Jump to content

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10


Guest

Recommended Posts

Previous chapters:

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad

"The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match

"The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match

"The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match

"The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped

"The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1
"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1

 

Precis:

Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant.  

There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's  strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection.

Known as Project Herculaneum,  the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it.  

The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military.

Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality.

Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant.  Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship.

Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential.

 

 

 

Chapter 9:

Good for Morale, Continued

 

Oral was hardly uncommon in the compound. In fact, Moster encouraged it. And Zaftig was fascinated by the men’s hunger for it, though he never took part.

 

Not long after starting a P21 protocol, each man had developed insatiable an insatiable need to suck and be sucked. Cocksucking was therefore more than just a healthy release for the men: it was now mandatory. And though none of them would acknowledge themselves to be 100% gay, part of their acceptance into the program relied on each man’s private original tendencies towards pansexuality, boosted as they were by the behavioral blockers of P21.

 

Over the years, each of the bodybuilders in Project Herculaneum had at one time or another sucked every other bodybuilder’s cock to full release many dozens of times. Often it happened in the showers after training, but sometimes it was after meals, as well. And as all were superlatively endowed with astonishing penises of uncommon weight, size, length, beauty and girth, no one was disappointed.

 

Even Abdul Karim took part, much to the surprise of everyone.  Though he never talked about it, even appearing bored, the more observant men noted a gleam in his eye each time he bent to service Gunst.

 

Oral was against the rules on rest days. By the time training days came around again, the musclemen were already laughing, slapping each other on the backs during meals, and smacking their lips in anticipation.

 

Fucking was another matter. All the men had been vaccinated against the virulent STDs that had long ravaged the world, and were now immune to any infection, their antibodies remorselessly attacking any invader.

 

Butt fucking was an art. The soldiers were all equipped with powerful machines, all endowed with superb glutes, and all highly in touch with the pure waves of pleasure broadcast by their sensitive prostates.

 

 

 

Good muscle butt fucking was serious stuff. As all the men were huge, heavy, and powerfully strong, it was like heavy lifting crossed with pure animal pleasure: one bull fucking another bull. Vigorously.

 

Group fucks of spirited, high-energy muscle daisy chains were a once-a-month event, seriously organized and generally preserved on video for the records. Wearing full black leather masks in order to remain as anonymous as possible, and with deep black satin robes covering their individually distinctive bodies, the men gathered in the dimmed mess hall and connected their dicks to the next asshole in a line-up deliberately arranged by Moster. Muscle worship was not part of the evening. The point was prostate manipulation and bonding.

 

Still, private fucking was not discouraged. A few of the men had distinct preferences for one another as fuck buddy, even as the cocksucking was group-wide and free-for-all.

 

Of course, Schumacher had been fucking them all for years – except for Karim, of course. Apart from the daisy-chain sessions, no one dared to even approach Killer Karim from the rear - if he valued his teeth, that is.

 

But so far, as far as he knew, no one man in particular had privately fucked Joe Tiffany – apart from the scheduled group daisy-chain fucks, where Moster was careful to make sure that the connections varied from session to session.

 

Schumacher had fucked him just once in a group session, although as always as always he was masked and gowned. He could see through Tiffany’s mask that his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure, and Schumacher wasn’t sure Tiffany knew who he was. He knew it was Joe Tiffany’s muscular rear he was fucking, however, sliding up and down his supercharged big cock. That butt was pure, beautiful gold, a magically shaped combination of soft skin and raw, ripped power that was mind-boggling in its balance and tireless in its energy. Tiffany had taken charge of the fucking, as he gave it to the taller muscleman in the chain ahead of him, powerfully blasting forward into the glutes ahead of him, and, in perfect timing, also pumping his animal butt up and down on Schumacher’s cock with furiously blind energy.

 

For his part, Tiffany knew full well whose cock had impaled his perfect butt that night. He didn’t share this information. From that night, he had a plan. Another plan, that is.

 

In reality, all of the men were deeply aware of whose butts they were servicing, and who was manfully plugging his own from behind. The men had spent too many hours together in the rec room, on the workout floor, in classes and in the showers, not to be able to instantly recognize and distinguish each of his buddies. The wearing of the robes was nothing but a farce, but still they conceded, secretly further aroused by the spectacle of the volumes of black fabric draped with alluring mystery over each man’s rippling physique.

