He’d been staring at himself in the mirror for almost half an hour now, flexing and posing to his favorite person. His brown eyes couldn’t even meet his own reflected gaze. They roamed instead across his perfect musculature.
Tight, trimmed waist. Chiseled, rock hard abs. Cut and defined pecs with a beautiful set of nipples. All framed by thick, powerful arms that bulged and flexed for attention. How could one resist this view after all?
He could barely function properly, even in gym. The cocky jock bro couldn’t walk two steps past his reflection without stopping whatever he was doing. Whether it be the way the sun hit his muscles just so, or the way his clothes hugged his body tight, his own image dominated his thoughts and attention.
Tonight he was heading back to work, a camera crew waiting to film his next scene; a rough, brutal fucking he’d never forget. Thinking about watching that footage on repeat, the sight of his prefect, beautiful body reduced to being someone else’s cock sleeve…it was enough to send shivers through his body in excitement.
My face perks up as I hear the door clatter open. I jump down from the couch onto all fours as I plod my way over to the door. The door opens to reveal my master, somewhat disheveled after his long day at work. I’m on my knees, hands curled forward in front of my chest. He smiles at me, happy to see me here waiting for him as he ordered. I would do anything to help him destress from his awful job.
He tells me to wait in the training room as he goes to wash up and get ready. I excitedly crawl over to the training room, filled with gym equipment and leather straps. I do my stretches as I gaze at myself in the mirror. Strong, sculpted chest with chiseled arms, with a well shaped abdomen leading down to well built thighs. It’s been a year since I started training under master, and he’s done a wonderful job making me into the muscular stud I am today.
“Hmph. You like looking at yourself, you dirty pup?” I jump a little when I hear my master who silently entered the room with me. He’s got a dark look on his face, meaning he’s got some aggression he wants to take it today.
Immediately we get started with push ups. Fifty to be exact. My master counts briskly, forcing me to keep apace with him. He gives me ten seconds before we go into crunches. Again, long yet fast paced. Fifty crunches in a little under fifty seconds.
I’m breathing hard through the mask, feeling the warmth of my own breath against my face. Next he has me do bench presses. This time though, he’s stacked the weights more than I’m usually lifting. It takes a great deal of effort, but I finally get it off the wrack and bring the bar down just above my pecs. I breathe out to push up but am immediately stopped.
“I didn’t say you could lift.” I whine a little but get an angry look as I bite my tongue. “Hold, pup.” The seconds tick by as my arms strain under the intense weight. The longer I hold, the hotter my limbs burn and the harder my lungs work. Almost ten seconds go by when master finally gives me permission to push. I groan deeply as my arms lift the weight. My dense pecs bulge marvelously from the pressure, and my arm muscles flex gloriously. I finally make it all the way up and I almost cry out in triumph.
“One.” My gut sinks as my master counts but a single rep for that whole ordeal. He tells me I’m not nearly finished and orders me to continue. My arms slowly bring the bar back down and forces me to hold for another ten seconds before lifting again. “Two.”
This continues for five more reps, and by the sixth, my arms are crying out in weakness. My whole body is soaked in my sweat, the punishing work out threatening to break my body. Master sees my weakness and helps me set the weight back onto the rack.
I lay there limp on the bench, gasping for air. My arms and my torso feel pumped, but weak, barely able to lift myself. Master orders me to stand, and I oblige. I show off my muscles as I flex for master, pushing my pecs together to show off cleavage. I love this part, where he looks over his training of me and sees how well I’m doing. He at least seems satisfied, which I smile widely.
We do more workouts for about an hour, my hard body on full display as the sweat runs down my skin and drenches my leather gear. “Good boy…” master pats me on the head, my exhausted body just barely standing. “You deserve a treat.” He pulls a pair of white briefs from his pocket, somewhat dirty and damp besides. My eyes light up. It’s the pair of briefs master wore today!
He stuffs it into my mask, trapping it against my nose. The deep, powerful smell of masters musk, sweat and filth overwhelms my senses. I get hard quickly, breathing in my masters essence as reward for my hard work.
He pulls my chin up to make me look at him. I dopily smile as I stare at my wonderful master. “You’re a filthy puppy, but you also are growing nicely. Come. I’m gonna breed you deep with my seed.” He always takes such good care of me. I wag my ass in excitement and content.
I shuddered at the sight of him. Was it fear? Maybe partly. I think it was also in excitement. My semi was already pushing against the fabric of the singlet I was wearing.
Big, bulging…intimidating yet enticing. My heart raced a million miles an hour just staring up at this monster ready to wrestle. I’m not a small dude, by any means. I qualify in the heavy weights, at six feet four inches tall and two hundred fifty pounds; all lean muscle. But this guy? Dwarves me in a way no man ever had before and since. So wide and tall I couldn’t believe he was real when I first saw him.
But there he was. His singlet so tight against his massive bulk that nothing is left to the imagination. My college singlet hugged against my powerful frame but his can’t even cover his torso correctly.
We were in a ring surrounded by cameras. I was promised a decent paycheck to play wrestle against of their stars. I had heard of these kind of wrestle fetish porn vids before so I figured it would be kinda fun.
But this monster was looking for someone to break.
The match itself seemed to drag forever. He started light, but kept pushing me, knocking me down. He was picking me up like a rag doll and pulling my limbs in painful directions. I feel like he could easily tear me apart, but knew exactly how far to push me before I broke. Nothing I did seemed to faze him, and simply gave me a smarmy ass grin the harder I fought back.
