I started the next day with a workout that was much more intense than usual. I believe I was trying to subconsciously emphasize my size and strength because of the weird feeling that had been present when I awoke that morning. My first thought had been about Walter Masters and how much I desired him. My second thought had been full of embarrassment and a little shame at how I had acted around him. I had been reduced to some kind of wimp or ass-licker and I did not like it. I usually towered over any man I met, both physically and mentally. Why in the hell had I allowed this man to get under my skin so much? Why had I shot a giant load of cum just from thoughts of Mr. Masters plowing my ass? Why did I still have this strong desire to make the man immensely happy, even after all of my feelings of displeasure at how he affected me? This is what made me load extra weight on every bar I lifted that morning. I was worn out at the end of my workout and sitting in the locker room when my cell phone rang. I saw that it was Sean, so I answered.
“Hey Sean.”
“Well, you made quite the impression last night, mister.”
“What?”
“Walter couldn't stop talking about you after you were gone.”
Even though I was exhausted, my cock jerked hard at Sean’s words. I immediately felt a surge of happiness envelope my body because Walter Masters had talked about me. For a brief second I realized how idiotic and childish my reaction was, but it didn't matter. I was giddy like a love-stricken eighth grade school girl. I tried desperately to hide my excitement from Sean and attempted to speak very calmly.
“That’s very kind of him. I'm flattered.”
“Come on Royd, it’s me, Sean. I know you are a lot more than flattered. This is the Walter Masters, a man that makes me sometimes wish I had never met Curtis, and you know how much I love my man. So, don't be playing all innocent and calm with me, spill baby, spill. Tell daddy Sean all that happened! How did I miss this love connection happening?”
“Really, Sean, don't get overly dramatic. We just talked. Mr. Masters spoke to many people. It was no big deal.”
“The man made me rearrange people’s places at my table so he would be beside you, Royd. Don't tell me it wasn't a big deal. You know I've had that table arrangement planned for weeks and put you where Stan, the no show, would have sat if he could have been there. Walter knows what a control freak I am. He would not ask to be moved unless there was something very important that he would gain. I also saw him follow you outside after you left. The man has set his sights on you, Royd. Mark my words.”
“You are a control freak and you notice way too much. Yes, he did follow me out to my car and he asked me out.”
“I knew it! Please tell me you said yes. If you didn't I swear I will come down there and punch you out, that is, if a punch from me could hurt you in any possible way. Seriously, tell me you said yes.”
“I said yes.”
“Good boy! Now I'll be able to live vicariously through you. What did you think of Walter?”
There are people in our lives that are somehow able to get us to share anything. Sean was one of those people for me. I knew I needed to confide in someone about the diverse feelings that Walter Masters caused to well up in me, so this was a perfect opportunity to come clean.
“He turns me on so fucking much, Sean!”
“Join the club, Royd, join the club!”
“But there’s something more. I can't really describe it. When I'm around him I get all flustered and turn into some sort of subservient idiot.”
“Wow, even the big alpha dog, Royd, falls under the Walter Masters’ spell.”
“What?”
“Listen, Royd. Everyone I know has a similar reaction to Walter – even me. I can't explain it, but the guy has some kind of super power that makes other men go weak at the knees and act in strange ways. I've only known a few guys that Walter has dated, but one thing has been in common with all of them. They were all huge and they were all insanely devoted to the man.”
There was something in Sean’s words that both soothed and agitated me at the same time. I was immediately happy to hear that Mr. Masters liked big men. I didn't usually use my size to catch a person, but if my body pleased Masters that made me very happy. But at the same time I was really disturbed by the fact that other people had a similar bizarre reaction to the man. The kind of attraction that made people do crazy things, like spend an entire workout session daydreaming of what the man’s cock would feel like shoved up your ass. I was becoming a little more distressed by my overwhelming desire to have this man approve of me. I felt like I was some small child looking for my parents’ affirmation about something I had done. It was really hard to explain, but I wanted Mr. Masters to give me his blessing in some way – just to let me know that I was worthy of him. All of these conflicting feelings were very confusing and immensely frustrating.
“So did he ever date one of these guys for a long time?”
“Listen to you, already planning a wedding. I don't know Royd; he’s such a private man. I know he hasn't dated anyone for a very long time. I met one guy about five years ago, but I can't remember his name. One thing for sure, though, the dude wasn't as big as you. I think you might be a keeper for my man Walt. Like I said, he likes giant muscular guys that aren't afraid to show off their size and strength. That’s one of the things I remember about the last guy he dated, he wore a lot of tight clothes and was always making sure Walter was taken care of, you know, like always getting his drink, holding his coat, opening the door, and much more. I think Walter loves to be taken care of, even though he doesn't need anything or anyone.”
This last part of our conversation made me very happy. I felt like I was getting some inside scoop on how to win over a potential boyfriend. Sean was like my Cyrano de Bergerac feeding me lines to woo Walter Masters. I memorized everything he said and immediately started thinking of ways to impress the man on our date. My mind was so focused on the upcoming evening that I didn't realize that Sean had been silent for a few seconds.
“Oh shit, Royd, you're really smitten aren't you? This is great. I like you both so much and it would make me very happy if you two were together. Of course you'll have to promise to tell me everything. I'm serious. Promise me Royd. Promise me right now.”
“I know better than to make that promise, Sean. I will, however, promise to tell you as much as I can. There’s something fiercely secretive about Walter Masters and I get a strong feeling that I shouldn't do anything to displease him. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like people sharing his personal stuff.”
“That’s a wise choice, Royd. I'll settle for you telling me what you can. That will have to do. So, this little pact starts right after your date. When are the two of you going out?”
“Tonight.”
“Dayyum, boy, you move fast. Or, more likely, Walter moves fast. Well that means you'll have to call me tomorrow and tell me what you can. Okay?”
“Yes, I will. And listen, Sean, thanks for inviting me last night. I had a really nice time.”
“Well I do believe you had the nicest time of anyone, well except for Walter, of course. I'll talk to you tomorrow, big man. Don't do anything I wouldn't do tonight and you know that leaves it wide open. Bye for now!”
“Bye Sean.”
I sat in the middle of the locker room thinking about my conversation with Sean. I was now even more confused by Mr. Walter Masters than before. It was hard for me to believe that other people had the same kind of reaction to the man as I did. I wondered if their reaction was just as intense as mine had been. Did they shoot a gob of cum into their pants, as well? Sean said he was attracted to Masters, but his desire did not seem to be as overwhelming as mine. Was it because he had known the guy for so long? Did the intensity wear off the longer you knew the man? Or was it something else? After a few more seconds of contemplation I had a revelation. Maybe the size of the man that was attracted to Masters had something to do with the severity of the reaction. Could my three hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle have something to do with the way that Walter Masters reduced me to such a total slave pup? A feeling deep inside of me said that I was right. I also began to think that this also had a lot to do with the fact that Walter Masters was drawn to big men. I became determined to fight the feeling this evening. I decided that Masters would not have the same intense power over me as he did the night before. After all, I was fucking strong and powerful myself. I would use my strength to not fall under whatever spell the man had on people. I had just spent three hours lifting more weight than two or three men can lift together. I surely could withstand the attraction of a small man like Masters. I suddenly had a lot more energy than I had a few minutes before. My cock was still hard as stone, but I had been empowered by my reminder of who I was and what I could do. I was going to be the one in control on our date. Tonight, Mr. Walter Masters would definitely see that I am the alpha dog in our budding relationship. He would be the guy shooting a wad in his pants this evening – just from being around my body and my strength. I felt more powerful than I had felt in a long time and I was very much looking forward to my date with Walter.
At ten until seven that evening I was standing on the front steps of my townhouse covered in a nervous sweat as I waited for Mr. Masters. The confidence I had felt that morning in the gym had slowly dissipated during the day and completely drained from my body around six o'clock. I began to worry about every little detail as I prepared for my date. I changed clothes about eight times because I was desperate to find the right outfit to please Walter Masters. I washed gel out of my hair two times because I was sure I could make it look better for my date. When I noticed it was a quarter until seven I grabbed and put on the tightest shirt and pants I owned, grabbed my wallet and keys, and rushed downstairs. I did not want to keep Mr. Masters waiting, even for a minute. I was nervous he might arrive early so I wanted to be down there just in case. As I stood there waiting for the man I noticed that my heart was pounding loudly in my ears as it had the night before when I first met Masters. I also realized that my stomach was full of butterflies and I felt very light headed. I knew I needed to calm myself down so I spoke to myself out loud.
“Shit, get it together Roided. Where’s that bravado you had this morning? Remember who you are boy! Look at you. You're a fucking huge man and Walter Masters is basically a short little guy. Why are you getting so worked up? Calm down, Royd, calm down. You're just as good as Masters. You have nothing to be nervous about.”
At that moment I looked down my street and noticed a shiny black limousine making its way slowly in my direction. I knew it was Mr. Masters right away. I stepped down to the curb and waited. I glanced at my watch, but I knew it would be seven on the nose before I even looked. The limo pulled into the empty space in front of my place, which was reserved for drop offs and pick-ups. I clasped my hands together to try and prevent them from shaking. I also held them straight down to try and cover the blaring hard-on that pressed against my pants. My mouth went dry as the driver opened his door, said good evening, and then opened the back door for me to get in. I bent low, grabbing the side of the car to steady myself, and entered the spacious back of the limo.
“Good evening, Royd.”
God, just his voice alone sent shivers down my body as I slid into the seat beside Mr. Walter Masters. I didn't respond to him immediately. I just stared at him like a man that was seeing water for the first time after being lost in the desert for days. He looked incredible. His hair was perfect in that messed-up-but-it’s-supposed-to-look-like-this sort of way. He had on a collared Ted Baker shirt and some dark slacks. He was a beautiful man. That’s the only thought that kept running through my mind. My mouth opened but I could not speak. I just continued to look at the man beside me.
“You look very nice, Royd. That shirt and those pants show off all of your bulging attributes.”
