrical it was like an artist had painted half of him and while the paint was still wet, folded the paper in two, to form the other half.

            “I don’t know why you don’t compete,” I said.

            “I’m not big enough for that.”

            I impulsively reached out and squeezed his bicep. A quick, playful squeeze between bros. Just long enough to feel it hardness in my hand.

            “You’re big enough for a local show,” I said. Though I agree, you should be bigger.

            “I’ll think about it.” He grinned. “Who knows, if this Superpump works as good as the Russian says I might just do it.”

            We continued our workout, moving from exercise to exercising with no real order, just having fun and passing time. Throughout the workout James’ pump went from the normal to the insane. Every muscle was swollen. I had developed a pump as well, but nothing like what I was witnessing on James.

            I was doing lateral raises while James was laying on the bench doing dumb-bell presses with 100 lbs. in each hand. As I watched the mounds of meat that were his pecs contract It seemed the cleavage between them was growing deeper with each rep. The slabs of muscle widened as well, right before my eyes, pushing his nipples out from behind the straps of his tank. Impossible. This was no ordinary pump.

            Looking down at my own body, I could see changes as well. I looked a little bigger here and there, but James was flat out inflating. He seemed oblivious to it. It had to be the Superpump. James had taken more of it than I did, so he was getting a greater effect. Combine that with his superior muscle building genetics and…

            James let the weight fall and sat up on the bench. “God! This fucking pump is unbelievable! And I feel like I could lift all night!”

            My cock sprung to attention. It was the fasted boner I had ever had, going from flaccid to turgid in the time it took James to utter his sentence. I quickly adjusted it, hoping he hadn’t seen the pitched tent in my sweats.

            “You know, I’m not sure that’s a normal pump.”

            “What do you mean?” James looked at me expectantly.

            “I think that Superpump is making you physically grow.”

            “Get the fuck outta here.” He laughed. “You can’t physically grow more mass by a noticeable amount in less than an hour. There’s laws of physics and shit.”

            “Didn’t the Russian say it worked like magic?”

            “Figure of speech,” James said, dismissively.

            “How much did you weigh this morning?”

            “190.” He said.

            “There’s a scale over there. Weigh yourself.”

            He stared blankly at me, then shook his head. “Ok, just to prove you wrong.” He rose, and I could see his cobra back was pushing his arms away from his side. He stepped on the scale and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “210!”

            “210!” I repeated. “A full 20 pounds more.”

            “No way!” He hopped off the scale and began looking himself over in the mirror, flexing, poking, and rubbing. Then he peeled off his sweat soaked tank, revealing the divine sight of his brick-like abs.

            “Fuuck!” I said aloud. My hardon was painful, stretched to its limits, rising above my waistband onto my stomach.

            “Fuck is right, dude. The Russian said that stuff was like magic and he wasn’t lying. This is incredible.”

            James was clearly infatuated with his own body. He nipples had swollen, looking like hard little pacifiers, pushed downward by the bulk of his pecs. A bulge was growing in his sweats, snaking down his left thigh, thick as a toilet paper tube. God! Everything about him was perfect! Then a though struck me.

            “James, It’s obviously the working out that’s activating the Superpump. So how about we keep going and see just how big you can get?”

            “I like the way you think, man.”

            And so, James continued lifting, more and more reps with more and more weights, until he had maxed out every machine and lifted the heaviest dumb-bells. Several times I caught myself absentmindedly stroking my raging hardon through my sweats, but James was so focused on his own growth that he never seemed to notice. After an hour of intense pumping James’ body was nearly unrecognizable. Just mounds upon mounds of striated veiny muscle fighting for space on his frame. His legs had grown so large his sweats now looked like legging stretched tight across his shelf-like glutes and quads like loafs of bread pressed together.

            The growth had stopped and I suggested he weigh himself. He was all too eager. He swaggered over to the scale and stepped on it. 260 lbs. of solid beef. I nearly fainted. James began flexing, smiling widely as I looked him over. The finest specimen of a man I had ever laid eyes upon.

            “Well come on dude and have a feel,” James said. “And not like you grabbed my bicep before. Really feel me up. I know you want to.”

            “Whaa?” I temporarily lost the ability to speak.

            “I’ve got two working eyes you know. You’ve been eyeing my muscles, practically salivating, for the longest time, even before we got down here. And that hardon! Dude, you know if they last this long your supposed to call a doctor.” He laughed.

            I blushed.

            “Are you asking me to worship your muscles?”

            “It’s what you want isn’t it?” Jason grabbed his sweats and with one quick yank pulled them off revealing his stunning legs. He tossed the torn fabric aside. “It’s alright.”

            I placed a hand on each pec. He bounced them. The vibration of those thick slabs of meat was enough to send waves of pleasure through me. The size. The power. It was all so much and it was all in my grasp. My fantasy had come to life by way of some magic. As the world outside descended into chaos my world in here was perfect.

            My hands wandered to the mounds of his shoulders and squeezed the hard muscle.

            “I’m so fucking horny,” James said. “Suck my nipples.”

            I did, taking his tender nipples into my mouth, tasting his salty skin, caressing his pecs with my tongue. He moaned in pleasure. His strong arms enveloped me.

            “We’ve got two weeks of quarantine,” James said. “Just you and me and the rest of that container of Superpump. I think I finally know what we’re gonna be doing.”

  • Like 11

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites


Seamus could hear the clank of weights coming from the basement gym. Jamie was down their lifting as he had been nearly every day since the Coronavirus quarantine began a week prior. That man was workout obsessed and it showed. Seamus had known him 8 years and, in that time, Jamie had grown consistently from mildly athletic to pro-bodybuilder in looks. Still, it seemed he was always chasing more, ever hungry for more size and strength.

            The stairs to the basement creaked under the weight of heavy footfalls and Seamus knew Jamie was finished with his two-hour workout. The door swung open and his hulking housemate appeared, crowding the doorway with his mass. His sweat soaked muscles were pumped to the max, threatening to burst out of his paper-thin skin.

            “The beast rises from his lair,” Seamus said, flippant. In his mind a series of scenarios was playing out between him and Jamie. Scenarios that involved a bed and copious amounts of lube.

            “Ha ha,” Jamie said. “You really should join this beast sometime in his lair. Put some meat on those skinny arms of yours.” Jamie reached out and grabbed Seamus’ arms enveloping his upper arm with his manly paw. “In all the time I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lift a weight.”

            It was true. Seamus wasn’t much of a fan of weightlifting. He did his running and that was exercise enough for him. Sometimes he’d run with his old college buddy, Nick Natelli, and other times he’d go alone. Running had given him a lean, svelte figure that complimented his small frame. Jamie on the other hand was destined for size. He would look downright unnatural without a hundred pounds of extra muscle on his towering, wide body.

            “I get my exercise,” Seamus said.

            “Whatever man, but honestly we need to work out together sometime.”

            Seamus would have loved to, honestly. But he couldn’t be in the same room with Jamie while he was working out. Jamie was a rugged looking man, not traditionally handsome, but with the look Seamus adored, messy dark hair the color of rich earth and a trim beard framing an angular face. With that head on the body of Adonis (if Adonis was on hearty dose of roids), Jamie was a thirst trap. If Seamus had to watch him lift weights, listen to his grunting as he pumped his muscles bigger and bigger, he would blow his load right then and there. He wouldn’t be able to help it. He had cum hands-free before, just watching a flexing video on YouTube.

            “Is Carmen back?” Jamie asked.

            “No. The lines at the store are probably around the block.”

            Carmen was Jamie’s girlfriend. She shared the house with them. Seamus envied her. How lucky she was to get to sleep with the ideal man. She had left two hours ago to get some groceries. Seamus had thought they had enough food to last two weeks, but Jamie had eaten through it like a mad man, but a growing boy has to eat so he couldn’t be too man at him. Maybe it was asking too much to expect a man accustom to 8-egg omelets to have 6-egg omelets instead.

            “Man, I hope she comes back soon. I’m horny as fuck!”

            “I can see.” Seamus eyed the boner in Jamie’s nylon shorts.

            “If she doesn’t come back soon, I might just have to take care of it myself, if you know what I mean.” Jamie tapped Seamus gently on the shoulder with a clenched fist and grinned.