It goes on like this for about an hour and my body is exhausted. My muscles can barely muster to strength to stand let alone fight back. And this was the moment he was waiting for.
Like a toy, he played with me, groping my pecs and feeling up my legs. I got shoved between his giant pecs, overwhelmed by his sweaty musk as my breathing was cut off. He spanked me until my skin was bright red beneath the singlet. And yet despite all this…I was ramrod hard. My pre was leading through the singlet, and my screams were grading into moans and whimpers.
This was what he was waiting for. My need for punishment, my desire for his body. I was helpless as he debased me, tearing off my singlet as he dug into my anus with his thick, calloused fingers. He made me beg for release, which I only happy obliged. It didn’t take long for the prostate massage to send me flying.
I could only see white as I blanked out, blitzed into oblivion as my body convulsed in pleasure I had heretofore never experienced. I was only vaguely aware of warmth coating my body, bathed in my own jizz as my voice faintly reaches my ears, cries of orgasmic joy.
When I was lucid enough, he looked down at me, a soft smile on his face. He offered me a water bottle as everyone around us began to clean up. He said I did great, and that he’d love to do this with me again sometime.
Keep training hard for Coach, son. Daddy wants you even bigger when you get home from the gym.
I always loved my daddy, and I’d do anything for him. Eat what he wants me to eat, as much as he needs me to eat. To work out as hard as he wants, for as long as he needs me to. He’s always guided me right for as long as I’ve known him and I owe my big sexy physique to his careful, yet strictly disciplined regiment.
When we get home the first thing he does is measure me. I flex my chest as big as I can as he takes the tape measure and judges me. His face was rigid and impassive, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It worries me that he makes no comment as he moves on. My biceps swell up enormously as I bend my arms, but barely a reaction comes from that either.
I sweat nervously as we keep going. From my bloated roid gut, down to my tree trunk thighs. He takes his measurements in chilled silence that makes me anxious. What if I’m not doing enough? What if he’s disappointed? Once the tape measure is put away he gives me a look, a knowing smirk. He finally leads me to the scale to get my final weight measurements.
“Just as I thought…” He murmured. I swallow hard, as he turns to me with a soft smile. “Fifteen pounds heavier. Not bad, boy.” My smile couldn’t have been any wider, my face a little flush. “Now, time for your reward.”
I happily drop to my knees in a thud, as daddy unzips his jeans as lets out his heavy, smelly cock. The musk hits my nose like a truck, overwhelming my senses as I lose myself again to this intoxicating scent. My enormous musculature twitches and shudders in excitement as I present myself to him. It was time for my protein.
There was a time these two were the hottest guys in high school. Tall, buff, with carefree attitudes; they were low key the sexiest guys who had their pick of any of the girls that fawned over them.
But that all changed in their college years. Or, year rather. The freshman fourties are cruel to any skinny guy entering fresh from high school, but these two had more of the freshman eighties.
With no adult supervision at their dorms, beer had essentially became their water. Protein shakes had doubled to fill their insatiable appetites for growth as well as just their hunger. Pizza parties became a nigh nightly event for them as well. Even with regular exercise and football, their bodies swelled, losing some muscle definition but gaining large, awkward asses and bellies.
Clothes became a chore to put on, as their jeans barely fit over their inflated cheeks, and their stomachs peaked out beneath their skin tight tees and tanks. Something else seemed to be happening at the same time however. The bigger their guts became, the greater their attraction to each other.
Seeing the other gorge themselves to inflated guts, while also flexing and showing off their still impressive bulk, aroused each other to the point of devolving into beasts in heat. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other as they continued taking copious amounts of pictures of their massive bulk.
These bros soon took more interest in each other than the girls they used to bang. Though with them having gained so much weight, women seemed to have lost interest in them anyway, which bothered neither in any way. It wasn’t too long before they dropped out of college and led a life of sexy only fans models and prostitution.
Could you believe I knew this guy in high school? Could you believe he was almost a completely different person then? When I first met Kay, he was an honors student. Hard worker, very smart, but also really quiet. Most people didn’t know what to make of him since he rarely ever talked, much less had friends.
We bumped into each other a lot, since I took a lot of the same classes as him. I was pretty smart in my own right, but Kay was the kid that you would think could make it to NASA and beyond. Well…it was until that night…
It was the end of year three of college. The dorms were pretty busy, some packing up to leave for home, some in the middle of celebrating and getting drunk. I was in my room, reading a YA novel I’d been putting off since I was as busy with classes. I was in a particularly exciting part when I heard a knocking at the door. Annoyed, I elected to ignore it at first, but the knocking was insistent so I got up with the intention of telling the guy to fuck off because I had no interest in getting drunk to party.
I open the door to find it wasn’t Chad from the end of the hall pushing booze in my face. It was Kay. And it looked like he had a medicine bottle of…something.
He asked if he could come in to which I agreed, anxious since he had caught me off guard. “What’s up Kay? Everything alright?” I asked. It was so strange because Kay had never approached me before. It was usually me going to him; asking questions, requesting favors, or just seeing if he needed company. Kay nodded quietly and leaned his wiry frame against the wall opposite my desk.
“I want you to go bar hopping with me.” His voice was soft, but still quite direct.
I could only wonder if I misheard him somehow. “I-I’m….excuse me?”