I was instantly embarrassed and realized that he was mostly referring to my hard cock. My hands shot to my crotch to cover the thick piece of stiff meat. This made Walter Masters smile and that, in turn, made me flush a darker shade of red. I took a deep breath to calm my shaking body. I also finally realized that the car had begun to move.
“Why so nervous, Mr. Roided?”
“I don't know. You just seem to have some kind of power over me that makes me weak at the knees.”
I was surprised by my own honesty, but I was also trying to keep the conversation light and fun. Masters reached over and placed his hand on top of mine, which was resting on the other one that was covering my cock. The moment his skin touched mine I was overcome with a need to cry out in pleasure, but it quickly passed and my body began to settle down. He grabbed my hand tightly and my heart began to beat slower, as if I was falling into the rhythm of his body. Once we both knew my body was peaceful, as well my cock, he took his hand from mine and placed it back in his own lap. Again, I was amazed at how this man could manipulate my body’s needs so easily. I was breathing normal and I felt natural.
“I don't believe your knees are very weak, Royd. As a matter of fact, I don't think there’s a weak part to that beautiful body of yours. I'd say you're pretty strong.”
His compliment soothed me even more. I was filled with happiness at the thought that he noticed and liked my body. I felt affirmed and it was like I had pleased him in some way. I turned to look into his beautiful eyes. He was staring at me with a smile that invited me even more deeply into his mysterious power. I felt protected and comforted in a way that was hard to explain. I also desired the man more than before, if that was even possible.
“We're feeling a lot calmer now, aren't we, my friend?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your heart’s not pounding uncontrollably and you're not sweating up a storm, right?”
I could not believe he knew my body had reacted this way. Was the guy a mind reader or something? I was blown away at how well he knew me, but at the same time it felt natural and familiar.
“No, that’s all stopped, sir. But how could you know that was happening to me?”
“Call it intuition Royd or something like it. Maybe it’s because I can sense weakness in other men. I don't know what it is, but I know you're a lot better now.”
His words stung me in a way that I couldn't explain. It was a mixture of being hurt and also knowing that he had hit the nail on the head. I still had enough self confidence to chuckle at the fact that he thought I was weak. I initially wanted to grab his skinny neck with my massive hand to show him just how powerful I was, but there was a feeling still buried somewhere in my subconscious that bubbled up to my mind and told me his statements were absolutely true. I could not believe this little man beside me could even begin to dream that he could find a weakness in me, but the fact that I had gone limp like a wet noodle beside him only made it worse because it affirmed his words. Even though I didn't understand it at all, Walter Masters did have some kind of unknown power over me. I made no move to prove my strength to him; I merely sat there like a submissive puppy.
“You had the urge to show me your power just now, didn't you? You were hurt by my comment about weakness. But something deep inside told you I am right. You can't explain this feeling within you, but there is a desire fueling your actions now. It’s a desire that you've never fully felt before, but it has always existed. Not since childhood have you met anything or anyone that has this kind of impact on you, have you Royd?”
“No . . . No, sir.”
“Even the automatic need to add the word ‘sir’ to your response is an indication of this soon-to-be blossoming awareness inside you, Royd. You're responding to something very primitive, my friend. You are connecting with a part of you that has longed for release for quite some time, but there has never been anyone that could harness that inner desire. That is, there hasn't been anyone until now. Ah, here we are at the restaurant.”
I was so lost in what he was saying that I didn't realize the car had stopped and my door had been opened by the driver. I was trying desperately to make some sense out of Walter Masters’ comments. On a deep level I knew everything he said was true, but I simply could not understand it. Why did I have this need to say sir to him each time I responded? Why did he have this unimaginable power over me? And why in the hell did I find him so fucking irresistible? I forced myself to turn and get out of the car. My entire body could sense that the man was staring at me and smiling as he followed. I was snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed that we were in front of the most popular and most expensive French restaurant in town. I had only been here once for drinks, and that had been because Sean wanted to check it out. This place was even too high-end for Sean and Curtis, let alone me.
When we stepped into the restaurant the first thing I noticed was that there was no noise. The place was as quiet as a library. We were met by a tall young man that spoke to Mr. Masters in French. As they shook hands I took a moment to look around the large dark restaurant. I suddenly realized why it was so quiet, there was no on there. The entire place was empty. I turned to my date with a very puzzled face.
“I thought it would be nice if we had the place to ourselves.”
“You mean they opened it just for us?”
“No, I'm afraid not. I simply rented out the entire restaurant for the evening. I hope that’s okay. I wanted us to have some privacy. I also didn't want to share you with anyone.”
I'm sure I looked like some kind of country bumpkin with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide with surprise. This guy had, in less than twenty four hours, rented out one of the most expensive restaurants in town. That was so fucking incredible. It was also something extremely foreign to me.
“But what about the people that had reservations? What about all the wait staff?”
“Don't worry your pretty self, Royd. Everyone has been taken care of. Other patrons have either been given a lovely dinner at home or a free meal at another restaurant and the staff has been taken care of in a very profitable way. We'll have my favorite waiter, Francois, and Chef Martin has prepared a wonderful meal just for the two of us. Shall we?”
Walter Masters was holding out his hand in the direction of a table in the middle of the restaurant. If the place had been filled it would have been the perfect spot to see everything and to be seen. I felt like I was in some kind of romantic comedy film or a fairy tale. I noticed a very handsome man, I assumed was Francois, standing beside our table and he greeted us as we walked up. He pulled each of our chairs out for us as we sat down. He then unfolded our napkins and laid them in our laps. If he saw the outline of my hard cock bulging at my crotch he did nothing to show it. He poured us both a glass of champagne and then disappeared into the kitchen. It became very quiet and I simply stared at the perfectly set table that reflected the candlelight beautifully. Soft music was playing through the house speakers. I had never been on a more romantic date. Mr. Masters lifted his glass of champagne, so I did the same.
“Let’s drink to unleashing hidden desires, shall we?”
“Yes, sir. I'll drink to that.”
I brought my glass lightly against his and the crystal made a perfect ringing sound. We then sipped our champagne. I was no expert, but the way the drink went down so smoothly told me it was very nice champagne. Francois came out of the kitchen with a platter of mixed oysters. He and Mr. Masters spoke to each other in French and the only thing I understood was “merci,” which was said by both.
“I'm sure you know that oysters are supposed to be an aphrodisiac.”
“Yes, I did know that . . . sir.”
We sipped out champagne and ate a few oysters in silence. No one came to bother us. It became clear that Mr. Masters would let Francois know in some way when we were ready to move to the next part of our dinner. I felt myself feeling extremely comfortable with the man in front of me. We simply stared at each other and let the thrill of the evening surround us completely. Walter Masters smiled at me and then spoke sweetly and, yet, firmly.
“Why don't you take off your shirt, Royd.”
My hand put down the glass of champagne without me even thinking about it. I reached down to grab the shirt and pull it from my pants. Not until then did it fully register what I was doing. I hesitated, but then I noticed a stern look appear on Mr. Masters’ face. I didn't move for a few seconds. I started to speak, but the man across from me raised his hand and the motion silenced me.
“Give in to the desire, Royd. You know you want to please me. Having you shirtless at the table will make me very happy. I'm pretty sure it will also make Francois very happy. We are the only ones here. Why fight what you know is your destiny. I know you can feel it deep inside. Take your shirt off for me.”
My hands moved even as my brain screamed for me to stop. I pulled the shirttail from my pants and then struggled as I tried to pull the tight shirt off of my upper body. It was usually difficult to get this particular shirt up over my big chest, large arms, and massive shoulders, but today it seemed almost impossible. Mr. Masters noticed that the shirt had become stuck halfway off of my huge upper body. He called out to the kitchen.
“Francois, could you assist us please?”
In only a few seconds I suddenly felt two hands tugging at the bottom of the shirt that was tightly wrapped around my raised arms. It took a little maneuvering for Francois to pull the stretched fabric over my bulging triceps. Once the shirt was off I reached up to smooth down my tussled hair. I avoided looking at Mr. Masters by watching Francois neatly fold the shirt and place it on a neighboring table. I also saw the waiter take many lustful glances at my muscled body. Mr. Masters was right, the man serving us tonight was happy that I was now shirtless. Francois lingered at our table for a bit more by pouring us more champagne and asking my date a question. I'm sure he wanted to know if there was anything more he could do for us. Walter Masters answered in French and the waiter reluctantly walked away, stealing glances back at my chest and arms as he made his way to the kitchen. Once he was gone there was nothing more for me to do than take a big gulp of champagne and then look at Mr. Masters. The man had a very sly smile across his face. He looked me straight in the eyes. He did not, as most men did, stare at my body.
“See, that wasn't so hard, now, was it Royd? You are one beautiful man. No, to be more specific, you are one beautiful massive man.”
My entire upper body flushed warm with embarrassment. I'm sure my meg pecs even turned red. I quickly took another sip of champagne. I desperately wanted to look away from the man across the table, but something in his gaze made me keep my eyes locked on his. I think a combination of the champagne going to my head and the taste of the wonderful oysters made me quickly return to my earlier calm state. I became comfortable again with my surroundings, in spite of being half naked.
“Tell me about becoming big, Royd.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Tell me what it was like to grow so massive. When did it happen? How did it feel? What are the benefits of being so huge? Are there any drawbacks? Tell me a little about your life. Can you see that I'm avoiding all those ‘first date’ questions that are so boring? I figured I'd move quickly to the stuff that is really good.”
I stared at the object of my affection and searched for words to answer his questions. I had never been asked most of these particular questions before. Most guys wanted to know things like my measurements, was I a bottom or a top, how much I could lift, and stuff like that. Here was a man that wanted to know more about my past and my feelings about being big. I was filled with a deep need to find answers that would please the man in front of me. I watched as Mr. Masters took a sip of his champagne and waited patiently for me to organize my thoughts.