            Seamus laughed. He wanted to say he could take care of it for him, but he didn’t. There was nothing about Jamie that would imply he would ever like a man. In all the time Seamus had known him, he was always with a woman, not single even once. It was as if there was a queue of women waiting their turn to be with him whenever one of his relationships ended. Seamus had accepted that he would only be Jamie’s friend, his little gay friend, whose fantasies could only play out in his mind.

            Jamie stepped past him and entered the kitchen. Seamus followed, wondering what it would be like to run his hands across that wide back, with so many ridges and valleys I was like a topographical map.

            Seamus watched as Jamie took a ready-made protein shake from the fridge, that Carmen had prepared for him before she left, and chugged it in one go. When the shaker cup hit the counter, they heard the front door open and shut and both men turned their heads toward the kitchen door.

            Carmen entered wearing an N95 mask on her face and blue latex gloves on her hands, carrying four large grocery bags in her arms. She was a strong woman, with an athletic build that curved in all the right places, caramel skin and blonde highlights in her black hair.

            “Oh babe!” Jamie said. “Am I glad to see you.”

            “Hungry?” She asked, putting the bags on the island.

            “I’m hungry alright.” Jamie darted across the kitchen and pulled her close, cupping her round ass and raising her off the ground. He kissed her neck and said. “I’m hungry and you’re looking like a snack.”

            Carmen giggled. “You’re all sweaty!”

            “You like that.”

            She giggled again, nodding her head. “Mhhhm.”

            “Let’s save the groceries for later,” Jamie said. He pressed his erection into her. “You feel that.”

            “You’re an animal,” Carmen said, before kissing him on the lips.

            Jamie carried her from the room as she rubbed her small hands over his massive body. Seamus stood, leaning against the counter and shaking his head in jealousy. “Lucky bitch.” He proceeded to put the groceries away.

            Unexpectedly, Jamie returned less than 5 minutes later. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen with a serious expression on his face, staring at Seamus. His erection was still prominent. Seamus couldn’t help but wonder: what gives?   

            After Jamie stared for an inordinate amount of time Seamus could sense a rising tension. To cut it, he joked. “That was fast. Never knew you to be a minute-man.”

            “We had a discussion,” Jamie said, stepping further into the kitchen.

            “Uh, OK,” Seamus said. “About what?”

            “Carmen wants a threesome.” Jamie bowed his head and stared at the floor, then turned only his eyes upward, like a child who did something bad and didn’t want to make direct eye contact.

            Seamus’ eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped open. He didn’t know what to say.

            “Like, Now.” Jamie continued. “I told her sure I’d find a girl after the quarantine. She said she wanted two guys. I said OK I’ll ask around. She said we got someone right here. And I said you probably wouldn’t be interested in having a threesome with a woman in the mix, and that we were friends and it would be awkward…”

            And suddenly Seamus stopped listening. This big, sexy, meathead of a friend was rambling on and on and he couldn’t hear any of it. He was already in the bedroom. The threesome was already happening in his mind. Oh, fuck yes, he’d do it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole room was full of women as long as Jamie was there naked!

            “Yeah, OK. I’ll do it.”

            And Jamie was rambling on.

            “I’ll fucking do it man!”

            Jamie stopped his chattering. “You will?”

            Seamus nodded

            “You and I have never done anything like this before?”

            “The world might literally be ending,” Seamus smirked. “Now is as good a time as any to try something new.”

            Jamie smiled. “Well, come the fuck on little man.”

            When they entered Jamie’s bedroom, Carmen was dead center on the king-sized bed, reclined across a navy-blue comforter. She was topless, her perky tits on full display, and smiling widely. “He agreed,” She said, rolling to the edge of the bed and coming to her feet.

            “Yeah. He seems eager, too.” Jamie said.

            Eager? Jamie didn’t know the half of it.

            Carmen sauntered over to them, across the dimly lit room, and placed a gentle hand on Seamus’ shoulder. She wore tight blue jeans and black stilettos. 

            “Jamie is big into having his muscles worshipped,” She said. “I enjoy worshipping them. Do you like muscular men?”

            “Yes.” Seamus said.

            “Good, we’ll worship him together.” She looked Jamie in the eyes and ran a red fingernail gently down his thick chest. “And see where it goes from there.”

            Seamus stripped naked. Carmen followed suit, kicking her heels to the side which dropped her down several inches. She’s rose only to Jamie’s nipple. Seamus came just to his shoulders. His average sized cock was painfully erect as he thought about the thick member ready to be freed from Jamie’s shorts.

            Seamus took the left side and Carmen the right. In no time the two were in synch, guiding each other with just a look. Both their hands reached for Jamie’s shorts, pulling them down right along with the underwear, freeing the beast within. Jamie’s cock flopped out and bobbed, heavily. Seamus had never seen it so close. Its veiny shaft was arched upward slightly. Amazingly thick throughout, but thicker at the base, tapering to a bulbous swollen head, pink and tender.

            He reached for that beautiful massive cock and squeezed it gently. Hard as an iron bar. Seamus licked his lips. He was ready to taste it, but Carmen touched his hand. He looked at her and followed her gaze upward to the towering muscleman between them. Jamie was in a double bicep pose, flexing hard. His muscles, still pumped from his workout, looked twice as big as normal. And he was so wide. Every muscle on him exuded power and sex appeal. Pure, testosterone pumped masculinity.

            The cock would have to wait, Seamus knew. That course was yet to come. First the appetizer. He rose, plunging his head into Jamie’s hairy pits. The pungent odor filled his nostrils, intoxicating him with lust. He squeezed and clawed, rubbed and licked Jamie’s muscles. Carmen did the same. At times their hands would touch from across Jamie’s wide frame, as one would enter the others territory. Seamus reaching for the right side. Carmen for the left.

            Jamie let out moans of pleasure interspersed with the occasional utterance.



            “Feel that.”

            “Worship me.”

            “yeah, like that.”

            Jamie tried a dozen or more poses as his two worshippers ran their hands along his body, from his diamond calves and teardrop quads to his capped deltoids and step-like traps. Seamus could tell from the look in Jamie’s eyes that he was reveling in it, his ego feeding on the worship. Jamie’s cock seemed to grow larger from it. It was impossibly swollen and leaking pre-cum like a faucet. The muscleman’s eyes rolled back briefly and when they returned, there was a different look in them. Jamie’s mouth twisted into a crooked, toothy grin that betrayed more than pleasure. A hunger.

            Jamie leaned forward and roared as he performed a most muscular pose. Tendons and veins popped out everywhere across his upper body. So many striations. So much size. So…much…power!

            “We’ve awakened the beast,” Carmen said, seductively. “Are you ready?”

            “For what?” Seamus said.

            Carmen smiled.

            “Flex!” Jamie shouted.

            Seamus was caught off-guard at first. Did Jamie just ask him to flex? Then he repeated it. “Flex!” And Seamus did so. Jamie pulled him close

            “Look at that.” Jamie said. “My arms are three times as big as his. Do you see that?”

            “I see it.” Carmen said. She was rubbing her clit now.

            “Do you like that, babe?”

            “Yes!” Carmen shouted, rubbing herself faster and faster. “I love how big you are compared to him. It’s so hot, seeing his puny, pathetic, body next to yours.”

            Under any other circumstance Seamus might have been insulted, but here in the presence of his muscular friend, that denigration was hot. So hot. Now he was leaking pre-cum as well.

            “Lift him.” Carmen commanded.

            Jamie put one hand between Seamus’ legs and the other on the nape of his neck and, with frightening ease, lifted Seamus overhead. He had never been lifted before. It was amazing to be at the mercy of one so strong.

            “Throw him.” Carmen said.

            And Seamus flew, landing on the bed.

            Carmen laughed. “My Hercules!” She was still rubbing her clit.

            “Let me help you with that.” Jamies grabbed he like a rag doll and lifted her up. She slung her legs over his shoulders as he buried his head in her wet pussy. He was performing oral while supporting her full weight like it was nothing!

            “Take is cock!” Carmen said. “Now!”

            She didn’t need to ask him twice. Seamus dove for Jamie’s throbbing fuck stick and took it all into his mouth, sucking and using his hands to toy with Jamie’s huge ball sack. The sounds of slurps intermingled with moans of pleasure. Seamus could feel the cum churning within Jamie’s member. It was ready to spasm and erupt, but Jamie pulled away. Seamus was left with his mouth agape, a string of saliva hanging between his lower lip and the head of Jamie’s cock.