“Bar hopping.” He repeated, slightly louder. “You know, going from one bar to the next, drinking alcohol and–”
“No- no I get it, it’s just…” I stammered from being so flustered. “You? Bar hopping? I can barely convince you to drink caffeine, why are we going bar hopping?”
It was crazy that I was here. The Oasis was the local pub in our college area, and it took only five minutes to drive here from my dorm. And it would seem I’ll be somewhat of a chauffeur tonight. “Are you sure about this?” I ask Kay as he opens the pill bottle he’d been carrying all this time.
“Mmhm.” He nods. “I’ve been testing this all year. It’ll work. I know.”
Kay’s confidence is somewhat reassuring, yet that niggling concern in the back of my brain hasn’t stopped since we left my dorm room. I watch him pop the pill he’d taken out. The medicine he’d claimed to have been working on for years; even since we were juniors in high school. Nothing seemed to change outwardly, but I suppose that would have been a little premature.
I follow him inside, as The Oasis was filled with jovial college students and loud conversation. We found a corner towards the end of the bar with two empty seats, and took them. Kay speaks up, just barely audible over the crowd. “Remember, this is phase one. The changes will take time so we’ll have to head to a different bar in the mean time.” I nod as the bartender approaches us. “What can I get you boys.”
“I’ll take a water” I pipe up, then turning to Kay. “And he’ll have–”
“Whiskey. Neat.” My mouth was slightly agape at how matter of fact that order was. How does he even know what a ‘neat’ whiskey is?
The bartender looked at him like he had just heard a bad joke. It was clear to him and me that small, skinny Kay was not the type to drink often, if ever. So such a deceptively simple order got the bartender to be a little on the defensive. “You got ID, kid?”
Without skipping a beat, Kay reached into his back pocket and produced his state ID, and after confirming, the reluctant bartender returned with a small glass of whiskey and a tall glass of water for both of us. I was glad we had both recently turned 21, but that bartender could have easily just thrown us out on accusations of fake IDs with how bold Kay was being.
The moment of truth had come. Kay explained it to me as best he could, but the process was still a little confusing. “Whiskey though?” I asked tentatively.
Kay sighed. “I told you, the pill activates by absorbing a lot of the ethanol. In order for this to work, enough of the ethanol needs to make it to my bloodstream to dilate the vessels, thus maximizing output.”
His matter of fact explanation only serves to draw a defeated sigh from me. “Yes. Right. Of course.” He seems to know the specifics well enough, so it was time to just let Kay do his thing
as he sipped two gulps of whiskey straight down his gullet.
At fist there was…nothing. I sipped my water as I watched him intently. He didn’t seem to react at all. “Did…it work…?” I asked him. He didn’t respond, I don’t think he quite knew the answer either. But then his breathing started to quicken. It was getting deeper and faster. He seemed to be beading up small droplets of sweat on his brow.
“There…there it is…!” He breathed out excitedly. He took another deep swig of his drink, finishing it off and leaving his money on the counter. “Come on!” With an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen out of him before, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the place with shocking strength. For reference, I was five feet six inches tall, almost half a foot taller than Kay with a good thirty five pounds on him. Skinny little Kay was pulling me out of there like I was some kid.
We rushed to my car, and he explained to me that he didn’t want others to see the changes. “So…so it’s…?” I was confused because nothing seemed to be happening yet other than Kay sweating rivers off of his body. Instead of a coherent answer however, he started moaning and clutching his temples, as if he were having a migraine. But what happened next left me speechless.
Just as he had said, the pill combined with alcohol in his system was changing him. His wiry arms seemed to inflate on their own. Loose clothes were filling out with more body mass. And his definition showed off less bone and more muscle striations. Kay was gaining more and more muscular mass by the second.
Two minutes pass by and Kay seems to have gotten to a place of comfort again as he seemed to quiet down and settle into his new body. Both of us took long seconds to study the changes. Kay was ripped! He went from nerdy college kid to football player in a matter of minutes, and all it took was his new wonder pill and some booze! Just what the heck kind of research is he doing? I felt a little guilty thinking that if he looked way hotter this way.
In a fit of excitement I’d never seen from him before, Kay pulled me in for a big hug. I was somewhat flustered having his big, beefy arms around me but it was surprisingly nice. “Dude! It worked! It worked!” His jubilation was palpable, his bouncy motions shaking the car slightly. Once he released me he looked down at himself again. “God, I can’t believe it took me this long to perfect the formula!”
I couldn’t believe he did this at all. “Alright!” He exclaimed, patting me on the shoulder. “Next place! It’d be weird if you kept going in and out of the same place with a different looking guy each time, right?”
I nodded apprehensively as I turned on the car. Something suddenly occurred to me however as I shifted into drive. Something that Kay said that even more than his physique, really stood out all of a sudden.
In all the years I’ve known Kay, I had never heard him use the word 'dude’ before.
It takes him only a moment to pull his tight tank top off of his hulking torso. He’d been warned multiple times at this point that the gym technically has a very simple dress code: keeps tops and pants on. Yet despite this he delights in flaunting his massive musculature for everyone around him at any given time.
The first few times this happened, the owner tried his best to get him to behave, insisting that he could raise his gym fees or outright kick him out. But even the owner understood there was no real way he could enforce that, and the exhibitionist stud was obviously very wealthy considering how unphazed he was by the extra fees.