“I, um, I . . . I mean I've kind of been big since junior high school. I sprouted up to six feet in eighth grade. It was . . . it was really awkward at first and I was really clumsy. But that all changed when I started working out with a coach in ninth grade. I was the only freshman in the history of my school to start on the wrestling team, the football team and the basketball team. Coach Simmons was really kind to me. I became like a pet project of his. I think he was astounded by how well my body responded to working out with weights. He always looked shocked when I would increase in size or hit new amounts of weight when lifting. Somewhere at the beginning of my sophomore year I passed him up in size and strength. I didn't really like the sports, but I really loved lifting weights. I guess it was then that I started dreaming about being a bodybuilder.”
“What was Coach Simmons like, Royd? Did you like him?”
“Yes sir, I did. Man, though, he was tough. He never let up on me when we would work out together; always pushing me beyond what I thought were my limits. But, yeah . . . yeah, I liked him a lot. It was good to have someone directing me in my training. I followed his plans for me completely and devoutly. Unfortunately, he was killed in a car crash my junior year of high school. A drunk driver hit him head on. It was one of the saddest things that ever happened to me. I didn't work out for a few months because I missed him so much, but then I remembered it was his dream that I would enter and win some local bodybuilding contests. I went back to working out like a fiend and put on about seventy-five pounds of muscle that year. By the time I got to college I was winning every competition I entered. I also started doing Strongmen Contests on the side because it was great showing off my strength. I basically won all of those, as well.”
“I think Coach Simmons would have been very proud of you, Royd.”
“Yes sir . . . yes sir, I think he would have been.”
Francois appeared at that moment with our salads. I had no idea how he knew we were ready for dinner, but his timing was perfect. Again, he and Mr. Masters spoke in French and a red wine was poured into the glasses before us. I was feeling a little tipsy and quite bold, caused I'm sure by the way Mr. Masters continued to smile at me - like I was really pleasing him. I lifted my wine glass making it clear I would like to make a toast. Masters raised his glass, as well.
“Here’s to the men in my life that I've made proud.”
The beautiful smiling man across from me brought his glass to mine and then we both tasted the wine. It was full and robust, with a taste that seemed to compliment the evening. It was at that moment that I knew I would allow myself to get drunk. I made the decision to enjoy the evening completely. I knew I was in safe hands with Mr. Masters. We took a few bites of the delicious salad in silence and then the conversation began again, moving in a new direction.
“Do you hope to make me proud, Royd?”
The question caught me off guard, but felt comfortable at the same time. I knew deep down that Mr. Masters was already aware of my answer. This was just a way to move to a new plateau in our relationship. I answered honestly and calmly.
“I have never wanted to please someone so much, sir. I don't understand where this desire comes from or what it means, but making you proud seems like the most important thing in my life at this moment.”
“That’s very good Royd. I was hoping you would feel this way. You have already made me very happy by being so willing to let me lead you this evening. It’s a new feeling for you, isn't it? You're not used to someone else being in charge.”
“No sir. I don't think anyone has made me feel this way since Coach Simmons. I've always been so much bigger and stronger than everyone else that no one has ever intimidated me. I can't understand why I feel this way around you. I mean, I hope this doesn't offend you, but I'm more than twice the size of you and, yet, you can make me start shaking just from the sound of your voice. I'm so confused, but at the same time it all feels so right and comfortable.”
“It’s really quite simple Royd. You just instinctively connect with something about me that makes you feel this way. Call it an animalistic sixth sense or whatever, but you feel this way for a specific reason, I promise. I've met many people that connect with me this way, but no one has ever felt it as strongly as you. I noticed it immediately last night, even before we were introduced. It was apparent to both of us the minute you stepped onto that patio last night, wasn't it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Would you like me to help you understand the indescribable desire you feel inside your body? Shall we clear up the mystery once and for all, my friend?”
“Please, sir.”
I watched as Mr. Masters looked around the restaurant. I didn't know what he was looking for, but I finally figured out he was checking out pieces of furniture. Something he saw made him smile and then he turned to me.
“Let’s leave our meal for a minute or two, Royd. Follow me to the bar over there.”
Walter Masters placed his napkin on the table, pushed his chair back, stood up, and then started walking to the large wooden bar on the other side of the room. He didn't look in my direction because he knew I would follow like a small child following his parent closely because he is afraid he might miss something. As I moved toward the bar it registered again that I was shirtless. I had been so engrossed in our conversation and was feeling so comfortable that I had forgotten. The cool breeze in the room and my excitement over what was to come made my nipples as hard as my aching cock. The small man in front of me moved to the corner of the heavy wooden bar. He moved around the edge and turned to look at me. He broke into a large smile as he faced me.
“You really are one gorgeous massive man, Mr. Roided. I am very impressed with your size and definition. That chest is amazing and your arms are unbelievable. You have worked your muscles to perfection, young man. I love gazing at you.”
I became embarrassed again, as if I were some shy adolescent boy that had just been praised by his idol. It was the first time that I noticed Mr. Masters actually look at my body. I could see a deep lust in his eyes, but there was something else mixed up in his gaze. I could not figure out what it was, but it felt a little like he anticipated surprising me in some way. The man actually looked like he was about to reveal a deep dark secret. This all made me very excited and very horny.
“Promise me that no matter what happens you will not let it ruin our lovely evening. No matter what happens, okay Royd.”
“I promise, sir. I don't understand, but I promise.”
“Very well then, let’s proceed.”
Mr. Masters unbuttoned the cuff of his right sleeve and slowly folded it up his forearm. I looked at his small wrist and lower arm, surprised by the fact that it looked very sexy and fairly muscled. It occurred to me that my date might actually have a pretty tight body underneath his clothes. This thought made my cock twitch a few times. Walter Masters then brought his arm up to the bar, bending it at the elbow and placing it on the solid wooden surface.
“Let’s arm wrestle, Royd.”
I looked at the smaller man in front of me and laughed out loud. This was the craziest thing I had ever heard. Sure he had lots of money and he was famous, but the guy was barely one hundred and fifty pounds. I easily outweighed him by his weight. The man was insane if he thought this would even be a slight contest. I could lift four or five of him put together. I bet the guy could barely bench press his own weight. I glanced down at his arm and actually got nervous that I would snap it in two if we even thumb wrestled. My forearm was double the size of his upper arm. My hand would almost wrap around his twice.
“You've got to be kidding, sir. I realize you like to be in control and everything, but this will be no contest at all. Why don't we just return to our nice salad and that great wine? I don't want to ruin the evening by embarrassing you or, worse, hurting you.”
“Now, Mr. Roided.”
I raised my arm quickly as if in a natural response to his order. I couldn't believe his voice could still have that kind of power over me after his crazy challenge. I had to step back from the bar and bend my arm out more because my palm was so much higher than his. I grabbed his palm in mine and chuckled again when I noticed how puny his hand felt.
“This is fine sir, but I don't want it to ruin your evening either. Promise me that you'll be fine with whatever happens. I'll do my best not to hurt you, but I'm pretty competitive. Maybe I should let you use both of your arms or I could just use a few fingers. Promise me that you'll still enjoy the evening after this.”
“Don't worry Royd, I'll be fine. Ready, set, go!”
Suddenly his hand felt like some kind of super vice-grip on mine. I actually let out a little cry as he squeezed my palm. I had intended to just hold his hand in place for a while to taunt him, but I quickly realized that he actually had a little power so I decided to just slam his hand down to the surface of the bar so we could get back to our meal. I began to apply pressure against his palm intending to push it down. To my surprise his hand didn't budge at all. I gripped harder and pushed more intensely. My biceps bulged upward beautifully from the exertion. I was feeling very cocky and knew that I would swiftly put Mr. Masters in his place. I pushed harder against his palm and nothing happened. I was not moving the small man’s arm in the least. I immediately put all of my strength into the task, knowing that there wasn't a man around that could resist my full force. Veins were streaking across my forearm and biceps. Beads of sweat were appearing on my chest and forehead. I was using all of my arm’s power and the thin arm against mine didn't budge even a fraction of an inch. Two thoughts ran through my mind at the same time. At first I figured there must be some kind of trick to his inhuman opposition to my strength. I tried to figure out how he might have braced his body in some way that I had not noticed. The second thought, however, was intense and caused a reaction I could not have anticipated. I suddenly focused on the fact that Mr. Masters was somehow stronger than anything I could have imagined. Just the thought of his power made my cock pulse harder than ever in my entire life. My knees wobbled a little from the exhaustion of losing to this man’s weak looking arm and because all the blood in my body was rushing to my hard dick. I glanced from our arms to the face of my tormentor. Walter Masters had a big smile across his face and, to my shock, was not straining at all. The guy’s body was as relaxed as ever. This was fucking impossible. This scrawny gorgeous man was overpowering me with as much energy as it takes to lift a piece of paper. Seeing him so calm caused me to become crazy with a desire to win. I grabbed the edge of the bar with my other hand to get more leverage. I tried to double the strength I was already using, but the small hand in mine stayed in place. I squeezed my hand harder thinking I might crush his hand a little to make him lose some ground. He didn't seem to feel my powerful grip at all. As a matter of fact he tightened his own hand more and I felt pain shoot up my arm. I cried out again from the unbelievable pressure of his fingers. But the most insane reaction was happening in my pants. My cock was beginning to spurt gobs of pre-cum as I got off on this man’s dominance of me. I couldn't believe it when Masters spoke because his voice was so natural and calm. I was breathing heavily as I struggled against the man, but he acted like he was just standing there doing nothing.
