Gift, The


By ParisPhoto

The goal was now Olympia for Erik. As was expected by all observers who had been watching the rise in the pro ranks of the former amateur champ, Erik Leas was crowned Mr. Olympia. His rates for photos, sponsorships and muscle worship were multiplied by ten, in particular his sessions with his protégé, Ian, the new teen nationals champ, who had his own contracts and clients now. All this activity took away from their training time, and Ian was disappointed to see his growth slow. What was more grating was the knowledge that however big he got, Erik would always be bigger. In the race for size, Erik had an unbeatable lead, and would always be known as the man who created this new champ. He had to find a way to get bigger.

Over a period of weeks he came up with his plan. One evening he slipped a mickey in Erik's protein shake. In a matter of minutes, the giant had fallen to his knees and then flat on his face. Ian had been busy during Erik's recent absence on tour to hook together an inversion system with a squat rack. The result was a solid metal frame that could be oriented as needed. He managed to lug the now-370 pound Olympian to the frame and bolt his wrists and ankles in place, extending the muscle giant in an X. Erik awoke an hour later, groggy and confused. Ian was out of sight, and the giant started screaming for him. He believed that kidnappers had taken his boy and was frantically trying to pull free from the frame, to no avail.

Finally Ian came into view.

Erik: Ian, you're alright! What's happened? What the hell's going on!! Ian: Well, Erik, you're tied up on that frame, that's what's happened. Erik: Well get me out of here! Ian: Not likely, since I was the one who put you there. Erik: You?! What's going on here?! Ian: Erik, I'm fucking tired of being your creature, of always being smaller however much I work, however much I grow. I know that however long you compete in Olympia, I'll never be able to win. So it's time for me to get a little without you sucking me dry. I'm gonna milk your cock and get as big as I can and take all your titles and be such a god that all your fans won't even remember you even existed. Erik: You can do what you want, but there's no way I'm going to come for you! Ian: You know you are hooked on me. You made me. You made me into your dream muscleboy.

Ian pulled off his shorts and started posing. His cock grew hard, and despite himself, Erik couldn't look away, and worse, couldn't stop himself from getting hard. He wanted to get off, but couldn't alone and incapacitated. He desperately wanted to keep his juice from his protégé turned tormentor, but soon Ian was on his knees, sucking him dry.

While Erik's stress and struggling against his chains had made his semen unusually productive, after a few days Ian realized that his semen slave was not producing good quality juice. He knew that the quality was improved by heavy flexing, so he rigged up an electric muscle stimulator kit to take higher voltages, and began working the Olympian's muscles through the control panel. Ian did enjoy making Erik's bound muscles flex at will, and the quality of the semen was indeed better, and once he had gagged him with the feeding tube, he didn't have to hear Erik's screams. •

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