So now, big bulky himbro simply does what he wants, sometimes strutting in with no gym shorts but just a stringy tank top and a very racy poser that may as well have been just a thong. His exposed flesh attracted the attention of virtually everyone in the gym, from jealous skinny ones, to the thirsty horn dogs. He loved every second of attention he got, bouncing his hefty pecs in a mesmerizing dance and pulling on a sensitive nipple.
His sculpted ass practically swallowed the poser deep between his cheeks, exposing his wobbling butt as it commanded the gaze of everyone behind him. Despite his cocky demeanor, he was careful to shift his body around those he moved passed, as his incredibly wide frame made it difficult to move around in the packed facility. Though you could tell that some guys moved passed him intentionally to grope at his meaty body. It didn’t bother him of course. He knew he practically oozed sex appeal with his muscles alone, and often sought out the touch of others.
It made him feel powerful, wanted, desired. How could others not want to feel all this mass? At seven feet tall, he was monstrously larger than everyone around him; and the attention he received simply for being the giant muscle beast that he was. It was a short walk to the free weights, but the lustful stares and the casual groping already has his posers tenting from his erection.
As he picked up the heaviest free weights, there were already three guys around him, hunger and lust apparent in their gazes. “Just three today, huh?” His voice was deep and gravelly, with an intimidating tone. “Hmph. Guess means I get more time to actually work out today.” He could already feel the invasive touch of the three men who were so enraptured by this giant that they couldn’t even care less about the attention they’re attracting.
It would be later in the day, towards closing that the owner would walk into the locker rooms, checking things to make sure nothing was left behind. The owner sighed however at the filthy mess the idiot meat head left behind. Three muscular gym goers, ass raised and passed out on the floor. Semen covered not just the floors, but the ruined bodies of the three men, with even more leaking out of their loose and empty holes. It was going to be another long closing night for the owner.
Another night back to his dorm room, where he lays about in nothing but his jock strap as usual. The moment I enter, I can smell it. The pungent stink of his sweat, musk, and stale snacks.
Every night I come over to finish his math homework, since he’s been failing and I can at least consistently make it look like he’s getting his C+ average legitimately. It takes me about a couple of hours while he flicks away at his phone, no doubt bad mouthing me to his jock buddies.
I steal several peeks at him throughout my visit. It’s hard not to get distracted. Even amongst the football players, he was huge. Tallest in the team with the thickest muscles by far. His huge pecs heave as his softly breathes. The various muscles along his arm twitch subtly as he pokes at his phone. It was warm too. With him coming in from practice just before this, he kept a light sheen of sweat over his body; his muscular features almost seemed to shine under the dorm lights.
When I finally finish his work, I pick up my things and go about my night…when I’m grabbed by my shoulders and flung against the bed, prone. He climbs on top me, his legs taking my arms against my sides. His heavy, sweltering crotch grinds into my abs as he leans over me, almost menacingly.
“You think I didn’t notice you staring at me, you fucking nerd?” My stomach twisted itself in knots after hearing that I was sure he was gonna kill me…but instead he started flexing for me. His gorgeous musculature performs a mesmerizing dance as his flexible torso bends this way and that, showing off his cobblestone abs and his intimidating arms. The smell is near unbearably strong, filling my nostrils with him…his scent. His essence, in a way.
I could only helplessly form a tent in my pants as my very sexy captor continued to tease me with his performance. After a while he growled into my ear, sending shivers throughout my body. “Come to my room every night like usual, nerd. I may bother giving you a reward for all your hard work.”
The rest of the night would be spent drinking his semen, and he had cum so many times my jaw hurt and my legs felt wobbly with every step. He had unceremoniously thrown me out once he was done, with a reminder to come back tomorrow night. I felt my crotch, and the inside was wet, sticky, and gross. I think I had cum from being used by him…
I sigh deeply as I drag myself out of the car. It’s been quite the day at the office. Seemingly endless problems everywhere by incompetent managers and weak leaders. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll be easier to just lay off the whole board and start over from scratch.
I say that, though I can’t imagine not coming home to my beautiful home each night. Definitely couldn’t afford this remote place without a CEO’s salary. “Welcome home, master…” I smile as Bull greets me. Without my influence and wealth, I certainly couldn’t keep him either.
Bull is, or was, a high school acquaintance. You know the usual story; popular football jock, ripped as heck, cool as hell. Though he couldn’t quite get the scholarships he needed to escape the podunk little town he was trapped in.
So he came to me. Called me, begging for a job. It was almost pathetic honestly, and after looking through his resume I was even less impressed. I almost tossed him back out when I noticed he put down a strip club in his experiences.
The big lug was actually shy talking about it. Said that times were tough and that he’d do anything. My mind was spinning its gears. Anything seems pretty over the top, I told him. But he insisted. And so? I gave him a test run.
It took only a moment of convincing, as well as assurances of his very generous salary to get him to put on his new uniform. A white collar and black tie, with a tight, skimpy thong. Oh the protests that followed. You’d think he’d be grateful for literally picking him off the streets and allowing him to stay in my home as my live in butler. And I wasn’t blind. I could see how he enjoyed showing off his body.
Say what you will about Bull, but he kept his body very well built. Thick, bulky muscles that gracefully moved across my halls. His bare chest gleamed under the lights, and that round, rock hard ass flexed nicely as he walked.
Every now and then, he would make a mistake. Talked back. Not keep things as tidy as I’d like. And when that happened, I would punish him.