“You are very surprised aren't you, Royd? You thought you could beat me easily. You even thought you might crush my hand a little just to show off your strength and, yet, here I am causing you pain just by squeezing my small fingers. You know deep inside that I haven't even begun to really tighten my grip. You are starting to get a little scared that I might break some of your fingers just by compressing my hand a little harder. But the best part of this little moment is that I'm absolutely sure your cock is harder right now than it has ever been in your entire life. This moment is even better than the first time you figured out how to ejaculate as an adolescent. I bet your body feels like it is about to explode like some kind of super bomb just from the pressure that is building in your aching rod. You find my fucking power so unbelievably hot that you wish we could stay locked in this uneven strength match as long as possible. This is like mind-blowing foreplay for you. You've never known what it feels like to be dominated before. You've always been the guy in control and now a man you thought was just a little wimp is showing you what a true immovable force feels like. You suggested earlier that I might use both of my arms against you. Well, I think that I should give you the same opportunity to gain a little ground in our competition, but you know deep inside that using two arms isn't going to help you at all. My hand isn't going to move until I allow it to and that’s going to be when I force both of your arms down to the top of this bar. And here’s the best part, Royd, you're going to shoot the biggest load of your sweet man juice ever when I beat you. You are so fucking turned on right now that it is hard for you to focus on anything else other than your raging hard-on. Go ahead Royd and use both arms. Let’s see if having most of your three hundred pounds behind your grip is going to make a difference.”
The cocky little man holding my monstrous arm in place as if I were a small child was beginning to piss me off, but he was also turning me on more than anything I could ever remember. I let go of the bar and placed my other hand on top of our seemingly frozen strength battle. I poured every ounce of power my body could still give into my two bent gigantic arms that rested against his straight as a board wrist. It was as if I were pushing against a mountain. My added pressure did not cause our arms to move at all. Mine was a body that could probably bust through steel doors if I wanted to, but here I was helpless against Walter Masters’ one thin arm. I began to grunt from the strain of trying to make his wrist bend even a little and from the mounting force in my engorged cock. I could feel my entire body beginning to weaken from my losing battle. The sounds coming from my mouth must have been a sign for Mr. Masters. He began to slowly squeeze my hand harder and, at the same time, push it toward the surface below. The cocky asshole, who continued to excite me beyond belief, forced my arms down at what seemed like a snails pace, just to mess with my mind. I started to scream out from a mixture of pain and a last ditch effort to hopefully show off some strength. It was useless, though. A man that was less than half my size was manipulating me easily. My two almost-thirty-one-inch mega guns were being beaten in an arm wrestling match by something that looked like a teenager’s tiny limb. But the truly mystifying part to all of this was the fact that I was getting closer to what I knew would be the most awesome ejaculation of my lifetime and I was in heaven. I never stopped using all of my muscle power to try and gain a little ground on Mr. Masters, but it didn't help. The man easily pushed my arms down towards the bar and stopped when we were a mere inch from the wood. I was straining with all of my might and sweating up a storm. The gorgeous bastard smiled at me, as he continued to toy with my body. I was having trouble focusing because of the different pains shooting through my body.
“And now, Mr. Roided, we finish this little exhibition. We end with two consecutive big bangs, if you will. One will be mental and one will be physical. The first is that you will now know fully what has been eating away at you since you met me last night. We will have unleashed the new you in a giant way. Secondly, you will finally get to release that load of juice that has been building inside you since before I arrived at your place this evening. You were rock hard just from thinking about me all afternoon, but now you will explode in ecstasy because you have been dominated by a power even stronger than your fucking huge muscles. You thought this day would never come, but now you're willing to spew your juice as a sign of your desire for and your submission to me. When I slam your hand down on this surface you will cum for your master. You will cum as if it is the last time you will ever cum again.”
With that comment Walter Masters forced my hand down to the wood with a quick and powerful thrust. I registered absolutely no pain in my hand because at the same time my cock erupted like some kind of semen filled super volcano. I fell to my knees from the force of my violent discharge. It felt like gallons of warm sticky cream were being released into my underwear through a fire hose. My entire body was rocked by the convulsions overpowering my stomach and crotch. Mr. Masters kept his vice like grip on my hand as I shook violently beside the bar. His hold on my hand seemed like the only thing keeping me from becoming unconscious. The strength of his hand around mine kept me grounded and allowed me to simply let go, enjoying the unbelievable pleasure coursing through my body. When my cock finally quit jerking in my pants and the ringing in my ears began to subside the small man around the corner of the bar let go of my hand. My arms dropped to my side as I continued to kneel on the floor trying to catch my breath. Mr. Masters walked around the bar and moved so he was standing beside me. He began to run his hand across my hanging head, as if he were patting a tired puppy. This physical expression from the man that had just overpowered my muscles so easily both comforted me and, at the same time, made me feel weak and small.
“That’s it, big man. Just rest and catch your breath. I'm sure you find it difficult to meet someone so much more powerful than you. You see, Royd, it’s my strength that you've been responding to since last evening. When you met me your subconscious sensed what you have now fully discovered. You were the big alpha dog that instinctively knew to surrender to a more dominant force, but it was such a new feeling for you that you couldn't figure it out. Right now your mind and body are catching up with your instincts. You are beginning to realize that the only thing you desire in this world is to please your master. You want to submit to me completely. You also know deep down that your obedience will be justly rewarded, don't you. You know your master will take care of you. You seek my approval as much as you seek to make yourself big and muscular. You're a good boy, Royd. You make your master very happy. Just think about all the ways that I can continue to show you how proud I am. And if you are a really good alpha dog, Jack, I might give you what you most desire. One day I might pound that beautiful muscled ass of yours. You'd like that, wouldn't you Jack? No need to answer right now, I know that’s what you desire the most. Now get up and go clean yourself off in the bathroom. Our main course will be served when you return. We're going to have a really nice evening now, my pet. Your master is going to make sure you're really happy and, in return, you'll please me very much. I'll be waiting at the table.”
7.30.2009
Royd Roided Gets A Leash - Part One
There is really no way to know in advance how our lives will turn out. You just finally look back one day and see the clear path that led to what you've become. I would have never guessed I would become a huge professional bodybuilder and that I would ultimately be the perfect example of what it means to be hen-pecked. Yes, that’s right, hen-pecked, pussy-whipped, a boy-toy, or whatever you choose to call a man that no longer makes any of his own decisions. Now, before you go feeling sorry for me, please understand that I truly enjoy what my life has become – I really do. It’s just a shock to think that a guy that’s five feet eight inches tall and weighs over three hundred pounds would want to do nothing more each day than please a man that stands five feet five inches and weighs, even when he’s sopping wet, barely one hundred and fifty pounds. And, yet, that’s exactly what my life has become. I guess I should do some explaining.
It all began the day my voice dropped a few octaves and my head shot upwards by about a foot. It was sometime in the middle of eighth grade. Looking back, it feels like I went to bed one night - just a scrawny kid with a high-pitched voice and then woke up the next day - a towering muscle head with a voice like a tuba. I kid you not. I got huge in just a few months. I saw the high school coach’s mouth actually begin to water when he saw me on a scouting visit to our school. He was recruiting eighth graders that might be good for any of his teams the next year. That day he signed me up for football, wrestling, and basketball. All of them sounded good to me, but what excited me the most was the fact that he said he would teach me how to build up my body even more by lifting weights.
You see, by this time, I knew I was gay – well, I knew I was different, anyway. I had already shoplifted a few bodybuilding magazines from the local drugstore so I could whack off while I looked at what I thought, at the time, were huge guys. Little did I know that in just twelve more years I would be bigger than any of the guys that I beat off to. But that’s exactly what happened; I lifted weights in high school and college to become something just shy of monstrous. My mom still shakes her head sometimes when she looks at me; she thinks no man should be so big. I can tell, though, that she’s actually very proud of me and a little turned on. My dad doesn't even begin to hide his awe of my size. Each time I visit them, wait, no, each time I am allowed to visit them, my dad schemes up crazy things that will make me have to show off my strength. Like the time he hid his car jack just so I'd have to lift the back of his Cadillac as he changed a tire. I was pretty sure he even punctured the tire himself, but I couldn't prove it. I also knew he had Triple A, but I really liked to show off for him. Making my dad proud made me feel good – which, I'm sure plays into what happened to me later, as well.
Anyway, by the time I was out of college I was winning local bodybuilding contests and was also doing very well on the regional Strongest Man circuit. Because of my training schedule and my fear of what people might say, I had done very little as far as living out my homosexual tendencies. I had a few girlfriends, but nothing serious. Quite a few guys, however, did come up to me after contests and offer me money for an evening of muscle worship or just some posing, but none of those seemed to interest me. I knew, deep inside, I was waiting for something more, and I knew it whatever it was it was going to be intense, but I just didn't know what it would be.
I eventually settled down to a job managing one of the best gyms in a city that was about two hours away from home. It was a perfect job for me – I got to mix my business degree with my love for pumping iron. I quickly became aware of a group of gay men in the area that were what you might call the “A” crowd. These were guys that made a crap load of money and tended to only hang out with gay men just like them. Well, anyway, the size of my muscles seemed to make up for the fact that I wasn't rich, and I began to be invited to elite dinner parties around town. Two of my favorite members of the gym were Curtis and Sean. They took me on as a close friend and began to invite me to their place, often. Curtis owned some major international marketing firm and Sean was some kind of high-end lawyer. I never have understood exactly what kind of law he is involved with.
One day, when I was giving Sean some pointers on how to increase the benefits of biceps curls, he asked if I was free for a small dinner party that evening. He knew it was short notice, but one of the guests had backed out that morning and it was going to throw the table balance off. I knew that Sean saying the dinner party was going to be small usually meant it would actually be about twelve to sixteen people. As it happened, I was completely free and thought it would be great to spend an evening at their fantastic house and have a nice meal. Sean told me the only downside was that the meal was formal. I'd need to wear a tux. I told him that was no problem, having had one made for myself about six months before because I got so tired of shops freaking out about my size when I came in to rent one. I could tell my yes would make Sean’s large dining table have equal numbers on both sides and how much this pleased him. He gave me the details and encouraged me not to be late. He then told me the reason for the dinner party and my desire to go increased. It seemed that he and Curtis were giving a party for a friend that was visiting. When Sean mentioned the guest’s name I recognized it immediately, because Walter Masters was one of the biggest independent film directors in the world. I knew his incredible work – having seen all of his “art-house” films over and over. He was what you'd call a director’s director. He was respected by everyone in the business, mainly because he had never sold out by making big-budget crap. He only made films he personally loved and that usually meant they were a reflection him. He had won two Academy Awards and countless other honors in his career. Everyone knew Walter Masters was gay, but everyone also knew that he was somewhat of a recluse and you rarely heard anything about him. I was even more excited about the party now that I knew I would meet the famous Walter Masters.