            Jamie pulled away from Carmen’s pussy and sat her down. “I’m saving my seed for your ass, not your mouth,” Jamie said.

            Seamus had edged him to the brink of ejaculation, but had to stop. He could only imagine the fountain of cum that was about to pour into him.

            “She’s wet. I’m wet. Let’s fuck!” Jamie said.

            “Have you ever fucked a woman?” Carmen asked.

            Seamus shook his head no.

            “And I’ve never fucked a man.” Jamie said.

            Carmen extended her hand. Seamus took it. She led him to the bed, twisting her ass seductively. She fell back on the bed and pulled him toward her. Seamus fell atop her, his head between her tits. He touched them. Her nipples were hard, in stark contrast to the soft fatty flesh around them. She guided his cock into her. All the while Seamus could feel Jamie’s eyes on him. Did he enjoy seeing another man fuck his girl?

            Seamus began to thrust, pushing into her, harder and faster. He remembered he wasn’t wearing a condom. Should he ejaculate inside of her? What if she got pregnant? Then he remembered she was on the pill.

            “Don’t lose your rhythm,” Carmen said, between moans.

            “Why would I lose my rhythm,” Seamus asked, breathless. He was panting heavy.

            Then he felt it. He was enveloped by Jamie’s massive frame. Two arms, thick as logs came down on either side of him and Jamie entered him from behind. His massive cock stretched Seamus hole like he had never been stretched before. There as a wet squishiness. Ah, thank goodness Jamie used lube.

            “Fuuuuck!” Seamus screamed.

            Jamie’s began to fuck him as he fucked Carmen. Amazingly, he kept time with Seamus’ fast thrusts. There was friction. There was heat. They all began sweat and scream and moan until…release. Seamus came first. Followed quickly by Jamie, whose copious load began to leak out of seamus’ ass and dribble onto the bed.

            They collapsed into a sweaty pile, content.

            “Wanna do this again tomorrow?” Carmen asked.

            “Hell, do you want to do it again after dinner?” Jamie asked.

            “Guys, we can do it again right fucking now.” Seamus said.

            They laughed. Quarantine had just gotten better.


  • Like 5

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites


It started, like so many days in his life started, with exercise. Nick jogged down Neville St., past the same Victorian era manors and old-growth sycamores he’d seen many mornings. His baby-blue under armor shirt clung to his sweaty pecs and tightly chiseled mid-section. He was heading to his parent’s house for a workout. Since the public gyms were all closed because of the pandemic, his father’s garage gym was his next best option. He felt extra inspired to workout today, after passing Sal’s junk yard on his run. Nick had seen two of the biggest men he’d ever laid eyes on talking with Sal. He thought about how amazing it would feel to be as big as them.

            “Young man!” He heard a woman’s voice.

            Nick stopped, placed his hands on his hips and looked around. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and panted heavily. He didn’t see anyone at first and was ready to call out. Then he saw her, through the branches of overgrown rhododendrons, standing on a porch. The house was far from the sidewalk, a towering, old thing on a large corner lot. How many times had he passed this house and never paid it any mind? The house could have been elegant once, but it had seen better days. Now it was a cracked and faded structure straight from an old horror movie that stood in stark contrast to the beauty on the porch.

            “You talking to me?” Nick moved closer to the rhododendrons. There was a low fence and a gate in front of them. He slung his beefy arms over it, leaning in, waiting for a response.

            “Yes. Can you come here?”

            He thought about it. People were supposed to be social distancing, especially with strangers, but… What the hell? He lifted the latch on the gate and walked in, stepping across an uneven cobblestone path. The woman stood, still as a porcelain figurine. Only her sheer yellow sun dress moved, billowing in the spring breeze. She was in her forties by the look of her. Her walnut brown hair was streaked with a single line of gray. The neck of her dress was cut low revealing a tease of cleavage.

            Nick was only 21, but he found this woman hot as hell. A real MILF. The closer he came to her, the more apparent her beauty became. Elegance and grace with just enough makeup to accent, without making it look like she was trying too hard.

            “Yes, Mam?”

            “Please, honey, call me Grace.”

            He eyed the mailbox by the door. It read Arbour. The name was familiar, but he didn’t know why. Nick couldn’t think straight. His mind was filled with the fantasies of what he would like to do with Grace, as the growing python in his shorts could attest to.

            “I’m Nick.”

             She extended her hand and Nick shook it.

            “You look like a strong young man,” Grace said. “I’ve watched you pass by many mornings from the window up there.” She pointed to an oval window high above the porch than looked like some reptilian eye wreathed in moss and vines.

            Nick smiled, blushing. He shrugged. “Well, I keep myself fit.” He unconsciously bounced his pecs.

            “You bench press a lot?” Grace smiled. A beautiful smile.

            “275.” Nick said.

            “And how big are those arms?”

            Nick flexed. “Oh, these? About 20 inches, I guess.” He knew exactly. They were 19.5 in, but you have to round up.

            “May I?” Grace reached out and Nick ascended the stairs, stopping just a couple of feet from her. She squeezed his arm and beamed.

            “It’s so big! I can’t even reach around it!” She giggled. “You’re perfect.”

            “Perfect for what, or are we talking in general?” Nick laughed.

            Grace ran a hand through his blonde hair and let it slide down his cheek. She took his chin in her hand and turned his head from side to side. “Perfect,” she mumbled. Her face was serious.

            “Do you need something Grace?” Please say sex. Please say sex. Please say sex.

            “I need a strong young man like you to help me move a few heavy things.”

            “Ok.” Nick grinned. He knew that was just a ploy to get him inside. The cougar definitely wanted to fuck. He’d move a few things. She’d offer him a drink afterward, and then say in a sultry voice ‘Is there something else I can do to thank you?’ as she ran her hand slowly down his torso to his eager crotch.

            Nick followed Grace inside. The house looked much better on the interior. It had a modern, open floor plan, with chic furniture in earth tones.

            “Through here,” Grace said.

            She showed Nick a room filled with solid oak furniture, antiques by the look of them. There were also huge pots filled with soil, Iron stands with solid marble tops, and stone busts of famous dead people. ‘A few heavy things’ was an understatement. It was a lot of heavy things, but Nick made short work of it. He moved everything she asked him to. Some things into the living room, some things outside, some things to the basement.

            A lot of the stuff was dusty and she told him to take his shirt off if he didn’t want to get it dirty. He obliged, and she seemed quite pleased with what she saw. Her eyes followed him everywhere. It would have been creepy, if she hadn’t been so hot.

            When he was finished, Nick plopped down on her black leather sofa, still shirtless, his tanned skin glistening with sweat.

            “Would you like a drink?” She asked. “I have cold beers. You’re old enough for that right?” She smiled.

            “Sure, that would be great.” Nick stared into her eyes, sensing the desire. She wanted him bad. His father’s gym would have to wait. He was getting a different kind of workout today. She returned in short order with two cold Coronas on a silver platter, already open and with limes sticking out of them. Nick laughed at the irony.

            She held up hers. “In honor of the men and women, fighting the virus. May the world overcome!”

            Nick lifted his and they tapped rims. He squeezed the lime in, and drank. When he was finished Grace walked over to him and stepped behind the couch. He twisted his head around, following her and felt her hand on his shoulder. “See, anything you like, hun?”

            “I do.” Nick replied, drawing out the ‘o’.

            “There’s a bathroom upstairs, second door on the right. Go wash yourself up.”

            Nick rose, a little unsteady on his feet. Moving all that stuff had been quite the workout. He climbed the stairs, but before reaching the bathroom, he stopped and peered through a cracked door on the left. He could see a hospital bed with someone in it, and his curiosity got the better of him. He walked to the door and gently pushed it open. The hinge whined. The thinnest man he had ever seen laid on the bed, hooked up to tubes and sensors. He appeared to be as young as Nick by his complexion, but was devoid of flesh. Skin shrink-wrapped over bone. Joe felt nauseous. He clutched his stomach and winced.