There’s a basement I’d drag him to, literally pulling on a leash. There he’d be restrained in various positions, depending on my mood. Some days I’d spank him with a paddle until his generous glutes were red. Sometimes I would torture his nipples until he cried. But every punishment would include ways of keeping him aroused and erect. To pleasure him enough to keep him hard, and to continually deny his orgasm. I would lock his cock inside a chastity cage to make sure he didn’t relieve himself while I was at work. Sometimes I’d leave him locked in the basement.
It’s quite the sight when you see it the first time. When a man as big and proud as Bull finally gets on their knees. Looking up at me, begging for orgasm. Whimpering pathetically for release. It triggered something in me that I had never felt before. Like my whole body shivered watching this man debase himself before me.
Bull has now been in my employ for six months. He’s learned to greet me upon my return, as well as properly take care of the house. I haven’t trusted him with cooking, though that may be a project at a later date.
“M-master?” Bull timidly asks. “May I have my drink now? I’m quite thirsty…” I smile. I pull on his tiny thong and lead him to the kitchen. I pull open the fridge to reveal half a dozen sealed cups inside. I pull one out, removing the lid and granting it to my pet, who accepts it graciously.
The smell is thick, and cloying. The texture is creamy, like a milkshake. But as he drank from it, there’s a deeply bitter taste that Bull can’t get enough of. Some of it drips down his chin as he gulps it down.
I had learned that Bull *loves* drinking his own semen. Once a week, I drain his balls off as much cum as I can without hurting him, and then mix it with a nutrient rich protein shake. Not only does it help maintain his body, but it deeply arouses him as well.
I shake my head as I approach my pathetic little bull. His erection is leaking pre all over my kitchen floor. It seems I’ll have to punish him again tonight. Upon hearing that, Bull’s body visibly shivers with excitement.
When a jock bro loses his sport, it’s like he loses his purpose. He used to be star of the wrestling team in high school. Scholarships lined up and ready to take on university. But a knee injury had essentially crippled him, invalidating his chances at any given sport for the foreseeable future.
This had sent him into a depressive funk, opting to eat away his feelings. He manages his mood with weightlifting as well, doing what he can to avoid any exercises that used his knees.
He was feeling so sorry for himself, but his best friend was the one guy who always tried to keep things positive. He said he loved the ex jocks bulky body, said that he looked better that way. And they also got to spend way more time together now that practice was out of the equation. Far more time, to explore some strange new feelings they began having for each other.
Every now and then, the ex-jock’s friend would come over with a tub of potato salad and several thermos’ of protein shake. After a grueling day of lifting weights, it was only appropriate to fuel back up right? They would play with the bloated gut after stuffing him silly, and admire the sexy massive body they were now cultivating.
I loved being here. The soothing sounds of the water, the sun warming my topless chest…the quiet stares I attracted…
It’s no secret why I’m here. My benefactor loves bringing me along like a little trophy to show off. I rank high in lots of bodybuilding completions. And he’s the one who supplies me with special trainers, supplements, food…and in return I get to be his little play thing when it suits his purpose.
His hands reach beneath my arms and wrap around me, finding their way to my stubby nipples. I jump a little, but not necessarily surprised. He seems to really like playing with my chest these days. I wonder if that’s why he’s been having me focus on my pecs lately…
The country club is relatively quiet, and nobody makes a fuss at the public display of lewd affection. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, pet.” He whispers in my ear. His deep voice is deceptively commanding under the kind pretense. It makes my body shudder excitedly.
“Y-yes sir.” I breathed back. “Very much.” He caught sight of my growing tent beneath my swim shorts. I could almost feel his predatory smile.
“Goood. Because I’m feeling famished. And you’re the only delectable snack anywhere around this drab place.” His nimble hands begin teasing my crotch and pulling my nipples while the people around us were clearly watching. Their gazes burned across my skin, my shame burning from within. I could only whimper as I thanked my benefactor graciously.
He was really good at numbers, one upon a time. Complex equations, theoretical analysis, game theory and advanced calculus…but these days he just likes to see numbers go up.
Higher counts means more reps. Bigger measurements means bulkier muscles. Larger digits means a heavier body. He only craves for more.
From when this obsession started, nobody could say. One day he was a promising young scientist leading his field in academics, and the next he gained more and more interest in gym time; with less and less dedication to his studies. Some say it was drugs. Others a head injury. Maybe amnesia or blackmail?
Regardless of how it started, there was little signs of stopping. Just today, his meaty thighs had burst through the seams of yet another pair of jeans. Just finding a shirt that fit was a challenge these days since his thick, meaty pecs would rip apart any tops he tried on.
Most of his days are spent in the gym, mindlessly pushing through his routines, lifting hundreds of pounds more than most others in his quest to become even bigger, ever stronger.
He had held the measuring tape as he measured his thighs once more. Upon seeing that he had gained five more inches in his quads, his whole body shuddered, shakingand flexing lewdly as semen soaked into his skin tight boxers. He cried out approvingly, his deep voice reverberating through the apartment. Knowing how much he was growing, seeing those numbers go up; there was nothing more thrilling or exciting for him.
If course, he wasn’t finished. Not yet. He needed that high again. He needed to feel that satisfaction. Back to the gym, he needs to see those numbers go up, just once more.
The online ad was pretty straightforward. “Huge muscle daddy looking for pocket boi to play with all night”.