For some reason I got really nervous as I began to get ready for the dinner party that evening. I was acting like some young school girl getting to meet the boy-band heartthrob of her dreams for the first time. As I arrived at Curtis and Sean’s gated mansion I began to sweat a little in my tux – just from the anticipation of being at a party with Mr. Masters. I was ushered to the expansive back yard of the house where, just as I thought, about sixteen men in various styles of tuxedos were drinking, eating appetizers, and trying not to be obvious in their desire to speak to Walter Masters. It was clear that I was the last guest to arrive; the vultures had all come early in hopes of getting some kind of lead on being near the guest of honor.
Now I know what I share with you next will sound very cheesy and stupid, but I can only tell you the truth. When I first gazed at Walter Masters, standing there in a simple tux and running his hand through his thick, curly dark hair, I fell in love. I am not joking. I fell fast and hard. I had seen pictures of the guy for years and I thought I knew what he'd look like in person, but I had been wrong. Most of my adult life I had been surrounded by much better looking men, but no one from my past came close to affecting me the way this guy did. I don't exactly know what made me so attracted to him – was it his looks, was it his incredible talent, was it his money, or was it something I couldn't explain. I would only learn the answer to that question a few months later – when I was finally open and ready to fulfill my destiny. At that time all I knew was that Walter Masters made my more-than-ample cock shoot achingly hard just by gazing at him. Thank goodness black tux pants tend to hide most everything. I also pulled the jacket closed in hopes that I would cover part of the thick, tense log snaking down my muscled thigh.
Let me give you a little more information to digest about Mr. Masters. He had a wide and gracious smile that seemed to jump at the slightest chance to beam across his face. I was mesmerized by his laughter from across the huge patio of our hosts’ home. It was infectious and full – as if everything he laughed at was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Forget what people mean when they say someone’s eyes sparkle – his gaze felt like a fucking fireworks show and he tended to focus on people in a way that made them feel both engaged and self-conscious. It was as if he was reading your mind and, yet, didn't judge what he found there, even the slightest. When you first looked at the guy he was short and kind of scrawny, but then, as you stood near him and listened to him, you could see that his personality more than made up for his smallness. Even out on a large patio the guy seemed to “fill the room” with his presence. He didn't have a gorgeous face, but he was handsome in that confident-as-hell sort of way.
I had not realized that I had stopped moving as soon as I laid eyes on Walter Masters. The only thing that brought me out of my engrossed staring was Sean’s hand grabbing my arm and leading me towards the small group of men across the patio as he spoke.
“Hello stud. He’s amazing isn't he?”
I didn't know what Sean was talking about at first, but when I looked down at his face I could see that he, too, was staring at Walter Masters and smiling broadly. I was taken aback by his frankness and my face turned a little red. I didn't really think about my answer and I just said what was on my mind.
“He’s incredible.”
“And you haven't even spoken to him. I swear he can make your dick leak pre-cum just by saying hello.”
Sean laughed out loud and I did, too, as we joined the group of men standing around the object of our awe. There seemed to be a natural lull in the conversation so Sean took advantage of the moment.
“Gentlemen, most of you know our trainer, Royd Roided, but I'd like to introduce him to the guest of honor. Walter Masters, this is Royd.”
“Hello Mr. Masters. It is a pleasure to meet you.” I stuck out my big hand and spoke quickly – making a complete ass of myself. That’s the kind of reaction this man evoked from me.
To show what a gentleman Walter Masters truly is, he did nothing to acknowledge or draw attention to my weird behavior. He simply stared at me with his emerald eyes, smiled broadly, and grabbed my hand in the same quick manner as I had done.
“Hello, Mr. Roided, the pleasure is all mine. Please call me Walter. May I call you Royd?”
“Of course, sir.”
I was fumbling for words and quickly spouted my response, not fully sure why I added the word “sir.” This made the group around me laugh a little, but they took the lead from Walter Masters and he was still holding my hand while he stared at me. My body turned to jelly and I got a little dizzy. The combination of the man’s grip on my hand, his invigorating smile, and his soul-piercing eyes made me weaker than I had ever felt in my entire life. It was a feeling that I was not used to and it was quite obvious that Mr. Masters sensed what his presence caused in me. I could tell he was partly continuing to hold my hand to give my body a little support, but then I also noticed he was using our connection to get some kind of read on me. I can't explain it, but I knew his hand touching mine enabled him to send and receive some kind of secret signal. I was not the same when we released our grips; I was now under a spell that tied me to the man in a way that could only be described as magical. I also noticed that, whether because of my temporary weakness or something else, his handshake was extremely powerful. It didn't really register until I felt my hand slightly throbbing when I returned it to my side. Another amazing thing about Walter Masters’ greeting was that he never took his gaze from my face. Most guys I met either never looked at my face or landed there for mere seconds before moving to what was obviously their favorite part of a hugely muscled body. Mr. Masters continued to look me in the eyes through our entire exchange and then turned to look at whoever spoke next in the group. I, however, could not take my eyes off of the man in front of me and I shamelessly stood there gawking until I heard Sean invite everyone into the house.
I didn't budge from my place until Mr. Masters did. Don't ask me why I did this – it could have been that I was being polite to the guest of honor, but I sensed it was something else - something deeper and more intense that hospitality. I was not at a point, however, to fully understand and I simply followed this man as he led the group into the dining room of the wonderful house. I found it very hard to contain my surprise and my joy when I noticed that I was seated right beside the man of my sudden desires. It was even more exciting since Walter Masters was seated at the final chair on one side of the table, next to our host at the head and me on his other side. This meant that while Sean was talking to the guest on his other side or away from the table, Mr. Masters would find it easiest to turn my way and chat with me. It was still pretty uncomfortable in my crotch area because of my rock-hard cock, but, at least, I had the table to help cover it. My body seemed to be on fire from the heat caused from the close proximity to the man beside me. As we began the meal I found it very hard to think of something to say to this man that made me so weak at the knees. I began to panic that I would be silent the entire meal, but then Mr. Masters turned to me and spoke first.
“I hope you don't mind, Royd, I asked Sean to move me to this spot. I was originally going to be placed at the center of the table, but I thought I would like this seat much more.”
I was caught off guard by this revelation and didn't know how to respond, at first. I found myself just staring into the eyes of Mr. Masters with my mouth slightly open. I must have looked like a simpleton. I somehow gathered enough energy to answer him.
“I don't mind at all, Mr. Masters . . . I mean, Walter.”
The man laughed lightly at my small slip up and took a sip of his wine. He continued to look at me the entire time. I began to feel a little self-conscious. He turned back to his salad as he spoke.
“Why do you seem to have the need to be so formal, Royd?”
“Well, you are pretty famous.” I was being very honest and quick in responding – as if some force was making me answer his questions efficiently.
“Oh, is that it? I was hoping there might be more to it than that.”
I was, again, not prepared for that response. I had no idea what he meant by the comment, but something in his words triggered a part of me that had never been awakened. I sensed some thought or some desire being born in me, but I still had no clue as to what it might be. I believe he saw the seed of what was being planted in my eyes and he smiled in a way that was inviting and disturbing at the same time. He did not wait for me to respond.
“Well, maybe there is something more, which you have not felt before. Wouldn't that be interesting? My guess is that right now there is a feeling deep in your gut, Royd, which you can't explain. You are probably trying hard to sort through emotions that my presence causes within you. I'm sure it is as if you are repelled by me and drawn to me at the same time. You're becoming aware of a great need at your core that has never been exposed before. Maybe you're even becoming a little scared, huh Royd?”
I had no idea what voodoo magic this man was pulling on me or how he had hypnotized me, but his description nailed all that was going on in my head and body perfectly. Small drops of sweat had begun to gather on my back and across my forehead. My heart was thumping like it was being pounded by a bass drummer on acid. I felt a little queasy and worried that my food might be filled with some kind of mood altering chemicals. But the truly fucking strange thing was that I also felt like some hidden strength was being released inside me – or maybe it was some demonic power being unleashed. Whatever it was, scary and all, it was incredibly invigorating – pumping my blood and cock into overdrive. Again, Walter Masters did not wait for a response from me.
“It is okay, my huge friend. This moment has been enough. There is no need to find all of the answers right now. Just sit a while with that new feeling that has been uncovered. There will be plenty of time for exploring what it all means at a later date. For now, just relax and enjoy this lovely meal. I think we have some mountains to move later, Royd, but, for now, we'll settle for the small boulder that has been turned into pebbles. We, my friend, have a lot in common. How do you like the salad?”
A slight breeze would have caused my body to erupt in orgasm – that’s how charged this man’s words had left me. My mind could not begin to understand what was happening. It felt like and “out of body” experience, but the pressure in my cock assured me that I had not left my skin. Somehow, I found the strength to raise the fork in my hand to my mouth and take a bite of my salad. I could taste nothing, though, because my senses were too busy trying to prevent the hard stick of dynamite in my pants from exploding. I forced myself to turn from Walter Masters and stared at the plate in front of me.
“Steady on, Royd, steady on.”
Even the sound of his voice made my body quiver in excitement. I inhaled deeply through clenched teeth and held my breath for a few seconds. I had never been this “out of control” in my entire life. I was baffled, embarrassed, stunned and extremely excited all at the same time. I wanted to get up from the table and run from the room, but at the same time I wanted nothing in the world more than to be sitting beside Walter Masters. I was worried that my body would not be able to live with such intense feelings pulling me from both sides. And then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, everything stopped. My head stopped spinning, my heart stopped pounding, and my cock even began to subside. The sudden calmness scared me as much as the intense disorientation that had preceded it. I began to eat my salad calmly and I knew that Mr. Masters sensed the change in me.