            “My son.” Grace said. “Frankie.” Nick flinched. Grace was so close behind him, he could feel her hot breath on the nape of his neck. He hadn’t heard her come up the stairs.

            Then there was a moment of recollection. Arbour. That name. Frankie Arbour. Yes, Nick remembered it now. Skinny Frankie Arbour. The kid who always seemed to get skinnier every year. He and the other boys on the football team used to make fun of him. Every day, they made his life a living hell in high school. They would force him into playing games of strength he had no chance of winning. They would shove him for no reason, steal his lunches, and taunt him with names like ‘stick-man’ and ‘twiggy’. Nick had been the ringleader, as captain of the football team. He knew he had been an asshole back then and truly regretted it. In college he had matured and changed his ways, probably because he was no longer the biggest or most athletic guy around. He had been humbled. If he had seen his former victim again, he would have apologized, but Frankie had disappeared early Senior year and no one had seen him since.

            “What’s wrong with him?” Nick asked.

            “He has Richoltz Syndrome. It causes his muscles to slowly waste away. I tried to give him as normal a life as I could for as long as I could. Sadly, I couldn’t make it a happy one. In school, he was bullied constantly for how weak and small he was.”

            Nick glanced back at her, the pain inside of him grew. Grace’s eyes were beginning to water. I’m sorry, he thought, but didn’t dare to say.

            “I eventually had to take him out of school,” Grace continued. “He was too weak to carry his books. Then too week to stand or walk. Now he can only blink. One blink for no. Two blinks for yes.” She pushed past him.

            Nick remained in the doorway and watch her lean over her son’s bed. She appeared soft around the edges. Was it the dim light in the room?

            “I found him, sweetie,” She said, staring down at her son. “Are you ready?”

            Two blinks.

            Now everything in his field of vision softened, growing blurry like he was seeing it through a haze. His legs became cooked noodles and collapsed beneath his weight. He caught himself and fumbled on his knees, trying to get up, but couldn’t. What was in that beer?

            He looked up and saw Grace’s blurry figure peering down at him, all her beautiful features washed away. As darkness took hold of him, he felt fear. Then he felt the cold hard floor press against his cheek.

            Nick awoke seated in a heavily built chair beside the hospital bed. Thick leather straps held his arms and legs in place and one around his neck kept his head from moving forward, but he could turn it from side to side. He felt something on his head like a crown and then when he noticed a mirror on the other side of the room, he saw that the thing he was wearing was a metal ring with three circular pads pressed against his head. Frankie had on a something similar, and wires attached the two devices.

            Nick tensed and shook violently trying to free himself from the bonds.

            “Don’t waste your time, Nick,” Grace said. She was standing by a machine that looked like a disc jockey’s turn table, turning dials and pressing buttons.

            “What the fuck are you doing to me!?”

            “I’m giving my son your body.”

            She said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, Nick was caught off guard. She didn’t even lok him in the eye. Was she serious? What kind of fantasy world was this crazy bitch living in?

            “You’re what?” Nick asked, incredulous.

            “You heard me.”

            Nick felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. This couldn’t be happening. This was impossible. It was a joke. It had to be. “Very funny, Grace. Hahaha. Joke’s over. Now let me go.”

            “It took me so long to figure out how to do it,” Grace intoned, in a trance. “I was running out of time. My little Frankie doesn’t have much time left. Richoltz Symdrome is fatal. But he hung on, my little trooper, long enough for me to build my device.”

            “Look, Mrs. Arbour, please just let me go. this isn’t funny.” Nick was trembling trying to break free, every muscle in his body was tensed.

            “It will be quick,” she said, still working with her dials and checking charts and meters. “You should be honored, Nick. Frankie requested you, special. He always wanted a big, strong, muscular body like the athletes who tormented him day after day. All he ever wanted was to be like you, but he couldn’t because he was a prisoner in a failing body. When I told him I could free him, it was just before he lost the ability to speak. I remember the conversation like it was yesterday.” Tears were streaming down her face.

            “Mom, you could give me any body I want?

            “Yes, honey.”

            “What happens to them?”

            “They go into your body”

            “I want Nicholas Natelli’s body.”

            “Was he a classmate of yours?”

            “Yes. A bully. A monster.”  

            “Why do you want him?”

            “Because he deserves this frail body. He never used his muscles for good.”

            Grace was scowling at Nick, now. “He called you a monster!” Her words, like acid. 

            “Frankie, I’m sorry man!” Nick screamed. Tears streamed down his face. “I’m not that same person. I’m good. I help people. I’m not a bully anymore. Believe me! I’m sorry about the swirlies, the names, pushing you around, all of it!”

            “Too little, too late,” Grace said. “He needed kind words and a friend back then. Now he needs a new body.”

            “You don’t want to ruin my life, Grace, please!” Nick pleaded. “I have a life, parents, a girlfriend!”

            “My son has a life too! And his means more to me than yours ever will.”

            She flipped a lever on her device and Nick felt a strong current flow through him. He gritted his teeth and trembled violently, digging his nails into the arm of the chair. Then, suddenly, it stopped. He was motionless, staring at the ceiling, unable to speak or move his arms and legs. But he could hear.

            “How does it feel?” Grace asked.

            “Great!” He heard his voice respond.

            No. No. No. Nononononoooo!

            He turned his eyes as far as they would go and saw his old body standing beside the bed, looking down at him. Frankie was flexing it, feeling his knew muscular body. His stolen body!

            “Fuck, dude you’ve been taking real good care of this body. It’s twice the size it was in high school and ripped, too.” He was poking his new biceps and pecs, then he ran his hands along his cobblestone abs.

            Nick wanted to say ‘fuck you to hell’ but he could only watch in horror.

            “I’ve never kissed a girl,” Frankie said. “Never had sex. Never went to a party. Was never popular, or respected. But now, with this body I can have it all and more.” He hugged his mother, lifting her of the ground. She yelped in surprise. “Thank you, mom. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome honey. Anything for you.” Then she wagged a finger at him. “But you’ll need to hold off on having fun for a little while, there’s a pandemic going on out there and I didn’t give you this body so you could turn around and get sick.”

            “Wait, seriously?” Frankie asked.

            “Yeah, I know, bad timing,” Grace said.

            The mother and son, duo continued their banter as they walked to the door. Nick followed them with his eyes. Grace stopped in the doorway and turned around. “You know, Nick, I understand that you’re going to hate being trapped in that body, but if it’s any consolation, you won’t be in it much longer. If Frankie’s doctors are to be believed, that is.” She giggled, then smiled, the same smile she had shown on the porch. Why didn’t Nick see it before? That wasn’t a beautiful smile. It was a wicked one. 


  • Like 2
  • Thanks 1

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites


I was staring at the weight bench and dumbbells my father had bought me for Christmas and was immediately reminded of Ronnie Coleman’s famous quote: “Everybody wants to be a bodybuilder, but nobody wants to lift no heavy ass weights.” That was me. I had practically begged my parents for a weight set, but then I got it and used it once in three months. I wanted to be big and strong. No. I needed it. I was the frailest kid in my senior class, but I was just too lazy.

            After that first and only workout with the weights I was sore for days. I felt like my arms might fall off. Honestly, the shit kind of scared me. The weights were adjustable from 20 to 80 pounds. I had them set to 25 and even that was a struggle. I was just glad I was home alone and not at school. Other guys at my high school could lift 50s and I was getting killed by 25s. Everybody starts somewhere, right? Well it sucks when you feel like you’re starting 20 yards behind everybody else.

            And then there’s the eating. How does anyone find the time to eat as much as it takes to grow? I’m hard pressed to get two good meals a day. I wish I could dedicate myself to working out and eating, like I can dedicate myself to playing video games. Games, with characters who have the type of muscular body I want. I wish. I wish. I wish. I’m always wishing. Dad says I need to be a man of action and stop making excuses. I know that, but knowing and doing are two different things.

            “Nathan!” My little 8-year old sister, Alexis, called my name.

            “What!” I shouted back. Me and my sister were home from school. All schools were closed because of the Covid-19 pandemic gripping the world. I had hardly seen my parents once in two days because of it. They were both nurses, pulling double shifts at St. Michael’s Hospital. It was up to me to keep an eye on Alexis.

            She appeared in front of the door wearing pink pony pajamas, her hair in two golden pig tails. “You ate all the oreos!”

