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|"You are fucking shitting me."
"I shit you not." Cary was grinning foolishly as he spoke into the phone. He could hear David's incredulity clearly.
"You and Steve fucking Taylor."
"Well actually, it was Steve Taylor fucking me."
"In your momma's bed."
"Mine's not big enough for him, David." That's it, Cary. Don't just plant the knife in his heart. Twist it, too.
"You are fucking shitting me!"
He laughed. It was his own reaction coming back at him. "Seriously David, it all happened just like that. He showed up yesterday morning. We showered. We fucked. Then today he takes me to his gym and he sits my thin white ass down and makes me push the iron around like Ahnuld."
"Okay, now you are fucking shitting me. You at the gym? Right. And Ricky Martin is straight."
"Really? He is? His boyfriend will be so crushed!"
"So spill, white boy. Give with the details. He was a big awkward fuck, right? All those muscles and not a brain in his head. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Please don't tell me he looks like that and is great in bed, too."
"Life is so unfair."
"Not lately," Cary said, smiling brightly. "David, you wouldn't even believe it if I had it on DVD with play-by-play action. The boy is beautiful and the boy can fuck. And talk about giving head. I mean, you would not…"
"…believe it! He sucked me off like…"
"…a Hoover and drank me down like a man in the desert."
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
"We gotta get you one of these jocks, David. They are sweet!"
"So tell me more about this Jim McDonald."
Steve was there every day. They went to the gym on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and, as promised, Cary actually did start to see himself changing.
It was so subtle at first that he couldn't be sure. Everything hurt, and that made him aware of all the muscle he had. He felt it was his body protesting against him, but Steve told him it was his body finally waking up. "You have to stop thinking of yourself as some thin white guy, dude." Cary loved it now when Steve used that word with him. Dude. "And start thinking of yourself as a fucking muscle stud with a body to die for. It's an attitude change as well as a lifestyle change. You've been living inside this other life where you thought you belonged, but that was all illusion. You're on your way to where you belong, Cary! I mean, look at yourself!"
So he did, and he felt embarrassed and excited at the same time. They were at the gym again and Cary sat in the incline bench as Steve kneeled in front of him. Two 35 lbs. dumbbells sat on the floor. He'd just dropped them after his fourth set, having worked his chest to failure. He wore a white t-shirt and a pair of back workout shorts. His breath was coming in short, sharp intakes and sweat poured from his body.
But there he was in the mirror, and he still looked like Cary, but he definitely saw what Steve was talking about. There were his arms, but he could see the muscle now. Slim bulges lined his upper arms, and thin veins were popping along his forearms. He now owns an arc of brawn on his upper chest that swayed over and met the rounding contour of his growing shoulders.
Six weeks. In just six weeks he looked like this. "I look okay," he said.
"You fucker! You look a lot better than okay! Stand up, Cary. Stand up and take that shirt off."
He smiled sideways. He pulled himself up, his abs tightening and burning (damn those crunches!) and he lifted his arms and peeled the shirt from his wet skin. He held it in his hand and looked at Steve, first, and saw his smile appear, his beautiful and perfect smile, and the way it changed his face and made him utterly irresistible. "Take a look at yourself, dude! Look what you've done!"
He looked in the mirror and couldn't help but smile.
He had changed. He had to admit it. Now, after the pump, his muscles filled with fresh blood, he could see definition and power and felt a sexual thrill. His tight belly had the bloom of a six-pack on it. He'd never been fat, so any muscle he developed showed up distinct and defined. His chest was no longer flat and smooth. He sure wasn't the owner of a set of round, firm pecs like Steve, but he had a chest. A real one.
"Throw yourself a double-bi, Cary. C'mon, show me what you got!"
Cary laughed slightly. But he obeyed, raising the arm that didn't hold the sweat-soaked shirt and he watched his tight, hard bicep swell and rise. He could see where it attached to his arm, see the fibers and tendons of it, actually see the muscle. "Now show me your tricep, dude. C'mon, flex it! Show me the muscle!"
He straightened his arm and, magically, there it was. Another muscle! He was amazed that it was even there. It arched and bulged away from his arm. And then Steve said, "Fuckin' A, dude. You're a hunk!"