“There, you see, it has passed. All is right with the world again. But be forewarned, Royd - when you remember this moment, and you will remember this moment, you will begin to slowly understand the calling that has begun within you. And please know that I'd like to be part of your response to that desire as it grows. This doesn't make sense right now, but it will someday. I just want you to, hopefully, think of me when you are awakened fully.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about or what just happened, but I'm pretty sure you were part of what caused it – so I think it would be safe to say that you'll be part of whatever benefits you think will come of it.”
As I said these words I knew how strange they sounded, but I also knew that my body, not to mention my mind, had become somehow intricately connected to this man. I also knew that the path to self discovery, which I seemed to be starting, began with him and would ultimately lead to him.
The rest of the evening passed without any more sexual eruptions in my body. Sean dominated Mr. Masters’ attention for most of the meal, but I could tell that the object of my lust was still very conscious of the effect he continued to have on me. When we moved back onto the porch to have some after-dinner drinks, I was disappointed that Mr. Masters seemed to be ignoring me. He was caught up in a conversation with a gentleman I barely knew, but I could tell, by the way they were talking, the conversation had to do with some kind of high finance. I finally decided it was time for me to leave, and I said my farewells to our hosts and left – a little sad that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Mr. Masters. As I was walking down the huge staircase from the front door of the house I heard a voice call out to me.
“I can't believe you would leave without saying goodbye.”
I recognized the voice without turning around. I could hear his footsteps as Walter Masters descended the stairs to where I was standing. I turned around to find him right behind me – his closeness caught me off guard and I stumbled back a little.
“Careful, big guy. We wouldn't want anything to happen to that beautiful body, now would we?”
I was simultaneously embarrassed and flattered. I looked down at the ground, having moved into a genuinely shy mode.
“Ah, the big man is sometimes shy. How cute is that?”
I glanced up quickly, detecting something condescending about his comment. I couldn't believe it when my cock also sprang instantly hard at his words. There was something in the way he spoke to me – something that I still could not name – that made me both hard as a two-by-four and, at the same time, somewhat ashamed of myself. I was beginning to realize that I felt intimidation and a little fear when Walter Masters was around. I also had this growing urge to do whatever I could to make this man happy. I hadn't a fucking clue where all of this came from, but I felt it just the same. The freight train of awareness that was obviously coming gave no hint of what it might birth within me and, yet, I desperately wanted it to arrive soon.
“Like I was saying, Royd, I can't believe you would leave without saying anything to me. I distinctly got the feeling that you liked me – was I mistaken?”
I stared at the man, unable to form words. I knew my feelings had been pretty transparent and that he had somehow sensed my wild physical reaction to him as we talked at dinner, but hearing him say those words caused me to become embarrassed and somewhat disoriented. I fumbled so say something to answer his question.
“I, uh . . . I mean . . . I do really . . . what I mean is . . .”
“That’s fine, Royd. No need to speak. Be ready tomorrow night at seven and standing outside your place. I'll pick you up then. Please, don't keep me waiting. I'm not a man that likes to wait.”
“Yes sir.”
I answered immediately and with an obedient tone that shocked me. My response made Masters smile broadly. He didn't say another word. He simply turned around, not even acknowledging that our conversation was over, and walked back up the stairs into the house. I stood there dumbfounded. As soon as he was away from me the cloudiness in my head and the unexplained magnetic pull of Walter Masters seemed to lessen. I became coherent enough to analyze what had just happened. I had been invited out by the Walter Masters and I had said yes. This is not what held my attention the most, however. I focused on how this man could render me so completely useless with just his attitude and a few words. If you compared the two of us physically there would no contest. I could basically squash the guy with one hand – my arm being almost as big as his upper body. When I trained guys like him I could usually lift with one hand what they were bench pressing with their puny bodies and sometimes I could do it with just two fingers. But here was a guy that made me go weak at the knees and turn into some kind of ninety-pound weakling. Walter Masters was the guy on the beach kicking sand in my face and not the other way around. I tried to get a handle on what it was about him that created in me a desire to do whatever he said. The word that came closest to describing how I felt was “slave.” I had become this man’s bitch after just one meeting. If he had asked me to get down on my hands and knees to lick his shoes, I would have gladly done it – even in the middle of the dinner party.
I shook my head hard and started walking to my car again. What was I thinking? This is Royd Roided thinking this nonsense. I'm no one’s bitch. I'm fucking huge. I'm stronger than most men – even if you put a few of them together. I didn't need to answer to anyone – and hadn't for many years. I could probably throw Walter Masters farther than he could throw a baseball. I opened my car door and slid into the seat. After I shut the door I sat in silence for a few moments. I felt something dark bubbling up inside me as I emphasized, in my mind, how powerful and big I was. There was a desire growing slowly in the center of my gut. I was beginning to let something unknown to become even stronger than the awareness of my own strength and size – and it was becoming more influential the more I tried to ignore it. A flood of uncontrollable lust for Walter Masters shot through my body and many other things shot off at the same time.
First of all, my mind became completely aware of my insane need for Walter Masters’ approval. I wanted the man to like me, I wanted the man to use me in any way he desired, I wanted the man to take control of me completely, and I wanted the man to fuck me so hard that I wouldn't be able to walk for a few days. This final realization made my uncontrollable hard cock begins to spew inside of my underwear. I had not shot a load without help from my own palm, or someone else’s, since I was an adolescent. I also began to cry out like a wounded beast as my dick erupted. I knew that anyone within a hundred yards of my car would have been terrified by the sound and probably would have started running, but luckily no other person was around. No one saw or heard my instant descent into an orgasmic place of no return, where I fully understood that I was now connected to Walter Masters in a way that could not be explained or even described. The man had a power over me that seemed demonic and angelic at the same time. When my body stopped jerking and my screams of pleasure ceased, I instinctively glanced toward the house. There, in one of the front windows I saw the outline of my tormentor, my desire, my master. I knew, somehow, that he was fully aware of what had just happened in the car and in my pants. This frightened me a little, but also made me feel proud in some odd way. I started the car, turned on the lights, and began down the driveway. I was already counting the seconds to our rendezvous planned for the next evening.
7.29.2009
7.26.2009
I like have you wearing clothing that is made of fabric so thin that everyone can clearly see that you have a HUGE PA
I like have you wearing clothing that is made of fabric so thin that everyone can clearly see that you have a HUGE PA, like spandex pants, or see through fabric. You'll a freeballer, so your cock and balls bounce around. I would have your nips pierced with a thick gauge ring and wear thin or see through fabric shirts so everyone knows and can clearly see that you have a pierced nipple. You would have long shower in public venues like swimming pools, gyms naked, or wear see-through costumes, that clearly show that you are uncut and have a PA. At friend's pool parties I will have you go skinny dipping, or wander around naked. At night clubs I might let you have your dick hang out of your pants or let the guys that you are dancing with you, put their hands down your pants and fondle your arse or cock and balls. Well there are many places to show off what you have, so go out and show off and be proud of what you have!
I would love to show you off wherever possible, to show off your big tits, your inked hole and your big, inked and pierced cock. ! would love to fuck you senseless in public and put on a huge show for everyone walking by and I know you're a huge whore who likes getting fucked with everyone watching! I know you'll love to stand next to me in any unexpected place, drop your pants and show me your inked, open hole and your heavy, smelly cock, semi hard practically all the time. I know you're a total bareback, cumslut sexhibitionist. I totally dig watching, photographing, videotaping you. And I know you love to be passed around, gangbanged, tag-teamed, etc. Love to have you wear a ripped t-shirt, boots and a jock to bath houses and sex clubs. Start by having you sitting around with one leg up letting guys see you playing with your hole. Then I'll have you turn round, lean against the bar with your ass pushed out ready for anyone who wants to fuck it. Sometimes there's a line of fuckers moving from one hole to another. Know that you love getting fucked in front of everyone. Like to be surrounded by horny fuckers doing what comes naturally. Basically find it pays to advertise. Guys are in no doubt that it's your cunt that needs fucking! I also would like you to wander around naked at a bathhouse, having sex in the public areas of the bathhouse or in a cubicle/room but leaving the door wide open.
showing off your big, prolasped rosebud
I know you like showing off your big, prolasped rosebud which I think looks sexy as it hangs out about 3" by 4" with many folds of skin, I like when you spread your hole and just put on a show by yourself, laying there watching guys taking an interest in what you're doing. But my favorite place to show off your big hole is in the gym showers with all the str8 guys around. because you now when you are in the shower and you bend over they look. so i purposely drop things to bend over exposing my loose hole to them.
Great pecs! And those nipples are obscene.
You get me off each time I check out your pics. Great pecs! And those nipples are obscene. Phenomenal nips, would love to work them, a pec man's dream - huge fuckn tits! I will keep pumping and enlarging your nipples for you and for everyone like me who love men with huge freaky nipples. I expect when they reach the size I want them I will still not quit but take you over the edge. I would have so much fun watching your progress and helping you make them grow Very nice pumped nipples, keep using the poppers, I love to see um big and hard and oiled up...WOOF!! Take off the pumps and give those big boys a hard workout. I wanna hear you moan. I also want to see how much those thick rings thru your knobs can take!
I also like our hairless body mindset!
I also like our hairless body mindset! In fact, I constantly think about our hairless "smooth-as-glass" bodies as I work and play. I get a hardon many times during the day as I think about our totally shaved bods, completely devoid of hair whatsoever! Just writing about it here makes me grab my dick and start squeezing it. And I love being hard.