 

Still, from that night on, Joe Tiffany knew that Herman Schumacher was just the man to regularly plow his supple, needy, bodybuilder-cupcakes behind. All he had to do was train him just a little bit over the following few months to ensure that he was captive, obedient, and would always be on call whenever Tiffany was of a mind to be mindlessly fucked.

 

In the mean time, at night in his quarters his oversized dildo was getting the workout he bought it to do during one of his rare trips to town. He would energetically shove it deep into his butthole, rear his head back, close his eyes, and dream of Schumacher’s likely powerful thrusts.

 

And, as Moster always said to Dr. Zaftig, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the ritual behind the group fucks, “They need more sex than ordinary men. A lot more sex. Their metabolisms demand it. Besides – “

 

And Zaftig would say with him, in unison, “It’s good for morale.”

 

 

 

Waring was screaming in Gunst’s face.

 

tumblr_neoytuLmQY1tagvggo1_1280.jpg

Steve Waring

 

 

“Come on, asshole! What’s the matter, pansy ass? Can’t you do it? You’ve only done 12 so far, butthead. What’s the problem, 200 pounds too heavy for you to curl, baby boy?”

 

Gunst’s face was screwed into a mask of lip-curling, teeth-crunching pain as he vainly tried to complete the 13th rep. His biceps were exploding. The veins in his neck stood out like steel cables. His face bloomed deep crimson. He screamed. He couldn’t do it. He strained and squeezed and tried again, and his arms froze mid-rep, unmoving, the biceps bulging with 23 inches of shattering power.

 

Suddenly he threw the weight to the floor, where it crashed resoundingly, echoing throughout the compound. Waring jumped back a little to avoid getting hit by the bar.

 

The other men never stopped work, nor did they look up. Moster strode over to them.

 

“What’s the problem here, Private Gunst?”

 

“I – I couldn’t do it, sir,” said Gunst, backing away and mopping his face with his huge hand. Ashamed, he lowered his head. Fountains of his sweat splashed onto the floor.

 

Moster turned to Waring. “What set was he on?”

 

“Sir, he had completed five sets of 15 reps each, sir.”

 

“Successfully?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Gunst glanced nervously down at Sergeant Moster’s twitching palm.  Moster hadn’t punished anyone yet tonight for slacking, and he knew it was about time he’d want to show his authority over the men.

 

He needn’t have worried. Moster smiled kindly.

 

“That’s actually pretty damn good, Private Gunst,” said Sergeant Moster. “Waring, take care of this man, and then let’s see him try again.”

 

“Yes, sir,” said Waring. The young bodybuilder quickly got to his knees, lifted Gunst’s pulsing cock out of his barely restraining jockstrap, brought it tenderly up to his lips, and began to suck it deeply. Gunst closed his eyes and reared his head back thankfully. Immediately his cock was at full erection, throbbing and pulsing in Waring’s mouth.

 

On white cap nights, cocksucking was permitted on the workout floor only if approved by Moster.

 

“Use your lips, Private,” directed Moster, “the way we’ve discussed. You know the way Private Gunst likes it.”

 

Waring nodded eagerly and mouthed the young man’s giant throbbing organ.

 

“Pump your hips, Gunst.” Gunst began manfully plowing Waring’s good-looking, All-American face. “Harder.”

 

Gunst pumped harder, and the satisfying sucking sounds grew louder, adding to the din. Waring thoroughly licked the cock up and down its full length, and rubbed it against the two-day old beard stubble of his cheeks. “Scratchy,” moaned Gunst with pleasure, his eyes closed. He plunged in again.

 

Tiffany nudged his darkly handsome training partner Private Lang, who was just finishing a set of pull-downs. “Check ‘em out,” he murmured, winking and pointing. Lang turned and smiled broadly at the dreamily cocksucking Waring.

 

“Waring always was a good cocksucker,” he said, just a shade too loudly.

 

“You have a problem, Private Lang?” Moster’s voice boomed through the room. Tiffany ducked his head towards the pull down machine.

 

Lang went white. “No, sir,” he stammered.

 

“I think you do. Get over here.”

 

Here it comes, chuckled Gunst to himself, watching the intimidated Lang stumble forward meekly as Waring, below, hungrily sucked his throbbing big cock.