            “So,” I said. “There was only like six left.”

            “Oreos are my favorite. You could have left some.”

            I let out a low grumble. “You ate all the chips ahoy yesterday, and they’re my favorite, so call it pay back.”

            She put her hands on her hips. “I want something sweet and there’s nothing sweet in the house.”

            “Well then you shouldn’t have eaten all the chips ahoy yesterday.”

            She stomped her foot at that, and stormed off. Several minutes later I heard the door to our apartment slam. Shit! I ran out the apartment, past the elevator that said ‘Out of Order’, to the stairwell and called down to her.

            “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “To the deli!”

            Around here ‘the deli’ was Rosa’s Mercado. Alexis was safe to go there by herself. It was always open and Rosa knew me and Alexis. Also, I could see it from our balcony.

            “I’ll be watching you.” I said.

            No reply, as she continued hopping down the stairs, still in her pajamas, but with a jacket and sneakers on, as well. I walked to the balcony and leaned on the railing. Alexis ran out onto the sidewalk and looked both ways before crossing the street. Good girl.

            I followed her with my gaze until something more interesting across the street, caught my eye. Two huge shirtless dudes were standing in Sal’s Junk Lot. It wasn’t really a junk lot. It was Sal’s backyard, but he kept it like a junk lot. Metal scrap everywhere, no grass that wasn’t dead, and the obligatory ‘Beware of Dog’ sign, though he definitely didn’t have a dog.

            I glanced over at Alexis and saw her skip into Rosa’s, then I turned back toward Sal and his two friends. They were absolute monsters who must have weighed over 300 lbs. One was black and bald. The other was white with shoulder length brown hair tied back in a pony tail. Both were a good foot taller than Sal and carried some fat on their thick muscular frames. The black guy had a roid-gut with a little definition. The white guy more fat on his substantial gut and more hair as well. He was like a bear.

            Sal waved at me when he noticed me looking. I waved back. He was a friend of my father’s so he knew me well. Sal was a decently build guy, bigger than my old man, but the two men standing beside him made him look tiny. The black guy’s delts were as big as Sal’s head!

            “Let me introduce you,” Sal said.

            The street and sidewalk were pretty narrow and our apartment was only on the second floor so talking to them wasn’t a problem.

            “This is my cousin Vincent.” Sal pointed to the white guy. “And his friend Andre. Guys, this is Nathan.”

            We said our hellos and for some reason I blurted out, “You guys are freakin’ huge!” I just couldn’t control it.

            Vincent and Andre shared a look and laughed.

            “Are you guys pro bodybuilders?” I asked.

            “Nah,” Vincent said. “We’re just two guys that like growing big.”

            “There gym is closed ‘cus a the Corona,” Sal said, “So I told ‘em they could come by here and lift some things.”

            “Oh,” I nodded.

            Alexis came skipping down the street with an ice cream bar in her mouth and a pack of Oreos under her arm. She must have spent all her allowance for the week. She stopped and looked up at me and then looked through the chain-link fence that surrounded Sal’s property. She walked up to the fence and stared at Sal and the guys. Sal came up to the fence and crouched down. They started talking and Alexis pointed back at me, then waved Vincent and Andre over. They all looked at me briefly and smiled before going back to talking.

            I tried to hear what they were saying but they were talking in low voices, that didn’t carry across the street. Finally, Alexis stepped away from them and walked back to the apartment building. When she got upstairs, I darted into the living room and asked her what she said to them.

            Her mouth was covered in chocolate and she licked around it before she spoke. “I just said, my brother wants muscles like them but he’s too lazy to work for them. Then I told them about your weight set and how you never use it and maybe they should have it because then it wouldn’t be going to waste.”

            “What did you say all that for?”

            “Because it’s the truth,” she said, in her petulant tone. “You are too lazy to build muscles like that and your weight set should go to someone that’s not lazy so it can get some use!” She stuck out her tongue.

            “Get over here.” I reached out to grab her but she dodged me.

            “You couldn’t hurt me with those skinny arms.”

            “You’re skinnier,” I reminded her.

            “I’m an eight-year old girl, so I should be.”

            Touché. I turned around. I hardly wanted to go back on the porch after my sister embarrassed me, but I had to. Those two guys were so impressive I just had to see them again. When I got back on the porch, they had a series of weights spread out on the hard, brown earth in the clearing of Sal’s lot. Barbells and dumbbells that Sal must have had buries in some pile for years, because I had never seen them before. The metal was rusty in spots, where the black paint had chipped away, but I could still make out the number painted on the sides in white.

            I watched as they put three 45-lb plates on each side of a bar. It appeared to be a standard Olympic bar weighing 45 pounds. With the six plates that was a total of 315. I had seen guys on the football team bench that, but Sal didn’t have a bench out there so I figured they were going to deadlift it. I was wrong. Vincent bent over, bought it up like a deadlift, then, as fast as I’ve ever seen anyone move a weight, bought all 315 pounds overhead and began pressing it. Rep after rep after rep. I was too shocked to count how many he did. I just couldn’t believe he was shoulder pressing 315 pounds and making it look easy. Vincent dropped the weight to the ground and the plates sunk into the earth several inches on both ends.

            My mouth was agape when I heard Vincent shout “light weight!”

            Andre picked up the bar as easily as Vincent did and began pumping out an endless stream of reps. With less fat and hair on his body, I could see Andre’s muscle fibers bulging and tensing as he worked. God, it was impressive. Just then Alexis came onto the porch. She grabbed onto the railing and pressed her face against the bars like she was a prisoner in the county jail.

            “Whattyah looking at?” She asked.

            “Those guys just shoulder pressed 315 pounds for reps!”

            “Is that a lot?” She looked up at me.

            “When you went to the doctor, how much did you weigh?”

            She put a finger on her chin and looked at the sky. “Uuum, 52 pounds.”

            “Then they just lifted 6 of you.”

            “Wow. How many of you is that?”

            “I weigh 124, so that’s like 2 and a half of me.”

            “I’m not surprised they can lift that much. Look at them. They probably have more muscle in one of their arms than you have in your whole body.”

            I shook my head. “You don’t understand. That’s not normal. Even for big guys. That’s freak status.”

            “Impressive, right?” Sal called up to me.

            “Yeah!” I said.

            “And they’re just getting warmed up.”

            I watched Vincent put two more plates on the bar. I leaned forward. No way was he about to press 405. Vincent stood at the middle of the bar looked down at the weight. He tilted his head from side to side and shook his body to loosen up. Then he bent over and bought the weight up as he did before. Impossible. He began cranking out rep after rep as easily as he had before. This time I counted. 1. 2. 3…15! 15 reps!

            “No way!” I shouted. I had seen guys on YouTube do that for one or two reps with spotters and lifting belts. And none of them lifted it from the ground.

            Vincent and Andre were laughing at my exclamation.

            “I think the kid is impressed, Sal,” Andre said.

            “Impressed? I’m amazed.”

            Andre then took his turn and cranked out 15 reps as well.

            “How did you two get so strong?” I asked

            “Hard work,” Vincent said. “And lots of it.”

            After performing that many reps with all that weight, both Vincent and Andre’s upper bodies were looking pumped. I had to admit they looked really good.

            “What’s going on in your pants?” Alexis was looking to her left and was eye level with my crotch. I quickly adjusted it.

            “It’s nothing,” I said, slightly embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time I had gotten an erection from a muscular man, but it was the first time I had gotten one in front of my sister.

            “You’re weird,” Alexis said.

            “What’s all this racket out here?” I looked over at the balcony to our right and saw old Mrs. Gilmore and her husband stepping outside.

            “We’re watching the muscle men lift weights,” Alexis said “And Nathan’s peepee is acting weird.”

            I shot my sister a mean look. Too bad Covid-19 doesn’t’ kill healthy kids. I’ll have to do it myself. Luckily, it didn’t seem like the Gilmores paid much attention to her comment. They were both leaning on the balcony watching Vincent and Andre.

            “Good lord,” Mrs. Gilmore adjusted her glasses and squinted. “Those men are humongous. Like the Schwarzenegger fellow.”

            “Remember when I had muscles like that dear?” said Mr. Gilmore.

            “You only dreamed you had muscles like that, Fred.”