Even as I stood at the door, I couldn’t quite believe it. My height being five foot two inches, I’d figured I was pretty ideal for him. I love dating and hooking up with men built like giant beasts, and I was really excited. Still am to be fair. But when I first laid eyes on him for the first time, my jaw went slack as I craned my neck toward at the behemoth above me.
I couldn’t tell you his height, it was unreal. He had to crouch a bit just to see outside the door frame. His crotch was just beneath my eye level when he stood straight up. And that’s just how tall he was.
The muscular monster beckoned me in, floor rumbling as I followed him. His undershirt was stretched and taut, almost like a second skin over his wide musculature. They bulged obscenely, flexing and relaxing in powerful harmony. Just watching him walk was like a powerful predator, stalking prey and getting ready to pounce.
He sits on his bed, the weight of his bulk sinking deep into the mattress as he fished around in his sweatpants for his cock. There was no pretense. He knew what he wanted, and he knew why I was there. After he dropped his pants, he had the biggest, juiciest cock I’d ever seen in my life. I was sure if he got into it, he’d split me in half as I creamed myself into his mattress.
But there was no turning back. I craved it. This ravenous behemoth needed to relieve himself in a meek little prey…and I was more than happy to oblige.
He runs his hands across his oily body as you watch him intently. He’s been quite the exhibitionist, having no reservations taking off his clothes on command. Even before tonight, he preferred walking around a stringy tanktop and skin tight booty shorts.
You feel a little guilty having to hypnotize him this way, but after all the grief this jocked up asshole put you through, the least he owed you was his complete subservience for…well for the foreseeable future. Considering he’s still consciously aware of what’s happening you’re in no rush to let him go. And besides, what good is all this beautiful muscle if not to show it off like the slut you made him into?
You can tell no thoughts cross his mind at all since his expression is a dull, and his words are slow and slurred. Though honestly, his personality before wasn’t particularly captivating before anyway. If anything this was an improvement.
Once he’s finished polishing his body to a glistening shine, you order him to his knees. His exposed cock is rock hard, leaking as he is up to you with sexual need. You lick your lips, ready to really indulge yourself with this juicy piece of meat.
It’s said that a certain airline started getting a lot more business when they offered the “meaty services” package. Simply put, all the regular stewardesses are replaced with hunky, muscular men who tend to your every need. Many men and women come aboard to have their fun ogling and flirting with these beefcakes.
At first, it had gained a lot of popularity with business men and politicians. But since the service is available at a relatively cheap cost, many people are able to enjoy the “meaty services” special and the muscle men can happily service more clients.
While on paper sex with the muscle servants is strictly forbidden, they still have a tendency to take their favorite customers to the bathroom or the employees only area to have a private servicing session. And it’s not like anyone is going to tell either.
So what do these beefy airmen get out of it? Well, aside from the mile high benefits, they also provided a discreet supply of roids and supplements to keep up their musculature. After all, you’re not qualified for this line of work unless you’re at LEAST two hundred pounds of muscle.
It had started as a side gig. He’d been fired from his office job for incompetence, but he had little skills and no degree to fall back on. The one thing he had going for him was his huge, muscular body.
Years of dedicated gym time, some discreetly procured roids, and a hint of luck with genetics had blessed him with a large, wonderfully sculpted frame. Wide shoulders and a thin waist gifted him with a beautiful silhouette, with thick legs and a huge ass to complete the package.
He had been scouted at a bar he frequented to do some modeling work. It was easy money, plus it gave him a chance to show off. He liked puffing up his muscles and preening his coiffure to seek attention. He often got off, even at the gym, whenever he knew people stared at him.
Even though the job was good however, what made it even better was the clothes he was given. Tight shirts, stringy tank tops, shorts that rode way too far up your legs…every shoot was an exhibition session as he flexed and posed in lewd ways he’d never done before.
Of course, the jobs eventually progressed into underwear. Briefs, square cuts, even thongs and jocks. But his favorite was the red singlet. Thin straps that connected with the crotch area, a pouch that hugged his package tightly, and a back that practically vanished between his enormous ass cheeks. This singlet left nothing to the imagination, and the way it clung to him made him feel unbelievably sexy.
He took it home with him after the photo shoot, using it as his gym wear the next day. Needless to say, he drew every eye in the facility. From pearl clutching indignant old ladies, to the thirstiest muscle obsessed boys.
His exposed nipples would occasionally rub against the taut straps. His exposed rear would find itself brushing against many greedy hands. He casually flexed his beefy arms and full, round pecs. A small crowd would gather around him and follow him as he worked out. He was treated less like an athlete and more like a stripper at a club.
Eventually, he would lead this small group to the locker room where they would grope and molest him. Massaging and licking every inch in worship of his incredible physique.
By the time he left the gym, his small following had already forced three orgasms out of him. And yet he was still ready to finish his intense work out. The red singlet, reeking of sweat and sex, never came off for the rest of the day.
His feet fall heavily as you follow behind him. You could swear they made the world shake around you with each step. You look up to him as his wide back sways gently, what back muscles that peek through his tank top ripple with every movement.
You have been serving this muscle god for months now, following him around with his bag. When he asks for his drink, you bring it to him. When he needs his sweat dried, there you are with a towel. When changing in the locker room, you were the one to help take his oversized clothes off of his beefy body.
It was a strange sight from the outside, but you were blessed with the privilege of servicing this beastly hunk for the pleasure of worshipping his massive musculature. He’d bring you home after a workout without showering, where you were allowed to bathe him with your tongue. The cloying stench overwhelmed you, and the taste of his musk makes you dizzy.