 

“Go get your punishment, man,” whispered a grinning, sweating Corporal Lefevre, punching the shame-faced Lang on the shoulder as he passed.

 

Alvarez watched expressionlessly. “Take it like a man,” he murmured Alvarez as Lang passed him. He flashed a hard look at Tiffany. He knew what he was doing, getting Lang on the hot seat.  He’d pay. Later.

 

The hot seat. Indeed.

 

5’-11”, 280-pound Lang, streamlined with ripped, striated muscle and dripping with sweat, approached Moster and stood at rigid attention before him. He saluted.

 

Sighing, acting as though he were resigned to the inevitable task of discipline before him, the giant Sergeant Moster sat heavily on one of the benches. By now the men were all looking away in a mix of nervousness, embarrassment, eagerness and excitement.

 

Lang stood motionless, staring straight ahead in perfect attention, dreading the humiliation about to befall him.

 

“Was something funny, Lang?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“You don’t find Private Waring funny?” Lang glanced nervously at Waring, who greedily sucked cock.

 

“No, sir.”

 

“What are the rules, Private?”

 

“We are respectful of the need for regular oral stimulation, sir.”

 

“And why are we?”

 

“It’s good for morale, sir.”

 

“Was your comment good for morale, Lang?”

 

Lang was ashamed. “No, sir.”

 

“No. Let’s get to it, Private.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Lang relaxed his attention, gulped, and quickly slipped out of his sopping t-shirt. He squeezed large droplets of sweat out on the marley surface of the gym floor and tossed it resignedly in the growing puddle. Standing before Moster a little pathetically, he was a muscle giant about to be chastised by an even larger muscle giant.

 

Silently, submissively, he bent over Sergeant Moster’s powerful quads and lay prone on his lap. Moster, his fingers twitching, raised his palm. He paused a moment.

 

“How long has it been, Private?”

 

“Since when, sir?” Through Moster’s sweatsuit Lang could feel the man’s enormous penis, relaxed across the top of the sergeant’s right thigh, press against his abs.

 

“Since I had to discipline you in front of the men, Private?”

 

“About two months, sir.”

 

Moster glanced down appraisingly at the beautiful, trembling glutes that lay gleaming over his knee. He paused, his hand held aloft, inspecting with internal approval. “You were training legs tonight, weren’t you, Private?” he asked.

 

The suspense was killing Lang. “Yes, sir, I was, sir.”

 

“Squatting deep?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Keeping good form?”

 

“I think so, sir.”

 

“Good, Private. This will supplement your workout tonight. Heat helps muscles grow.”

 

With calloused, powerful palms, his thick fingers spread wide for maximum sting, Sergeant Moster sharply spanked the muscleman’s rocky glutes with carefully applied, deeply resonant butt smacks. Lang twisted and turned on his lap. After a few sharp spanks he cried out.

 

“Sir, it stings, sir!” Tears spouted from his eyes.

 

“Goddamn right it stings.” Moster turned to Gunst, watching from a few feet away with wide eyes, his large cock sliding deeply in and out of Waring’s mouth.

 

“Fuck face, Private,” he commanded.

 

“Yes sir!” shouted Gunst. He placed his hands on the back of Waring’s head and pumped his hips rhythmically as Waring, his mouth full of cock, moaned with deep satisfaction.

 

The rest of the squad was watching. Moster could see all were now getting visibly excited. Their jocks were starting to bulge fearsomely, and two or three massive penis heads had popped out of their restraining pouches.

 

“Get back to work!” Moster commanded, and without hesitation, the men turned back to their weights and began to lift again with renewed zeal.

 

Gunst’s huge body shuddered, and a river of thick cum began spurting out of Waring’s mouth and down his chin.

 

“UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!” he roared. Waring was moaning deeply as the desperately swallowed the pint of semen pouring down his throat.

 

By the time he was finished shooting his load, Moster was steadily applying the 25th blow to Lang’s shiny red, twitching musclebutt. Moster issued his next order.

 

“See that you finish that set properly, Gunst, or you’re next on the hot seat.”