"Yeah, right." He dropped back to the bench. Cary understood about the attitude adjustment – it just wasn't quite there yet. Sure, he spent more time with the mirror lately than he ever had, bulging his chest to watch the cords of muscle bunch and swell, bending his arms and tightening his biceps. He was more aware of his body than he'd ever been, and found himself now doing pushups or crunches or using the set of dumbbells Steve gave him – his "hand me downs" as he called them, since he'd moved up to higher plates – whenever he found himself at rest. He still had problems doing chin ups, and that bugged the shit out of him, but everything else was happening just like Steve had promised.
And there were pleasant side effects as well. Their sex life was almost constant and he had stamina to burn.
"You're getting there, Cary. You know you are. Look at the progress in just six weeks! How much weight have you gained?"
"Shit, dude! That's two pounds of muscle a week – probably more, because you're losing fat, too."
"I didn't have any fat," he answered defensively.
"I wasn't fat."
Steve smiled that damned smile of his and Cary melted. "Okay, dude. But look at the gains! You're lifting a lot more than you did. You're completing your reps and doing more of them. You aren't having trouble with any of the exercises and I think you even look forward to your gym time now."
"Now you're just talking insanity." But Cary had to smile, too, because it was true. He was looking forward to this, now. To the burn and the struggle and the shaking and the sweating – and to how he felt and how he looked after. His pants were practically falling off him. His shirts were starting to display the bulges underneath. He might even take off his shirt from time to time, now. He certainly was not fat before, but he also knew that his belly was decidedly tighter and it looked like his dick was longer now that his pelvis had lost a little softness.
And that was definitely good.
Steve wasn't looking bigger, but he was definitely looking harder. His body was tightened up, the muscle more deeply defined. When he showed Cary what particular body part they'd be working on, or showing him what muscle group to concentrate on and how to tense the muscle before the flex, Cary could see the individual muscle very clearly now. His skin was thin across the brawn he packed on, and maybe he was bigger in some places, but overall he just looked more powerful.
Between their workouts at the gym and their workouts in Steve's bedroom or Cary's shower or almost any place else they found themselves alone, lately, there wasn't much time for any real conversation. Other than Steve instructing Cary on the fine points of the burn, or Cary letting Steve know exactly where that tongue needed to be, and how much harder to push.
By the two month mark, it was time for Cary to move into phase two, or what Steve called "the build up."
"We've just been laying the groundwork up to now," he said, massaging Cary's shoulders. "You're doing fucking great. Now we need to increase the weight and really push the gains."
Cary grimaced, more from the thought of harder workouts than from Steve's strong hands. "Yippee."
"Plus, we move up to six days a week from three, rotating the same cycle but doing it twice as often." Cary groaned audibly. "You're enthusiasm is underwhelming."
"Cary, if you think you've made progress so far, just wait until September, dude. You won't even recognize yourself. But, um, we need to talk about your diet."
It was at the end of that week, before the Build Up started, when Steve came face to face with the Miracle Man again. Cary wasn't around, this was his last day off before the new phase would start. It was early in the morning, and Cary had begged Steve for `just one day when I can lie in bed in the summer and not think about doing anything, like any other sane high school graduate.' Steve agreed, but not without argument.
So Steve was there alone, doing some curls on his biceps, watching the fibers twist under his tanned skin, when a recognizable tingling crawled across his skin and he felt someone standing behind him. He hadn't heard the gym door open, there was no sound of anything or anyone else in the room besides his own soft grunts and exhales as he pumped the iron in his grip.
He stopped and dropped the dumbbell to the mat and sat up straight. He knew who was standing behind him. The feeling was eerily familiar, and a rush of excitement and the memory of their sex hit him like a heatwave.
"Excuse me," said a voice, the tone as deep as the ocean and just as powerful. It went through him, shook him, grabbed his balls, wound itself around him and squeezed. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, a bear's paw, huge and fine.
Steve turned slowly and looked up. And there he was, like magic, but now he looked even better than before. Just seeing him almost made Steve cream his shorts.
"Jesus Christ," Steve whispered, his mouth agape at the man he saw now. He was huge with muscle, muscle everywhere. He looked now like the man he would become after the workout. Not the smooth, lean, beautiful man who normally appeared, but the mammoth collection of brawn and angular masculine beauty he became. The man smiled and took his hand from Steve's shoulder, took a step back and stood there, naked and powerful and perfect. "Jesus Christ," Steve said again.