His marble hard body is the overwhelming temple you pray to daily, gladly taking into your body both his wonderous sight, and his virile seed. Disciple to the religion of muscle, even your orgasms are at his discretion, spilling your seed only when he says so.
Today, he does back exercises. You stand mesmerized at his powerful bulk as his body hefts an impossible amount of weight. By the time he finishes, his body glistens in reeking sweat. He summons you over to give him his water. After gulping some down, he gives you a look, and a promise with his deep, rumbling voice. A rough, powerful fucking as reward. Your pants are already stained in your pre.
He smiled broadly as he puffed out his chest to his client. Huge and muscular, while being lean and toned; he had a body that must would worship as god like beauty…but tonight he’d be shamed and debauched like the lecherous whore he presented himself as.
Skylar used to be smaller. Much smaller. He had liked it that way though, as it left him to blend into the crowd more. He didn’t have many friends, and his awkwardness left him alienating others more often than not. He did have one thing going for him size wise, and that was his enormous cock.
Hung like a beast of burden with virility to match. Skylar’s thick, pendulous meat swung eleven inches between his legs when hard, and his semen output would put bulls to shame.
But it wouldn’t stay this way forever. A strange text message had been sent to him. “Would you like to exchange?” With a reply feature saying YES, or NO. What happens next couldn’t be explained. Perhaps his finger slipped, maybe he was groggy from lack of sleep. Maybe he was curious, or was being ironic. But whatever the cause, his heart or his shoes, he sent the reply, saying YES to god knows who.
It was then that Skylar’s changes began. Changes his friends couldn’t explain. Skylar began hitting up the gym, more and more. Half an hour a day, one hour a day, three hours…weeks would pass and Skylar would be making progress and hitting goals at an exponential pace.
His once frail body was beginning to expand rapidly into a strong, beefy musculature. But that wasn’t all that was changing. Inversely to his miraculous growth, his thoughts seemed to be dwindling in sharpness.
As an English lit major, he regularly made use of his advanced parlance; but his dialect gradually simplified, his vernacular being reduced to simpler words until his speech patterns became injected with gym slang like “bro” and “beasting”. Soon, you’d have wondered if he even finished high school when his vocabulary seemed to be limited to monosyllabic responses and grunts.
All the while, his chest expanded into thick slabs of beefy muscle. Arms, once barely able to hold the bar, were now thick cords of raw power. His waist was trimmed and tough, as his wide frame tapered inward into a beautifully cut figure. Legs that were awkward in their frail clumsiness, now exploded with mass and power. Even the way Skylar walked exuded confidence as his strides became wider and heavier.
There was one other change that no one could explain. One that Skylar didn’t mind as much. The more muscular he became, the smaller his crotch shrunk. Inch by precious inch, his once proud symbol of virility was gradually becoming quite average. Eventually, his manhood was barely considered as such, stopping at a mere three inches hard. His balls had dried up considerably, spewing out a pitiful amount of semen even on a good day.
And how Skylar reveled in it.
At the gym he’d get showered with affection and complements on his juicy physique. Yet when he’d post nudes on his social media, he’d be teased and shamed for his tiny dick. Emasculated and objectified, Skylar descended into a life of debauched pleasure. He loved letting other men get off on him. To use his body and to be made the play thing.
It wasn’t long before Skylar left his college life. He made more than enough money for sexual favors, and only fans would sustain his everyday needs. He craved the shame that came with being a “dickless piece of meat.” Bulking up bigger, stronger muscles because that’s all he can do. Lift, eat, get fucked, repeat.
It would soon be all the knew. And it would be all he needed.
His smile was ear to ear. He loved this look, of indecent modesty. By all technicality he was clothed, and yet the tight fabric clung to every crease and bulge in his musculature, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could walk around with his cheeks teasingly flexing about. His reflexive chest pumps greeting passersby. Every now and then, he’d reach down to his tightly wrapped package and grope himself knowingly.
It was a type of exhibitionism that he reveled in, as his enormous bulk captured the curiosity of those around him, but his bulging semi caught the attention of those who wanted him. By the days end, he’ll have taken two more guys and one more woman home to let them worship his powerful body. Starting out by peeling the skin tight lycra off of his sweaty, glistening body.
Isn’t this what you wanted? Wasn’t this the goal? Bloated so full of muscle and bulk that you can barely perform basic things like taking off your clothes.
It was manageable at first. You liked the tight feeling of your old clothes as your pecs stretched the fabric. It made you look even bigger than you already were becoming. But then the sleeves started ripping at the seams. They had to be pulled off outright just to not look like a huge mess. But then you couldn’t even put them on anymore without tearing it all apart.
No problem, you thought to yourself. Just buy another set of clothes. It’s not that bad. But then you kept growing. Pound after pound, inch upon inch, your body inflated, and your new set of clothes were ripping apart, same as the last.
Except it wasn’t just the clothes anymore. Your arms were so thick and bulky, doing anything basic was becoming awkward. Just putting on anything was a chore you didn’t even bother with half the time.
But you didn’t care did you? You needed more mass. So you kept going to the gym, kept pumping that iron. You could bench twice that of the next strongest guy. Your pecs were starting to obstruct your view of the floor, and your thighs are forced to waddle terribly.