 

“Yes, sir!” he shouted, stuffing his dripping, still hard cock back into his stained jock as best he could as Waring, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, scrambled to his feet. “Spot me,” Gunst said to Waring, and, grabbing the weight, he peeled off 15 perfect-form, agonizingly correct curls. Waring, doing his best to ignore both his own achingly enlarged cock and the yet looming bulge in Gunst’s jockstrap, and with the splotches of cum still dripping down his face, spotted him with as much concentration as he could muster.

 

“1! 2! 3!” Waring counted the reps, filled with admiration as Gunst’s mountainous biceps exploded with power. As Waring shouted the count, Moster applied another heavy smack for each rep to the quivering, deeply scarlet, muscular bottom of Private Lang, who, over his knees, groaned deeply with a blend of humiliation, excitement and pain.

 

As he spanked, Moster called out loudly to the men.

 

“Attention! Men!”

 

“7! 8! 9! 10!”

 

Spank!

 

The man snapped into attention from wherever they stood around the workout floor.

 

“Tonight you will be meeting our newest recruit in Project Herculaneum.”

 

Spank! Spank!

 

“From this evening on, we will now be known as The Twenty.”

 

Spank! Spank! Spank!

 

The men stood at rigid attention. “Yes, sir!” they shouted.

 

“And remember, men,” said Moster, grinning down at handsome Private Lang stretched over his knees, who had tears in his eyes and whose face was almost – but not quite – as beet red as the handprints on his perfect butt, “being spanked by me is a badge of honor. Never be ashamed when I call you forward to the hot seat have your butts whipped. I do not pay such honorific attentions to anyone outside the squad.”

 

Spank! Spank!

 

“18! 19! 20! 21!”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

Spank! Spank!

 

Tiffany grinned. He had often spotted the quiet, shy, legendary young muscle giant Casey Rockland in the mess, and heard all about his fearsome physique. He was looking forward to meeting him. He paid no attention to the unwavering, hostile gaze of Corporal Alvarez.

 

Corporal Schumacher strode over to him. He glanced over at Alvarez threateningly, who immediately shifted his gaze and went back to work.

 

“You better watch it. You don’t want to piss off that guy,” he muttered to Tiffany.

 

“Who the fuck cares?” shrugged Tiffany. Thirty feet across the room, Moster continued to apply his stern, masterful spanking to Lang’s squirming, rock-hard musclebutt.  Lang’s face was now contorted in an ongoing blissful combination of pain and pleasure, his mouth forming a smiling O…..

 

“…oooooooooo….”

 

Alvarez was watching closely from the corner. Even at more than 40 feet, Tiffany could see the Alvarez’s jock was now poling straight out from his body, strained to the bursting point.

 

“I can’t always cover your ass when you misbehave. These men are my buddies. You’re still new here.”

 

Tiffany smiled cockily. His fresh young musculature glowed with youth and health. He knew that since the last daisy chain that his sunny handsomeness and bad boy intentions had become irresistible to the old horndog Schumacher. It was all going beautifully.

 

“I can take care of myself,” he said. He gestured with his thumb to the blank-faced, completely erect Alvarez, who was by now busy with his next set of deep squats. “Besides, he looks like he doesn’t mind.”

 

The mute Private Meyer was now gleefully bent over before Alvarez, holding his ankles and laughing silently, dancing and twitching that magical butt of his just a few feet in front of the man’s protruding jockstrap. Alvarez had to grin. Then he turned back to the squat bar.

 

“See?”

 

Schumacher grunted.

 

“Yeah, I know you can take care of yourself.” Schumacher moved in close and breathed into Tiffany’s face. “ I want to see you later on.”

 

“You do, hunh?”

 

“Yeah, I do, hunh. After the detail meets Casey Rockland, you come to my quarters. Tonight. That’s an order.”

 

“Finish up, men!” commanded Moster, still spanking the twitching Lang’s bright-red glutes. Spank! “Ouch!” Lang cried.

 

“You’re not my CO.”  Tiffany lifted a bar off a squat rack and began doing slow military presses. He smiled indifferently at Schumacher and said no more. Schumacher grunted angrily and moved to the cable rack, where he finished off his chest workout with a final set of intense cable flyes. He now had Corporal Herman Schumacher wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it. He wrapped up his set of presses, now purposefully ignoring him, and grabbed his towel. He wiped himself off and smiled beatifically across at Moster.