            “What are you talking about?” Mr. Gilmore raised his arms and flexed. “In my army days I was strong as a bull.”

            “And full of it, too.”

            I stifled a laugh. Mrs. Gilmore could be hilarious when she wanted to be.

            “Excuse me young man,” Mrs. Gilmore called down, pointing at Vincent. “Are you a professional strong man?”

            I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t 1922, but I kept my mouth shut.

            “We’re strong men,” Vincent. “Not professional.”

            “Do you bend iron bars and such,” Mrs. Gilmore asked. “When I was a little girl my father used to take us to the circus and I always loved watching the strong men bend things.”

            “Yeah, we can bend stuff,” Vincent said. “Sal, you got some stuff we can bend?”

            “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” Sal was looking around. Then he ran off behind a pile of junk. He returned with a handful of metal rods and a couple of frying pans. They weren’t the cheap, thin frying pans either. They were the high-quality stainless-steel kind. And the metal bars looked to be ¾ of an inch thick.

            “Watch this.” Vincent said. He took an iron bar and handed one to Andre.

            “Let’s do two,” Andre said. “Were getting a real audience.”

            When he said that, I look around and noticed more people had stepped out on their balconies. Ms. Derne was on the balcony immediately to my left, lighting a cigarette.

            “What a couple of hunks,” she said, then whistled.

            “You can say that again!” Rodney upstairs said. I leaned over the balcony and looked up. Rodney and his husband were wearing matching sweaters and sunglasses and had their eyes trained on the muscle show across the street.

            Vincent and Andre began to bend their bars. The veins and tendons in their necks popped out and their massive bodies trembled as they struggled against the steel. I almost thought they wouldn’t do it, but the rods began to bend. They gritted their teeth and growled, bending the steel more and more.

            “Oh wow, look at their chests.” Mrs. Gilmore said.

            “Their muscles look like they’re going to explode,” Alexis said.

            They had both bent the rods into U’s. That was impressive enough, considering the thickness of them, but they persevered, bending them further and further until they had created a loop. They each held their rods overhead and smiled as they were showered with cheers and claps. Mrs. Gilmore was clapping loudest of all. 

            “There like super heroes,” Someone on a lower balcony said. I bent over and saw some of the middle schoolers who hung out together in the building, watching the show as well.

            “Do the frying pans!” Alexis shouted.

            “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Gilmore said, turning toward Alexis and smiling. “I want to see that too.”

            Each of the strong men took a frying pan and looked it over.

            “These things are really solid,” Andre said, tapping his pan against one of the 45s on the ground.

            “Piece of cake,” Vincent said, flexing his arms, and grinning.

            They each pressed their pan into their thighs for leverage and began squeezing and pushing against the metal until the edge bent inward. Then they continued pushing and twisting the metal. Their forearms looked as big as my thigh and every tendon was rippling across them in waves like a series of steel cords beneath their skin. I had to adjust my crotch again. Within minutes they had rolled the pans into narrow cylinders.

            “Let me see that,” Sal said. He took Vincent’s pan and whistled. “Whoa, cus. I knew you two were strong but I wasn’t expecting this.”

            Vincent laughed, his muscle gut bouncing. “We just keep getting stronger.”

            “Damn right!” Andre said, going into a most muscular pose.

            There were whistles, clapping, and more cheering from the audience on the balconies. Now it looked like everyone who was stuck at home had come out to watch the two super men.

            “What’s the most you guys can lift overhead with one arm?” One of the middle schoolers asked.

            Vincent looked at Sal. “What’s the heaviest dumbbells you got around here?”

            Sal scratched his head. “I got some big suckers under that tarp over there. They were from an old strongman gym. Haven’t been moved since the day they were put there, cus no one can lift ‘em. I remember it took a couple of guys and a dolly to get in here.”

            Vincent swaggered over to the tarp and tossed it aside. He squatted down and squinted at the rusty dumbbells. They were absolutely colossal. I didn’t realize they made dumbbells that big.

            “Says they’re 250s,” Vincent said. “You sure that’s the heaviest you have?”

            “Well damn man,” Sal said. “Aint it heavy enough?”

            Vincent and Andre shared a look and laughed.

            “To answer your question kid,” Vincent said. “The most we can lift with one arm over head is more than 250 pounds, but 250 pounds is all we’ve got.”

            Vincent bent down, lifted the weight with both arms, bought it to his chest, then let his left arm fall to his side. With his right arm he hoisted the weight into the air and locked his arm into position.

            “Everyone count,” Andre said. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…”

            Everyone joined in and the sound of counting filled the street. By twenty Mississippi Vincent’s entire body was trembling. He dropped he weight to the ground, and waved his arms for the crowd to cheer.

            “That was good,” Andre patted Vincent on the shoulder. “But you cheated. You used two hands to get it off the ground.”

            Vincent rolled his eyes.

            “Here’s how it’s done.” Andre grabbed the 250-pound dumbbell with one hand and lifted it from the ground. Then using the force of his legs as much as his arms, he thrust the weight upward and locked his arm out above his head. But he could only hold it for 12 seconds.

            They had both just lifted more than twice my weight overhead, with one arm. I wondered what it must feel like to be than strong, that amazingly powerful. They probably have to be careful when shaking hands or they’ll crush them.

            “Man, I’m working up quite an appetite,” Andre said, patting his distended roid gut.

            “Yeah, but before we get some grub, let’s give our audience a grand finale,” Vincent said.

            I wondered what they could have possibly had in store. What could have been more impressive than the feats of strength they had already done?

            Vincent walked over to an old junk car and pointed at it. “Hey Sal, how much you think this weighs?”

            “About 2 tons.”

            “4000 pounds,” Vincent said. “Let’s go Andre. We’ll lift it from the middle. You get on that side.”

            4000 pounds! I had my hands on my head, not believing what I was about to see. Vincent and Andre took their positions. They bent down and grabbed under the edge of the car, taking some time to find the best spots to hold on to. Everyone watching was silent. Even the air seemed to go still, in anticipation. The two men began to lift. Every muscle in their bodies was bulging and flexing. They grimaced in pain as they pushed themselves to the limit. The Gilmore’s had their hands over their mouths. Ms. Derne was leaning so far over the railing, I thought she might fall to her death. My little sister was gripping the bars of the railing so tight she squeezed the blood out of her hands until they were bone white. I just stood there, mouth agape, but not breathing.

            The car rose, and rose, and rose. They lifted it waist high. Unbe-fucking-lievable! The crowd went wild. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, they had to take it to the next level. They began to walk with the car. Slow, measured steps. After they had gone several feet, they sat the car down, backed away from it, and took a bow.

            “Your pants are doing that thing again,” Alexis said.

            I quickly adjusted myself. “Will you stop looking, sis!” 

            “Well, that’s all folks!” Sal said, in his best Porky Pig voice, which was a terrible Porky Pig voice.

            “Hope you all enjoyed that!” Vincent said.

            The two strong men waved as the onlookers cheered and clapped louder than they had at any time before. I looked around at all those different people, men and women, young and old, gay and straight, who had gathered to watch Vincent and Andre, and I was amazed at how the mutual admiration of muscle and strength bought them together. It seemed to bring so much joy to their lives and they seemed genuinely impressed. I wanted that. I wanted people to look at me like that. And I knew just what I had to do. I darted inside the apartment, headed toward my room and my weight set. Finally, I had the inspiration I needed. Alexis followed after me.

            “Where are you going?” She said.

            “I’m going to do some hard work. Lots of it.”

            I lifted weights for the next two hours and didn’t care how sore I got.


  • Like 4

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites


It was the day of the master’s treat…

             Wayne pulled his car into the driveway of his orange-brick ranch style home. He grabbed the three bags of groceries from the trunk into his thin arms and walked to the door, but before he could get his keys out, the door swung open. Connor, the man who shared Wayne’s bed, filled the doorway with his considerable bulk.

            Connor was 6 ft 3 in, a full 8 inches taller than Wayne, and weighed an impressive 330 pounds of roided beef. He wasn’t competition lean, but you could still make out the shape of his abs beneath his furry midsection. Wayne liked the little fat Connor had on him. It only served to make him look more masculine and powerful, along with his dark beard and carpet of dense body hair.