"Thanks," the man replied. Then he stood there, as if waiting for something. His eyes were locked on Steve's, his posture was both relaxed and anxious, somehow. The bulging lines of his physique moved as he breathed. His chest expanding, his cobblestone belly flexing and contracting, his rounded shoulders bulging up and out. His dark, dark eyes burned into Steve and it was clear this visit was entirely for him. Steve allowed his gaze to drift down to the monster cock hanging so thick and long and lush from the man's wealth of black curls between his legs. And the round fullness of his balls. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. It flowed off him, he was made of it, it coated him and dripped from him.
"Hi." Steve laughed slightly at the scene, he couldn't help it. He felt nervous and excited and freaked. This impossibly beautiful, impossibly strong, impossibly sexy naked man standing near him, smiling down to him, waiting for him. The man merely nodded, his smile unchanged, not otherwise moving. "Where have you been?"
He shrugged slightly, his whole upper body seeming to gather in on itself and bulge madly with the gesture. Steve felt his dick twitch. "I've been kept busy."
Steve felt his eyebrows rise. The man was making conversation? This was new. "So I see."
The man dropped his laser-sharp gaze from Steve's eyes and let the dark orbs explore Steve's body. "You look good," he said at last, his deep voice practically growling out the last word. "Stand up." Steve did so. "I want to see all of you." Steve started to pivot, but he felt the man's hand on his shoulder again and he stopped, facing him. "No," he instructed, "I want to see all of you."
"Oh. Oh!" Well, he didn't have to ask twice. With a glance toward the gym door, Steve quickly stripped off his sweat-darkened T shirt, kicked his shoes off and peeled his socks after. Then, pausing momentarily, he put his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and jock and shoved them down his well-muscled body.
He was slick with sweat and breathing hard, both from his earlier exertions and the excitement of the moment. He straightened and stood there for the man, now both naked, and watched the man's face as he looked at Steve's improved form, the tight round bellies of his muscles, his fine, sleek skin. Steve felt himself growing harder as blood pumped him full and thick. The man's smile grew wide at the site. "Beautiful," he said softly.
He strode slowly forward, closing the gap between them until he stood so close to Steve that their bodies touched, muscle to muscle, skin to skin. He was slightly taller than Steve and much larger. His skin was so smooth and seemed almost to glow. He smelled like a man, like dirt and cars and sweat and musk. He raised his arm, his muscles bunching and bulging, and slowly moved his touch along Steve's arm never taking his gaze from Steve's. His touch wakened Steve's memories of their shower fuck, then his face leaned down and touched lips to lips, mouth to mouth, soft and tender and hot and wet. His hand pulled Steve to him and the kiss changed, became hungry, needful, demanding.
Steve felt the man's other hand move down the small of his back onto his round ass and again, Steve was pulled forcefully. He lifted his leg and straddled the man's hip, rubbing his hard cock against the man's warm flesh. He could feel the large man's strength in the muscles pressed against him, feel his movements as if they were his own. "Oh, god," he moaned, melting into his touch.
"Fuck me," the man said softly, his words spoken into Steve's ear and sinking in deeply. "Fuck me with your muscles. Fuck me hard, Steve."
When he heard his own name, spoken by the man's powerful voice, chills ran through him and he shuddered. Fuck him? Fuck yeah, he'd fuck him. Right here. Right now. In the gym, where anyone could wander in.
The man's mouth moved down his body, kissing and sucking him, catching his hard nipple between his teeth, licking his rippled six pack, wetting the treasure trail that lead down to his now very hard and very hungry cock. The man's impossibly wide shoulders spread out and bulged with power as he bent to suck Steve's dick inside his hot mouth. Deep, deep inside, sucking against him and then releasing him, looking up to meet his gaze and smiling before sinking to the floor and leaning back, bending his heavily muscled legs and pulling his red puckered asshole into view.
Steve dropped down and leaned against the man, kissed his hole with the drooling tool throbbing between his own legs and then thrust in all the way with a sudden, hard, deep shove. The man's face, the beautiful and flawless face, tightened slightly and then Steve felt his cock being pleasured by an ass that was as talented and amazing as anything else this man possessed.