Moster, never pausing in his discipline of Lang, was amused. He winked at Tiffany.

He knew he’d get the Private’s butt to himself – in time – but he generously allowed that Schumacher would get to it first. And that was part of his plan.

 

Casey Rockland was the other part.

The workout was finally over.  “To the showers, men,” Moster called out.

 

The men collected their workout bags and empty water jugs, and filed eagerly off the floor, clambering over one another like puppies, heading towards their no-holds barred shower room games.  Even the normally disgruntled Karim had a special light in his eyes. He was looking forward to Gunst’s piss.

As they raced out, Moster looked down at Lang, still stretched pitiably over his knee. “How many was that, Private?” he asked calmly.

 

“59, sir.”

“Good. I assume you enjoyed it?”

“Yes, sir,” he said with meek truthfulness. “Actually, I loved it.”

“Then here’s one more for good luck.” He raised his black hand and applied the last, 60th searing red-hot butt smack.

WHACK!

Ow! That was good, sir!” Lang scrambled to his feet, saluted, and tenderly rubbing the scarlet handprints on his delectable bodybuilder butt. “May I join the others now?”

“Off with you.”

“Thank you, sir!” Lang scooped up his discarded clothes and plastic bottle with one hand, flinging his gear over his broad shoulders, standing still for a moment pouring what was left of the cool water over his shoulder onto his stinging glutes.  

He grinned at Moster.  "Thank you again, sir, for the discipline.  My butt needed it."

Moster waved him off.

Then, kneading his iron-hard, hand-print reddened butt cheeks with the fingers of both hands, the handsome private scampered happily, if somewhat bow-leggedly, away to join his sweaty, horny muscle buddies in the locker room.

 

 

 

Chapter 10:

The Showers

 

Inside, they had already slipped out of their drenched t-shirts, boots and jockstraps, slipped on striped flipflops, and had headed quickly to the showers, and down to extreme business.

Lang was eager to rejoin the men. After all, there was just enough time for one more round of group cocksucking, butt fucking, and stress-reducing water sports before they all had to gather in the lab upstairs to meet the new recruit.

Naked in the steamy group shower, he found his way to his muscle buddy Alvarez. He fell to his knees as Alvarez turned, strode forward to meet him, flexed his mammoth biceps, and shoved his meaty erect cock into Lang’s gratefully receiving mouth. Behind Lang, Private Gunst thoughtfully soothed his stinging, reddened glutes with a powerful jet stream coating of clear, clean piss. His mouth full of cock, Lang nodded gratefully up at Gunst, who returned his nod with a “Hey, it’s okay.” Lang arched his butt to receive the coating of piss all the better.

He glanced over at Schumacher, who was now violently plowing Tiffany’s wide-open mouth with his own swollen firehose man meat. Schumacher hadn’t said a word. He had walked directly up to Tiffany, who swiftly went to his knees and carefully guided his lips over the shaft of the Corporal’s 11-inch penis. Schumacher was facefucking him as mercilessly as he could manage, but the young Private seemed serenely in control. As usual, he never gagged.

Which made Corporal Herman Schumacher plow harder and deeper.

Which prompted a satisfied smile on Tiffany’s calm, appreciative lips as he sucked with cool detachment the muscle daddy Schumacher’s violently throat-pounding large cock.

After Gunst finished painting Lang’s glutes with thoughtfully applied streams of hot piss, he turned to Waring, fondled the handsome young muscleman’s leathery testicles, got down on his knees and allowed him to glide his own achingly engorged member down his eager throat.

“MMMMmmmmm, it’s good!” he moaned, satisfied. “Even big boys like to suck cock,” he winked up at Waring. He smacked his lips. “If it’s big enough.”

“Is mine big enough?” asked Waring as he rubbed his scalp in the streaming hot shower.

“Yup,” answered Gunst, dipping in for another full-throated suck.  “Sure is.”

All the other musclemen were similarly at work, soaping up, sucking cock, washing armpits, lathering crotches, laughing, shouting, grunting, flexing their muscles, getting their oversized cocks sucked, or with their faces buried deeply in their buddies’ spectacular glutes.

In the center of the shower, Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang were going through “Pose and Approve.” Alvarez was gliding through his finest posing routine, while below him and kneeling on the tile floor Lang licked and sucked his huge, stiff cock with hungry appreciation.