            Wayne moved to enter he house, but Connor held up a wide hand, halting him. Everything on him was wide from his thick jaw and bull neck to his quads that made him waddle on his big size-14 feet.

            “You need to be cleaned before coming in,” Connor said. His voice was deep and commanding.

            “Seriously?” Wayne said, surprised.

            “Seriously, what?”

            “Seriously, master?” Wayne smiled. He must remember to show due respect.

            “Yes, I’m serious,” Connor said, “With the coronavirus all over out there, I’m not taking any chances. You will be sterilized. Honestly, you shouldn’t have even gone out.”

            “You needed food master,” Wayne said. “I have to keep you well fed so you can keep growing.”

            “True,” Conner replied, looking down at his bulging physique, pushing the fabric of his white tee to its limits, He flexed his triceps and squeezed his pecs. “I must keep growing.”

            When Wayne first met Connor 3 years ago, he had only weighed 180 pounds. But with Wayne’s support, Connor had grown consistently, turning into a paragon of masculinity, a beautiful muscle bull, whose life was devoted to the endless pursuit of more and more size.

            “Put the food down,” Connor commanded. “And strip down to your underwear.”

            Wayne looked around the neighborhood. “Right here, master, on the front lawn?”

            “Did I stutter, little man?”

            Wayne sat the groceries down and began taking off his plaid button-down shirt and brown chinos. When he was down to his tighty whities, Connor tossed him a laundry bag to put his clothes in.

            Wayne began to undo the oversized black leather collar he wore around his neck, a sign of submission, and of ownership.

            “No!” Conner boomed, wagging his meaty finger. “That stays on boy. Now take this disinfectant soap and go lather up in front of the garage.” Connor handed him a bottle of Hebiclens.

            Wayne did as he had been bid, while Connor watched from a distance of 15 feet, holding the garden hose in his meaty hands.

            When he was covered in the disinfectant, Connor hit him with a torrent of cold water.

            “Rub down good!” Connor yelled.

            Wayne rubbed his pale, thin body all over, until Connor told him he was satisfied and turned the hose off. Wayne stood, dripping, in the driveway waiting for permission to go inside.

            “I have a towel laid out in the foyer,” Connor said. “Go in, dry yourself, and then fix me a meal. It’s been two hours since my last feeding.”

            “Yes master. Right away master.”

            Wayne walked across the grass and when he was half way to the door Connor called out. “Speed it up tiny! I’m fucking starving!” Then the big man laughed as Wayne nearly tripped running inside.

            Connor went into the living room to watch TV. Wayne went directly to the kitchen, not bothering to go upstairs and put on new clothes. He couldn’t keep Connor waiting long, and besides his damp underwear would be dry in no time from the heat of the stove.

            Wayne already had brown rice prepared. He removed two chicken breasts from the fridge and a head of broccoli. He split the chicken breasts so they would could faster and seasoned them with Connor’s favorite Cajun spice mix. The broccoli, he steamed, and covered in a copious amount of melted cheese. Connor took all his vegetables with cheese, as much for the extra calories as for the taste.

            When he was finished cooking, and Connor’s immense meal was spread across two plates on the kitchen table, Wayne went into the living room. He found Connor shirtless with his thick arms spread across the back of the couch. His bare feet were up on the coffee table, and a lit cigar was hanging from the side of his mouth sending a halo of smoke up and around his head.

            “Your mid-morning meal is ready master.”

            “About time. I was just about to go in there.” Connor sat the cigar into an ash tray and rose from his seat. His arms were pushed out at 45-degree angles by his lats. Wayne watched him swagger and sway as he walked into the kitchen, wondering how much more muscle he could possibly squeeze on that frame and still be able to move at all. Connor had long ago lost the ability to scratch his own back. What was next? Would he lose the ability to wipe his own ass? The thought made Wayne’s cock spring to attention. Despite the fact that Wayne hadn’t been blessed with a large physique. He was blessed with an above average cock. Connor took notice.

            “Thinking about something sexy?” Connor asked, as his sat down to the table and picked up his fork, which looked comically small in his hand.

            “I’m thinking about you growing, master.”

            “Ah yes,” Connor said with a mouth full of chicken. “A thought that could make any cock hard.” He flexed his left bicep, squeezing it hard, making the peak rise higher than his deltoid. “23 Fucking inches and growing. How big are yours, tiny?”

            “13 inches master.”

            “Next year I’ll have mine twice that, 26 fucking inches. Would you like that?”

            “Very much so, master.”

            “Yeah, of course you would.” Connor reached out and grabbed Wayne by the waist band of his underwear and pulled him close. He spit in his calloused hand and began stroking Wayne’s cock, while he ate with the other hand.

            “You’re so lucky to be living with a muscle god,” Connor said. “Isn’t that right?”

            “Yes, master,” Wayne said, a tremble of pleasure in his voice.

            “You can’t get enough of these muscles, can you?” Connor asked, with a mouth full of rice. He was stroking faster now.

            “No, master. I can’t” An ecstasy was rising in him. Wayne was close to orgasming.

            “You want to come all over this hot body, don’t you? Watch your jizz drip down the deep crevice between my pecs? You want release?”

            “Yes, Master!” his balls churned, ready to explode.

            “Well you can’t.” Connor stopped suddenly. “Not while I’m eating you little perve.” He grinned. “But you will cum soon.”

            How cruel, to bring him to the edge like that, only to let him down. Wayne didn’t let his disappointment show, however. Cruel games were the prerogative of any god, muscle gods included.

            He watched in silence as Connor finished his meal, then took the dishes away and washed them. Connor sat at the table, leaning back in the chair, stroking his distended stomach. He let out a belch like the rumble of thunder.

            “I’ll be in the garage, lifting,” Connor said, finally. “There’s laundry for you to do, and make sure my mass gainer shake is ready in an hour. Also, don’t get dressed. I like you in your underwear. Seeing you without clothes reminds me how much of a superior specimen I am.” He laughed, cockily.

            “Yes master. Whatever pleases you.”

            Wayne listened to Connors guttural grunts and the sounds of metal plates clanking as he did the laundry. A sweet music. He had just gotten the clothes into the dryer when it was time to make Connor’s shake. He darted from the laundry room to the kitchen and began mixing the concoction: 2 frozen bananas, 3 cups of milk, a scoop of weigh protein, a scoop of ON Serious Mass, and a cup of ground oatmeal.

            When he turned around, Connor stood in the door frame, pumped and sweaty. He had clearly worked upper body. His chest, arms and shoulders looked twice their usual size with bluish veins visible through the skin. The hair on his chest was matted down and curly from the perspiration.

            Wayne handed him the blender and Connor chugged the thick liquid, his Adam’s apple bouncing quickly with each gulp. He didn’t stop to take a breath, until the entire shake was in him, clearly in a hurry to get even more nourishment to his ballooning physique.

            Connor let out a satisfied sigh as he handed the blender back to Wayne. “Nothing like a good pump and a full belly,” he said. “Am I wrong?”

            “You’re never wrong, master.” Wayne smiled.

            “You know what else is feels good,” Connor said. “Dominating a weaker man.”

            Wayne had only just put the blender in the sink when he felt his body being pulled away from the sink. Connor had lifted him from the ground and held him up by the waste. His feet dangled 2-feet from the ground.

            “I’m going to dominate you ‘til you jizz yourself,” Connor said. He carried Wayne to the living room as if his 135-lb bodyweight was nothing at all, and tossed him on the couch.”

            “Get up little man and punch me. These muscles need a massage.”

            Wayne wasn’t sure what to do. He looked up in shock. Hit him? He wasn’t expecting that.

            “Hit me!” Connor boomed.

            Wayne struck him in the chest.


            Wayne struck him in the stomach.

            “Harder, you fucking weakling!” Connor was tensing his whole body.

            Wayne punch him with all his strength in the stomach and recoiled, clutching his fist in pain.

            “Wow, is that the best you can do?” Connor said. “Here, let me show you how to hit.” He made a fist and drew it back.

            Wayne’s life flashed before his eyes as the huge fist came barreling toward him. He winced, but it stopped just shy of striking him. Connor was laughing.

            “Aww, don’t worry little guy,” He said in a baby voice. “I wouldn’t really hit. I might kill you and then who would take care of me?”