"Fuck me," he said again, opening his eyes. "Fuck me, Steve."
Steve's hips bucked, his ass flexed, his belly tightened and released as he put his whole body into the fuck, shoving hard and deep and full, faster and faster, slapping his balls against the man's tight ass, leaning over him and then leaning down, supported effortlessly by the arms he'd built, and kissed the man's soft, silken lips, again and again, sucking his lips inside his mouth, welcoming his tongue and giving his own in return. The man's hands were on his ass, pulling him inside, using his incredible strength to keep Steve's hardness inside him, where it felt good and perfect and steaming hot.
Steve fucked him hard, just as he'd asked, harder than he ever fucked anyone, using his whole body, all his muscles, trying to shove everything inside this perfect man's ass. His load was building, insistent, hot and heavy in his balls. He was ready to blow and the man could feel it or sense it because he pulled Steve and wouldn't let him go, held his hard dick inside as the flood came, heating up that tight ass with white hot come that pumped out of Steve like lava.
Steve groaned deeply, completely satisfied, coated with sweat and stink and tingling everywhere. He collapsed down onto the huge man's muscled form and felt his strong arms embracing him tightly. He felt small, somehow, inside that strong acceptance. He was breathing hard after that workout and felt the man squeeze his ass, tightening the grip on his dick. "Oh, fuck," Steve sighed, resting his face against the man's corded neck.
The man laughed silently, his body moving under Steve. Suddenly Steve was aware of the other man's dick, hot and hard against his belly. He moaned with pleasure, sensing the hugeness of him, feeling him there. The man was breathing deep and slow, his chest rising and falling. He was huge, so huge.
Steve pulled himself up and looked at the man's dark eyes, kissed his lips again and pulled his soft cock from his vice-like grip. "What's your name?"
The man smiled seductively, and said, "This is a dream."
Steve wrinkled his brow. "Huh?"
"Watch me now, Steve. See what I've become." They separated, the man turning slightly and rising. He stood over Steve for a moment and then approached the chest machine. Steve watched his tight round ass as he walked away, marveling at its perfection and power. Then the man sat himself down and did impossible things.
He was already huge – as big as Steve ever saw him. His muscles bulged fat and round and hard, swelling along the lines of his body in mute glory, announcing his power and brute masculine beauty with every movement, from every angle. But the man set the weights at the heaviest load and started pumping, and it was clear that he was not yet as big as he could get.
His upper body heaved against the hundreds of pounds and after a couple of reps, it reacted in its usual way, swelling larger and thicker and fatter with even more muscle. The man was smiling as he showed Steve what he never thought he'd see again, and the man grew bigger than any bodybuilder, big as a God.
He smiled at Steve and moved next to the arm blaster, again setting the weight to its highest before grasping the handles and pulling his forearm toward his upper arm and the bicep inflated like a balloon. Veins popped like tree branches all across his arms.
Once he was done there, he moved to the leg machine and repeated the performance. Steve was frozen in place as he watched the display. The thick wedges of brawn pumped up larger and larger, the separate strands of power swelling up, growing even larger and more powerful. Each muscle now so large and clearly defined under his paper-thin skin that he looked like a map of masculine strength.
Then, again, his cock joined in on the incredible growth taking place. It turned red and shiny and positively pumped itself into a tool that grew between his legs and swelled thick and hard. His balls ballooned and there he was, his new perfect self, so huge and powerful and beautiful that he seemed less like a living, breathing man and more like a dream, or a fantasy.
He stood up and up and up, a tower of muscular perfection, and stood breathing deeply. His chest was two fat globes of brawn. The biceps were as large as a man's head. His legs pressed against each other and his cock arched proud and full and thick and long.
Steve's mouth hung open and he was hardly breathing. The man walked to him and, again, bent his lips down and kissed Steve hard and deep and true. A shock of sexual energy shook Steve to his core, everything about this man screamed desire and lust and deep, full, true sexual satisfaction. His body was slick and shining with sweat. His chiseled jaw was rough with whiskers and his scent, that deeply masculine stink, surrounded them both.
"Now," he said quietly, "it's my turn."
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