“Front double bi’s,” said Alvarez. “Pow.”

Meyer was dead center in the large shower room, standing on one hand on the tile floor, holding his powerful body aloft, his legs spread wide, one fist supporting his full bodyweight. He arched his butt high and smiled happily as, through the steam and roar of the water, one after another of his training buddies bent over and applied luscious, deep licks into his succulent butthole. He grinned, pumping his stiff cock with his free hand as they licked, kissed, and smacked his firm buttcheeks.

Jin and Washington were now each chewing ferociously on Bogarde’s perfect, brown nipples. He roared with pleasure, and pumped himself into a mighty front lat spread. Straps of pec muscle bloomed powerfully. He turned from side to side, proudly thrusting forward each pec. His buddies chewed, licked and bit. Meanwhile, the handsome Blankenship, who had a preference for big black cock, was fiercely lathering up Washington’s enormous pole. He covered it waves of soapsuds, pumping it up and down as it rose to full girth. He glanced up at Washington, now biting Bogarde’s nipples. “Yeah, you got one big black motherfucker muscle cock!” he shouted.

“You like big black cock?” roared Washington, waggling it in Blankenship’s face.

“Love it!” he shouted, and washing the soap off, took it all in his mouth.

“Watch him suck my cock!” Washington whooped. Obatu, soaping his armpits, laughed. He strode over to the group. “Room for another brother?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, shoved his meat into Blankenship’s face. Blankenship smiled rapturously, and as Obatu continued to soap up, he took his cock into his mouth as well.

“Most muscular,” said Obatu. “Pow. Check out dis crab.” Black veins exploded. His fists pumped together. He pushed his hips forward.  His cock surged straight ahead.

The two black cocks plunged in and out of Blankenship’s mouth, his tongue tracing over their shiny thick veins. The enormous Washington, the biggest man of the group of five, put his arms around Bogarde’s and Obatu’s shoulders, while on the tile beneath them Blankenship moved from cock to swaying cock, from Washington to Bogarde to Jin to Obatu and back to Washington again.  Surrounded by the bodybuilders’ cocks, Blankenship sucked each erect penis deeply. He gazed at the network of veins that criss-crossed the hip muscles of each of his buddies. Their huge cocks were like jewels set in the finest of settings: lean, fat-free muscles. When he got to the handsome Asian Private Jin, he marveled once again about how a Chink could have such a huge dick. He sucked it lovingly as the other men stood closely above him, their cocks looming in his face, dripping with water and pre-cum, awaiting their turn. When he finished with Jin, he moved on to Bogarde, whose nipples were being avidly chewed with care above him by Jin and Washington. Bogarde’s cock was, of course, in great need of immediate service. No problem. 

It was, after all, a world of huge, looming bodybuilder cocks.

And Blankenship’s favorite sport – after bodybuilding – was cocksucking

Next to him knelt the dimwit Hension, his handsome face now buried deeply into the posing Corporal Alvarez’s glutes.

Lang was now on his feet and posing with him, as the dark Arab Corporal Karim, behind him, licked and kissed his mighty ass as well. He caught Hension’s eyes, and, in unison, the two men buried their faces into the posing partners’ glutes.

“Hey, careful, there,” said Lang. His butt still stung, and Moster’s handprints were still glowing bright red on his taut asscheeks.

“Sorry, man,” said Karim. He gently licked the red hand welts, and could taste Gunst’s piss. He knew the man’s special sweet taste. Gunst had often pissed deeply into his mouth.

 

Chad and LeFevre, soaping up themselves, moved over to Hension, whose beautiful face was deeply buried in Alvarez’s butt.  “Hey, McIntyre,” called Chad, “get over here and take over for Hension!”

“Don’t bother me,” said Hension.

“Sure thing,” answered McIntyre, licking Meyer’s butthole. “Be there in a sec!”

“What are you doing, guys?” asked Hension plaintively as Chad and LeFevre lifted him bodily from Alvarez’s glutes, carrying him into a corner of the shower. Alvarez stopped posing for a minute and looked back at them.

“Hey, where you taking him?” he asked. Lang looked up.

“To the rescue,” said McIntyre, now on his knees and pressing his face into Alvarez’s butt.