You’re biggest problem was your income. You spent too much clothing yourself, and your money is stretched so thin you could barely afford the food and gym funds necessary to keep up your growth.
Eventually, you turned to the internet to solve your problems. It was awkward at first, just posting your muscles online. There were many thirsty guys who would do anything to worship your beautiful bulk. Your inbox is full of messages all detailing the nasty things they’d do to you.
But hey, money is money right? This is the life you trapped yourself in. Building up big, useless muscles that are only good for worship and sex. You’ll learn to love it. You’ll internalize it as part of you. The debasement, the debauchery.
This is your life. The life of a useless himbo. And you couldn’t ask for anything else.
He was so proud of himself. The table was clean and neat, just as you’d ordered him. The first couple of times you’d gotten your little boi toy to set up the dining table, the results were…less than acceptable. But you’d trained him well enough now to where not only is it competent, but he does so without prompt.
Of course, that cocky attitude of his is something you’ll still have to curb. Pride isn’t a very charming trait in a muscle servant. And he’s still quite individualistic as well. Nothing less than complete devotion to you is acceptable, and you’ll do what he can to make it that way. But for tonight? Well, you’ll give him this one. After all, he needs to get back to his workouts after lunch. After all, his muscles are still pretty small for your liking.
Huhuh. You like these pecs bruh? Made em myself. Big, bouncy, super tough. Love going to the gym with my shirt off and bang out some mad bench presses. My muscles burn so good after, makes me feel so fuckin sexy huhuh.
What’s that? Ya wanna ride on my cock? Sure thing bruh. Just strip down and show me your bod.
Man, you could do some time in the gym too bruh. No worries though. I’ll pump ya full of my seed and we’ll hit the weights harder than I’ve fucked ya.
I love prepping for vids. It’s like getting ready for like, a movie, you know what I mean? Getting ready to look good on camera so that all the simps wet their fucking pants.
Did some chest workouts today for some extra pec pump. Love the burning feeling in my muscle tits, and when I squeeze my nips, I go so damn crazy. Let’s be honest, gay boys love the pecs ‘cuz they wanna be fed my thick muscle milk.
I’ve been saving up too. Haven’t jacked off in almost a week, and last time I did that I got covered in my musky cream. I’m so hard, I can tell there’s a huge load down there.
Door bell’s ringing. Guess he got here in time. Oh, didn’t ya know? I give special treatment for my real good fans. This guy donated a thousand bucks in one go, so now he gets to fuck my ass raw. Hell yeah, this is gonna be a wild stream dude.
The hat was just a fashion thing at first. No particular reason for it. He just looked a little cooler, stood out a little more, and if he wore it backwards it was to be ironic.
Jacob didn’t even remember where he got it. It wasn’t bought, certainly, he could only recall having picked it up somewhere on campus. When he put it on, he mentioned feeling a little cooler. Moreso, he felt more relaxed overall. Jacob’s mind often ran rampant with a constant steam of worries, fears, and anxieties. Yet the moment he put on the cap, he found himself much more able to focus on one thing at a time and gained some confidence.
He also seemed to gain a new interest and hobby. Bodybuilding. Muscle was never something he used to take interest in, but as the days passed, his time spent in the gym seemed to gradually go up. His half hour jogs on the treadmills was now two hours of weight lifting.
His friends were concerned. Jacob wasn’t mean to anyone, but his interests changing left him spending less and less time with them.
What were long days spent building MTG decks were now him checking in for a couple of games before dipping out for a jog. What was intense study sessions turned into tutoring classes for Jacob who was understanding his classes less and less.
His body, inversely, was exploding with growth. The 115 lb frame had put on a lot of muscle mass. His chest pushed outward as a heavy slab of muscle, his gut defined itself with cobblestone abs, and his arms grew thick and dense. Jacob loved how hot he looked with all that beefy muscle, as his presence on social media boomed.
The biggest change was his image on campus. Jacob was the jock. Big, cocky, flaunting his strength and showing a lot of skin. His attire was either skimpy or skin tight, which got him layed by much of the horniest kids in college. But despite his numerous encounters, all of Jacob’s partners share the same thing.
Jacob was a bottom bitch.
Whether taking it up the ass or tied down and punished, Jacob let his partners treat him like their personal toy. He loved being treated like a piece of meat. To be shamed and abused. Sometimes, videos of his debasement would crop up, spreading his debauched body to any interested party.
The one condition, was that the hat never came off. He loved having it on. It quite the storm in his mind. So silent, one could wonder if any thoughts passed through looking at his vacant, dopey smile. Although if he’s being fucked, it was almost certain there wasn’t.
There’s just something about him that irritates the living hell out of me. Was it his cockiness? The obnoxious music choice? The way he puckers his lips like some ditzy Instagram model from the mid 2010s?
It’s that kind of confident muscle bro that’s most satisfying to break and bend over. To breed and to punish. Because once humbled, these kinds of guys show their true colors.
Iron hard muscles pumped up and flexed. Spotlights glaring down and highlighting every movement. Thousands of eyes staring at him and him alone. Him, who layed everything bare except his tiny crotch which is wrapped up in a poser so tight, one could wonder about his sex at a glance.
But there was no questioning his manliness. Bulging biceps and a bloated roid gut, thick slabs of pecs supporting enormous shoulders. His back was also no joke, extending wide and imposing. There was no greater pleasure for him than to be seen. There was only one thing he did better.
But that’s something that’ll have to wait until after the show.