I hope this is the absolute maximum you'll be wearing to the beach this year
I hope this is the absolute maximum you'll be wearing to the beach this year. I will have a hardon watching you strut around at the beach in such a spectacularly small suit with the smallest front pouch just barely large enough to contain you, and with your totally shaved cock’s outline obscenely visible! Would love to hook up with a mature nasty minded roided muscled manboy like you, for a marathon session of pumping and playing all oiled up in the hot Florida sun - bronzed and smooth, a day filled with oil, cum, piss and sweat! Oink!
vacpumped siliconed bulge, maxed out in your micros
Fuck boy! You got my gears fucking crankin' with those vacpumped siliconed bulge, maxed out in your micros! Don't know which is better : the suit - fucking HOT - or knowing that awesome cock and balls are squeezed into it? FUCKING PIG!! Want to see more of that ass and the fucking miniscule string stretched across what I am sure is one hot hairless HOLE boy!
My GH Story
In college, I found other guys like me. Big guys, into being bigger. Guys who shared my passion and my dedication. That was when I realized I wasn't a freak, some fucking oddity. I wasn't alone in wanting to be a bodybuilder. I learned a lot in that time -- when they saw how easily I grew, how focused I was, how driven, they accepted me like a brother. They showed me that bodybuilding was a sport. And for them, the sport lay in competition.
"Doing a show gives you a goal," they explained to me. "A reason to put yourself through all this."
I trusted them, so I entered a few shows, teenage events in those days, and won by sheer size and lack of competition. The guys taught me how to pose -- and how to shave, and tan -- all that vain shit. And hey, if you threw a boner while working on your posing, it was understandable. No big deal. Happened to everybody. There was nothing sexual in it. Getting off on your own body was normal, they said. It shows you're making improvements. And I was getting off on it. The bigger I got, the more I did. So when the guys suggested I start the juice, I knew that blast of power was going to be better than anything I'd ever felt. I willingly agreed. But I couldn't even begin to imagine. I took to Sustenon250 and Deca like a babe to milk. In the first two weeks, I blew up fifteen pounds. Eat, lift, and sleep. It's all I did that winter -- I went to the occasional class, too, but come on, I was a phys ed major -- all I did was lift and grow. I also said goodbye to my abs -- that hurt.
"They'll come back," the guys said, who were all in the same condition themselves, all bloated and fat with juice. "You gotta put on the mass in the winter to get lean in the summer. They'll come back." I trusted them.
And I'm glad I did. It felt so good, getting stronger, becoming aware of my self-power. And by self-power I mean, all I wanted to do was fuck! I wanted to fuck everything! I was jacking off like five, six times a day. It wasn't even sex that I wanted -- I just needed to get off. It wasn't worth the hassle of men -- picking some guy up, flattering him, dealing with his needs, and Jesus -- afterward! Who needs that shit? It was easier to just beat off. Besides, a lot of times I was jacking when I was supposed to be posing, looking at myself in the mirror -- twenty years old, my young face bloated out until I was a chipmunk, weighing in at two-hundred forty-five pounds, when just ten weeks ago, I was two-oh-five, my rounded abs pushing down on my waistband. I looked at myself, and instead of horror at the fat-ass I was becoming, I saw power. And I felt power. And I'd flex. I'd marvel at my new size. I'd get hard, and I'd jack while I looked at myself. There'd be times when I did it with one or two of my buddies, too. Hey, we were lifting together, giving each other shots, our bodies are fuckin' pumped and masculine and hot, we're like the ultimate example of what a guy should be -- all the other guys were lookin' at us and jealous and shit -- how could we NOT get turned on by that? It wasn't like we were homos -- we didn't kiss and shit -- it was about power. And dominance. And need. It was a game -- we made it into a game -- in order to justify it and be able to talk about it, it had to resemble sports -- first guy to cum was the loser -- so it became about doin' whatever we had to do to win. Anything to make the other guy cum first. That's where I learned how cool it was to have some guy get off on me -- that feeling of dominance. We discovered together how many guys there were in the world willing to PAY for that priviledge, too. Hey, juice is expensive, you know? And there's nothing wrong with having a sponsor. Some old guys wants to beat off watching me pose and he's willing to buy my supps for the chance? Fine by me. What color trunks should I wear? That's how I got through college. No shame in that, dude. I got some pictures took, and that's when it really hit home how hot I was. How much I love to pose and show off. And those little fuckin' posers and swimsuits were so fuckin' hot on me. I was the body they were designed for, after all, and the more I flaunted it, the more I received -- money, offers, all of it. It would've overwhelmed me, but for the extra energy I got from the juice. The ability to recuperate quickly. I could've stayed at that level and ridden that wave for a long time -- hell, I'm barely twenty-five -- wait till my muscle matures -- shit, I have another fifteen years before I peak -- but the bigger I got, the bigger I wanted to be. I mean, I liked it. It looked great. It felt great. I realized then that I wanted to be a monster, one of those fuckin' freaks on the Olympia stage -- bigger than that. I never wanted to be a pretty boy -- although I sure did use it -- I wanted to be the biggest man alive. That may not have been what I dreamed of when I was a kid, but that's what I could achieve as a man.
So I started doin' GH, which is different than the other stuff I was on -- the sust and the deca and the tons of winstrol-V -- 'cuz it's an actual hormone, normally secreted by the pituitary gland -- causes muscle growth, raises the metabolism to burn bodyfat, increases bone density -- and unlike steroids, the effects of GH are permanent, actual gain is actual gain. It's serious -- and expensive. I happen to work with a sports medicine Doc -- a trainer for a team I shouldn't mention -- because GH isn't something you fuck around with. He'd offered his services to me last year, and he's the only guy -- other than my old college buddies -- who's allowed to touch me while he gets off. Hey, the guy's taken me successfully through three good test cycles, thirty pounds of muscle, and he knows his shit about GH -- I think he looks at me like a project, some little forbidden fantasy, some Dr. Frankenstein fetish -- whatever. If the cost of my growth is some dude feelin' up my legs, kneeling before me and worshipping me like a muscle god, suckin' on my cock without any expectation from me, so be it. Shit, I'm not a fuckin' idiot. Lift, and eat, and rest -- like I've never done that before. Six meals a day -- at least one red meat -- shitloads of chicken and tuna -- my weight in grams of protein daily -- time to eat. Time to lift. Cock reminds me that it's time to jack. About two weeks into the cycle, I notice the first real changes. I notice a gain in size, a fullness I didn't have before, a round-ness to my muscle. I cover myself in baggy sweatshirts and the loosest and largest of t-shirts, baggy gym pants -- trying to cover like I'm a work of art, a sculpture not ready to unveil, yet. I don't need to advertise what I'm doing. Better if everybody thinks I'm just fat with winter. My bulk cycle. Like all the big boys. Besides, baggy clothes make me look bigger. Spandex is for summer. So the only time I ever really look at myself naked is right before or after a shower. The heaviest I ever was, right after college, was two forty-seven. I wanted to break two-fifty on that cycle -- just to say I did it -- but it was a barrier I just couldn't break. Sucked. Pissed me off. Well, this morning I weigh in cold at two fifty-two -- three weeks into the cycle -- I'm due for my fourth hit today -- and I look at myself naked in the bathroom mirror, bulked out, bigger than I've ever been in my life, and I notice that my jaw is changing shape. Just a little bit. It's heavier. Swear to God. It's heavier. It's that change, not the size of my muscle, or the swell of my stomach, or the weight of my legs, it's my fuckin' JAW that gets me hard. It makes me look -- I don't know -- more masculine -- more powerful. They say Growth fucks with your chin, and gives you that caveman brow -- is my forehead becoming bigger? I can't tell. Maybe heavier down toward the eyes. I don't know. But I look different. The same. But different. I'm still me, but I'm bigger. I wish I could describe what that feels like. I beat off right there in the bathroom mirror, clenching my jaw, trying to make it wider, flexing it. I'm swelling like a tick with blood. My traps bunch on either side of my neck, my thick neck, and I cum when I throw my head back and roar, spattering the mirror with my juice. Flat-handing it off the surface, I impulsively wipe my cum across the mass of my chest, smearing it all over my torso -- massaging the mass of MY muscle -- until I'm shiny from it, and I begin to pose in earnest. I am huge. And I am hot. When I finally hook up with the doc, I've jacked three times, and it's fuckin' nine o'clock in the morning -- and I'm ready to go again. I'm wearing a thong under my baggies because it'll give the doc a clear shot at my glutes without me having to be naked -- and okay, because it looks so fuckin' GOOD on me, and maybe even because I like the way I feel when I wear it, whatever. It'll drive the doc crazy, and that alone is worth it. Imagine the size of my legs, my big horse-muscled ass, my heavy hamstrings. Imagine my impressive package barely held in this red-silk thong, my cock chubby from being a tease, plumped out there in front. Try to see my distended abs and the very bottom of my massive pecs, when I hold my shirt up high enough to just barely expose the nipples, while the doc pulls down my baggies and gasps at the real sight. "Holy shit," he says, in his most professional medical analysis. "You're getting huge!"
I nod. "Six weeks to go," I say.
He wipes my ass with the alcohol swab, cool as it evaporates, and I feel the needle plunge into me. My growing erection seems to time perfectly with the depression of the hypodermic, like the Growth was filling my cock, inflating me. "Very impressive growth," he says, watching.
"Come get your reward, doc," I say, not resisting the urge to flex.
He removes the now-empty syringe, and kneels before me, leaning forward to gently kiss the silk. "Perfection," he whispers, pulling my thong down enough to expose my cock, which rolls forward to greet him.
"Six weeks to perfection, doc," I say, grabbing his head, pushing him into my dick, which he happily takes in his mouth. "You're gonna get me even bigger."