            Suddenly Connor grabbed Wayne’s neck with one hand, and grabbed his crotch with the other, then lifted Wayne off the ground. He lifted mostly from the crotch (which by now had grown hard), and used the neck to steady him. In a second Wayne was completely upside down. Connor had spun him in midair, and then let him fall on his side onto the couch.

            “Holy shit.” Wayne mumbled. That was a new move.

            Without wasting a second, Connor was on top of him, all 330 pounds of beefy muscle man were weighing him down, constricting him. Wayne’s cock grew harder and harder, pushing against Connor’s skin, poking him like a dagger.

            “How easy it would be to crush you right now,” Connor said, giving an evil grin. “like crushing a little bug. Isn’t that right?”

            Wayne could hardly breath. He forced out a “Yes, master.”

            “I can hardly hear you. Are you having trouble breathing, little man?

            Wayne nodded.

            Connor got up. “Let me give you some air. Sometimes I forget how much I weigh.”

            Wayne stood up.

            “Did I tell you to stand up?”

            “Sorry, master.” He sat back down.

            “Too late! You need punishing.”

            Connor grabbled Wayne and bought the little man to his feet then wrapped his burly arms around him in a bear hug. He liflted Wayne from the ground and began to squeeze. Feeling Connors muscles pressing into his body like that, feeling so helpless and at his complete mercy sent his cock to new heights of hardness. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t breathe. Wayne could feel Connor’s own rod bulging through his sweatpants and pressing into his ass cheeks.

            “Should I break you in two?”

            “No, please don’t master.”

            Connor released him from the bear hug, but immediately wrapped his harm around Wayne’s neck and put him in a head lock. He bought Wayne down to his knees and flexed his bicep. The peak dug into Wayne’s neck.

            “Well, should I snap your neck then?” Connor asked.

            “No master, but please don’t let go.”

            “Don’t let go? Ah, I see. You’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

            Wayne nodded. He had one hand on Connors thigh and another on the horseshoe of his tricep. He could feel the wet spot of precum spreading in his underwear and his cock begin to spasm. The head was sore, the shaft throbbing. Connor pressed his muscular body against wayne and flexed. Wayne felt the crushing might of Connor’s body and it was the final push his orgasm needed. He exploded in his underwear, filling them with torrent after torrent of warm sticky jizz.

            “I love it when my muscles make you cum,” Connor whispered into Wayne’s ear. “Now it’s my turn.”

            Wayne pulled his wet underwear down to his knees and leaned forward on the living room carpet. He had his ass up, presented, ready and waiting for penetration. Connor was on his knees as well. He pulled down his sweats and unleashed the thick monster he was packing. If Wayne was just above average, Connor’s 9-inch hose made average look diminutive.

            Connor spread Wayne’s cheeks and spit into his hole. He grabbed Wayne’s hair and pulled his head pack before plunging into his ass with all 9-inches of his hard cock. It was thick and stretched Wayne to the limits, as he plowed into him, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, faster and faster.

            Wayne’s body quaked with each forceful thrust. His eyes watered. He was riding that fine line between pleasure and pain. Then he felt Connor’s warm jizz fill him. The muscle man let out a loud moan as he came again and again inside Wayne. When he was finished, he pulled out, and Wayne slumped to the floor, exhausted, but in ecstasy, Connor’s warm spunk leaking from his ass.  

            “I like your tight ass little man,” Connor said. He was standing now, looking down at Wayne. He seemed like a giant.

            “And I like everything about you, master.”

            “It’s time to make your master grow.” Connor grabbed Wayne’s by the collar and raised him up. “Go get my roids. I’m ready for an injection.”

            Wayne did so. When he returned Connor was leaning of the edge of the couch. His huge glutes were on full display. Wayne got to work quickly preparing the dose and sterilizing the injection site. Then he plunged the needle into Connor’s ass.

            “Connor pulled his sweats up and turned around. “I’m going up to take a nap. I’ll be really hungry when I wake up so have a big dinner ready.”

            “Of course, master.”

            “Good boy.” Connor slapped him hard on the ass and squeezed.

            Wayne took the clothes out of the dryer, folded them, and then set about preparing Connor’s dinner. He would prepare a large t-bone steak, two twice backed potatoes, and some string beans with parmesan cheese. While Connor’s food was cooking, he ate his own modest dinner of tuna salad on rye.

            Just as he sat the food on the table, he heard Connor’s heavy footfalls coming down the stairs. Connor entered the kitchen with a case of bed hair, and yawned. He surveyed his meal, enough to feed two people, and nodded in satisfaction. He was finished eating in 10 minutes flat.

            “When you’re done washing the dishes you can join in me in the living room for some TV. You’ve earned an hour’s rest.”

            “Thank you master.”

            Wayne joined Connor on the couch for an episode of Law and Order SVU. He rested his head on Connors hairy chest the whole time. When the show was over Connor pushed his head aside.

            “Make me another shake, little man.”

            Wayne crossed his arms. He didn’t move.

            “Did you hear me?” Connor said, frowning. “I need my evening shake.”

            “Make it yourself,” Wayne said, glancing across the room at the clock on the wall. It was 9:00 pm.

            “Oh!” Connor exclaimed and stood. “Sorry, master. I hadn’t realized.”

            “That’s alright,” Wayne said. “You really got into it. I like that.”

            “I was good, master?” Connor said, “You enjoyed today?”

            “You were very good and I did enjoy it.”

            Wayne took the collar off of his neck and handed it to Connor. The big man put it on, adjusting it to fit his considerably larger neck. Wayne smiled, looking up at his muscle slave. Everything was back to normal now. Wayne loved his yearly treat, the day when Connor got to play master and he got to play slave for 12 hours. The day when he got to be at the mercy of Connor’s muscles and on the receiving end of his cock. It served as a release for Connor as well, allowing the big guy to play the alpha and live out any pent-up fantasies he might have.

            Once a year was often enough, however. It made the experience of the reversal more enjoyable and gave them both something to look forward too. Also, he knew if he did it too often, Connor might get too used to it and that was a no no. Wayne was master here. It was his house, his money that Connor relied on to grow, and his rules.

            “Tomorrow, I’ll expect my breakfast at 9:15 am sharp, understood?” Wayne said.

            “Yes master.”

            “Lift me.” Wayne commanded.

            Connor took him in his arms, like a husband would lift his bride.

            “Now take me to the bathroom and wash me.”

            “Yes master.”

            “And later, a foot rub, before bed.”

            “Of course, master.”

            Connor gave the best foot rubs. Such strong hands, after all. Wayne rode up the stairs in his slave’s arms, thinking about how big he’d be by the time of next year’s treat day. 400 lbs perhaps. And he knew just how Connor was going to get there. He had heard about a knew supplement he wanted to try. His cousin Scott called it Superpump. He said it worked like magic.                   

  • Like 7

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Which was your favorite?

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Damn, bro.  You need to post more stories!

So far I've got through the first two...  I'm...uh..."saving" the other stories for later ;)

They were both great.  I LOVED "Sex".  Super hot scenario for me, a small man and hot woman worshiping a giant muscular alphamale.  Loved the sex scene, how Jaime pounding Seamus basically caused him to pound Carmen.  It's like the alpha man was fucking two people at once with his size and power.   

  • Like 1

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
7 hours ago, dredlifter said:

Damn, bro.  You need to post more stories!

So far I've got through the first two...  I'm...uh..."saving" the other stories for later ;)

They were both great.  I LOVED "Sex".  Super hot scenario for me, a small man and hot woman worshiping a giant muscular alphamale.  Loved the sex scene, how Jaime pounding Seamus basically caused him to pound Carmen.  It's like the alpha man was fucking two people at once with his size and power.   

Thank you dredlifter. "Sex" was very enjoyable to write. Glad you liked it. I'm trying to write more.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

All were great stories, so creative.  Theft was horrifying!  And I mean that in a good way.  Would make an excellent Halloween tale.

I really like strength too.  So fun to see two huge, super strong, super muscular guys play around and have fun. 

  • Like 1

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

My man. What a fanatstic set of stories.

All of them were good on their own but my favorite are probably teh first two and domination on the third.

The story with teh bug guys doing feats of strenght was fantastic. I would love to read a follow up of that one

  • Like 1

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.