“Oh, okay.” Alvarez turned back to Lang and continued posing. Karim had never stopped licking Lang’s ass.

Chad and LeFevre were now sharing Hension’s pretty tool. “Figure you have it coming,” said LeFevre,” licking away the last remnants of the chili powder.

“You guys,” said Hension, and began to wash his hair as the men cleaned his cock with their tongues and lips.

Moster leaned in at the shower door. “Good work tonight, men.” He turned and headed toward the locker room door.

“Thank you, sir!” the men shouted after him. Moster called back to them as he left the locker room.

“No fucking tonight. No time.”

“Shit!” Moans of general disappointment.

“Sorry. Expect you all upstairs in the lab in 10 minutes.”

“Yes, sir!” Once again, in unison.

On the workout floor, alone and silent as always, the meek Dr. Irving slipped back into the room and to shut down the lights for the night. From the locker room, he could hear the splashing of the showers and the groans, moans, roars, whoops and shouts of the satisfied men as they each let loose volleys of thick, spurting cum high into the steaming air, arcing and splashing onto each other’s superbly muscled bodies. Thick cascades of semen plopped onto the tile and began flowing slowly past the men’s browned feet towards the shower’s drains.

 

Irving walked over to the garbage pail. He glanced inside. Yep. There they were. He could see them in the half-light. He reached in amidst the wet rags of paper and extracted 18 empty aluminum capsule wrappers. Moster had probably ordered the enhancements from Zaftig particularly for tonight’s workout.

He knew that by now each bodybuilder probably had already cum three or four times. By 2150 hours, they would all, to a man, be drained.

Except, of course, for Sergeant Moster.

He picked up the receiver of the staff phone on the wall, and pushed a button. “Facilities,” he requested.  In the distance now, the men were all roaring as one. No doubt they were all spurting in unison by now. Pints and quarts of cum.

“Facilities? Yeah. Irving. Right. Better put the plumber on notice. The shower drains in the main workout locker room will be clogged again tonight. They need to be cleared by 1800 hours tomorrow.” He hung up without bothering to listen to the response, turned, and walked out of the room.

 

In the showers, the roaring was dying down to satisfied explosions of breath and more laughs, whoops and hollers. The water was turned off, and locker doors began to open. The room grew quiet as the men dressed, all thoughtful now. All thinking about the new recruit they were about to meet.

Casey Rockland.

In the showers, thick rivulets of cum dripped from the ceiling, walls, spigots and faucet handles, clogging the drains.  It cost Zaftig thousands each month to simply to maintain the system’s burgeoning septic tanks.

“It’s just one more thing I didn’t really plan for,” he would sigh to Moster, who would nod, straight-faced.

"It's always something," Moster would reply, absently scratching his bulge.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Joey, I just want to thank you for the great content you have been posting on your blog lately....especially the videos you posted on November 3rd ("More Hot Muscle Videos").  You seem to have created those yourself and it must have taken you a lot of time.  Much appreciated!

 

For those of you who haven't visited Joey's site, the url is www.musclepuppies.com  It's well worth a look....you won't be sorry!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Thanks so much for the generous note! I much appreciate it - I tend to be busy sometimes, sometimes not - and as an ex-bb myself (okay, long lapsed - lived in the gym 1976 - 2001, and since then just sporadic - an HIV era guy still alive!) who loves muscles and gets hard to bodybuilder images - I love creating fantasy for others.

 

Question - I'll post this elsewhere as well - I am a collector of HSMusclboy's Matt images.  I have maybe 100 of them - his Yahoo group long gone, and the rumor that he sadly passed on many years ago.  If anyone has any Matt muscle drawings, please share!

 

Thanks.....

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Nice to hear from you, Joey!  I have hundreds of Matt/HSmusclboy images and would love to share them.  How best to do that?  Should I create a zip file and upload it somewhere, then post the link here?  Or would you like me to send them to you directly?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Calhoun, how kind! a zip file would be awesome....Where can you upload them? Drop box?

 

I am trying to create a Matt - Billy - Timmy animation, and additional files would be thoughtful!  Anything I can do for you in exchange? i have thousands of muscle images - ....

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 4 weeks later...
  • 3 months later...
  • 3 months later...

Join the conversation

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

Guest
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.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines, Terms of Use, & Privacy Policy.
We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..