I put on another fifteen pounds during the next six weeks. And I was losing fat too, so I really gained more lean beef than that. I spent every spare minute in front of the mirror, watching myself morph into a total muscle freak. Every day I looked rounder and harder at the same time. Striations began to appear where I'd never seen them. And the veins! When I hit a crabshot they burst out all over my pecs and delts; by the end, even my traps had crazy vascularity. It even seemed like my dick was bigger; as the fat disappeared from around the base of it, it stuck out even more outrageously from my pelvis. And since I was constantly horny, it really showed. The doc was keeping me super-jacked on roids in order to maximize the benefits of the GH, so my aggressiveness was off the scale. I had to be careful to not lose it over stupid shit, like if some asshole interrupted me, or some fag did the "Eeeuiw, yuck, muscles!" routine. I'd just glare at them till they shut the fuck up or got outta my way. My new face was really intimidating too. God, I fuckin' loved it! My jaw was getting heavier all the time; my chin jutted out like crazy. And my brow! As the fat vanished and my brow-ridge thickened, I was starting to look like a Goddamn ape-man, and that was all right with me! And my voice; it got deeper and more like a growl. It kinda sounded like I had been gargling gravel; real tough. I was so focused on my training, I just kept setting new personal bests. It seemed like anything I wanted to lift, I could, if I really dug deep for it. I was ripping up my muscles like never before, but I always recovered and rebuilt the tissue, so damn fast! My metabolism was cranking like a well-oiled machine. I was shoveling in food like a fuckin' disposal, and it just went straight into my muscles. I had decided to enter the state championship. I didn't tell anybody but Doc. I needed him there to monitor my condition and do any last minute fine-tuning with the drugs. Besides, I had a surprise in store for him, if I won. When I stripped down in the pump room before the pre-judging, it was so fuckin' obvious the trophy was mine, I almost laughed. I could hear the muttered reactions from the other guys:
"Motherfuck..." "Shee-it!" "Might as well go the fuck home now..."
And as I pumped, and the veins started to swell, they stopped even pretending not to stare. Of course I won the heavyweight class and the overall. But the real trip was just showing it all off. You can't fuckin' imagine what it's like standing almost naked in front of a crowd of screaming muscle-worshippers, struttin' your stuff, flexin' the beef, knowing you are THE MAN! I was boning-up right there onstage, and I didn't give a fuck. "Let 'em see it all, and suffer!" was my attitude. Back in my hotel room, I threw my trophy on the bed, stripped off my sweats and hit a front lat-spread.
"Oh, damn..." Doc breathed.
"See something you like, Doc?" I smirked.
"Incredible...just incredible."
"Then why aren't you on your knees, bitch?!"
Doc dropped to his knees . I strutted to the mirror and began to pose for myself.
“Ah, fuck, yeah!”
Even though I’d been checking myself out for months, muscle by muscle, this was the first time I had really let the full impact of what I had become hit me. It was like all the years of work disappeared, and I was an forty eight-year-old manboy looking out of the eyes of a massive muscle-freak. And damn, did I like what I saw!
“Grrrr…” I growled, as I rolled my slabs of pec-meat up and down. I heard a whimpering behind me, and saw that Doc had stripped down and was beating his little dick as he watched me.
“Don’t touch yourself!” I ordered. He dropped his hands to his sides.
Returning to my self-worship, I brought my arms up in a double-bi.
“BOOM!”
The smell of sweat, oil and tanning stain filled the room, and my cock filled my trunks. I hit a front lat-spread and flexed my striated glutes for Doc’s benefit. He moaned. I chuckled.
“Yeah, dig it, you weak bitch!”
I turned to doc and put my bulging package in his face. He slurped all over it as he stared up at his monster. I smirked down at him, belly-breathing my bulging rock-hard gut in and out.
“Take it out, Doc.”
He pulled my posers down over my hips and to the floor, letting my thick, veiny meat slap him in the face. Automatically, his lips formed an ‘O’ and he started to go for it.
“No, Doc; not this time,” I said, backing away. “Just watch.”
And I started my posing routine. This was the way I wished I could have done it for that crowd, showing them everything I had, arrogantly shoving it all in their faces. Grunting with lust as I hit each pose, sweat flying off my nuts as I thrust my pelvis at them. Doc’s glasses fogged-up, and his breathing got harder and harder. His tongue was licking his lips, and I knew how bad he wanted to be licking me. Slobber ran down his chin and his hands twitched. Still I poured it on, a feast of muscle inches from his face, and not letting him have a morsel of it. Pre-cum dripped from my meat to the floor and I knew how bad he wanted it, but still he obeyed me; good boy. Finally I turned back to the mirror, and I knew from his groan how bad Doc wanted to bury his face in my sweaty trench. I clenched my jaw and furrowed my brow. God-fuckin’-damn-it-all-to-hell, but I was a hot hunk of he-man! 267 pounds of roided-out freak! I lost self-control at that point, and grabbed the mirror, rubbing myself against my own reflection, and kissing the super-masculine face I saw there. My dick was pressed against the glass, humping itself. I heard a scream behind me, and Doc unloaded, without even touching himself. That set me off, and I howled as my jizz coated the mirror. I dropped to the floor, almost passing out, it was so intense. When I came to my senses, I saw Doc lovingly licking my load off the mirror. Then he crawled to my side and looked at me like he was waiting for permission.
“Sure Doc; clean me up.”
I enjoyed the feel of his tongue licking me clean, as I thought about the future. The titles yet to be won. The crowds still to be wowed. I glanced at Doc’s bag sitting on the luggage rack. He had plans for a new regimen of drugs, one that would take me to another level of freakiness. I couldn’t wait.
One year later; and what a year it's been. Doc has me on so many things, I stopped trying to keep track of it all; I don't care so long as I grow. And have I ever! Doc's theory is that most guys don't reach their full potential because they don't combine everything at once, and don't stay on long enough. Plus, they don't eat enough, take in enough protein, and burn too many calories doing shit other than lifting. So my life has gotten real boring. All I do is eat, sleep, lift, eat, sleep, lift. Today, for example. I woke up and looked down at my monstrous pecs, which blocked my view of the rest of me. I thought about getting up for a while before I did. At this weight, sitting up is an effort. Finally I got up and walked to the bathroom to take a leak. I had my usual morning piss-hard, so I had to force it out. I could have jacked-off, but it seemed like too much trouble. Besides, I like to save all that energy for the gym. I went into the kitchen and mixed-up three meal-replacements in the blender. It's too much trouble cooking, so I either eat out or drink my meals. I chugged it down, then got into my training gear. That's no easy task, trying to get clothes on over all this bulk. Luckily, Jamie arrived just then and helped me pull my shirt on.
"Wow, you're getting sooo biiig!" he gushed.
Fuckin' little faggot. Still, he has his uses. He was there to drive me to the gym. Doc found him for me. Said he'd take care of all my needs when he was at work...and some things that Doc has no interest in doing. Oh, did I mention I'm living in Doc's basement now? No rent that way. Kinda pisses me off though, the way he keeps me down here like he's ashamed to have people see me. Whatever. Once I win a major show, the offers will come pouring in, and then he can kiss my ass. So Vas drove me to the gym and followed me in. He helps change plates for me; shit like that. Lemme tell you, the people just part like the fuckin' Red Sea when I walk in. Anything I want to use, it's suddenly available. Any asshole doesn't get outta my way fast enough, I just stare at him till he gets the fuckin' message. So: I ripped my legs to shreds doing squats, leg presses...the usual shit. But with poundage's like you've never seen. I'm wearing "baggies," but the pump gets so extreme the fuckers are tight on me. Finally I drop trou and flex those monsters in the mirror, and you could hear a pin drop in the place. Shee-it, man! I can't believe the size of them myself! They aren't exactly cut now, at this weight; but they're still pretty fuckin' hard. Vas drove me to this restaurant that has an arrangement with Doc to give me whatever I want on a tab. I eat a dozen eggs, two glasses of milk, a steak, a bowl of rice...I forget what else. Jamie wiped my chin for me every once in a while, I'm shoveling it in so fast. Back home, I flopped onto the bed, and Vas got to work pulling my sweat-soaked gear off. When he was done, he stood there looking at me, waiting for fuckin' permission. I smirked at him.
"Get to work, bitch!"
He lit up like a fuckin' Christmas tree, and stripped off his clothes. He's got a tight little body, with big tits for an eighteen-year-old, and an ass like a perfect peach. I put my hands behind my head and he dove into my armpits, licking and slurping like a pig in slop. He fuckin' loves my sweat. Pretty nasty if you ask me, but I know it will get him goin'. He worked his way down my bod till he got to my crotch. I spread my quads and he lapped at my sweaty sack. Now lemme tell ya, 'roids are supposed to shrink your nads, right? Well, not mine. They were pretty fuckin' big to begin with, but Doc has figured out a way to use this stuff, HCG, so that they never shut down, and just keep crankin' out more test all the time. So I've got a massive set of nuts; they look like they belong on a bull, in fact. And Jamie goes wild over 'em. After a couple minutes of that, my dong was standing up proud and tall, and he dove on it. That Vas has one sweet mouth, almost as good as Doc. But that's Doc's territory; Vas has other talents. Now I never thought I'd get into fuckin' anything but guys, man. But they are just too much trouble. And no guy ever gave herself so totally to me; it's always all about them, ya know? That don't fly with this stud. It's all about me,or fuck you! And Vas worships the ground I stomp on.
"Climb on, muscle boy!"
He straddled my hips and aimed my porker at his tight little rosebud. No matter how many times I give it to him, he never seems to get loose. I felt that tight, hot glove sliding down over my prong, until his cheeks were squeezing my balls. Fuckin' A, but that hole is sweet! He started to forced himself up and down my shaft, while these little whimpering sounds came out of his mouth. I stood it as long as I could, then rolled over on top of him, my massive chest forcing the air out of him with a 'whoosh."
"Hold on, we're goin' for a ride!"
Then I hammered that mancunt till his head was bashing against the headboard, and I was grunting and panting like a stallion breeding his mare. Finally he started to wail, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his little prick unloaded all over my abs. When he comes, his ass does this rippling kind of thing that feels like having your dick in a milking machine, man. That always sets me off, and I blasted a fuckin' geyser of sperm up his spasming little mancunt. I was bellowing like a fuckin' bull, man! I passed out after that, and when I woke up three hours later, Vas had left...not in an ambulance, I hope! Doc was between my legs licking my piece clean, and I rewarded him with another blast of man-cream. Then he made me another drink, and we did a body-composition test.
333 pounds, at 10% bodyfat.
Life is fuckin' good, man!
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