By AbsMan420

Handcuffed to the bench next to my locker, lying on the floor as two of those gym-bunnies - Rook and Romagna, their "leader," their pimp - raped me, knowing that an orgasm on my part would make me like them, would transform me into another vampiric pretty-boy, even then, I couldn't help but enjoy it. I never thought of myself as a dick-hound before - I'd never use the term "size-queen" in self-description - (Hell, I just jerked off with Palumbo a few minutes ago, and he's got the tiniest little dick in the universe!) - but Romagna had one HUGE cock, one massive member, and he knew how to fuck with it. He rammed it into my hole, filling me to the point of discomfort - but not quite - I mean, either he knew I liked it rough, or he just didn't care. Romagna fucked me with the abandon of a selfish predator. And I rode him like a selfish whore.

Meanwhile, Rook, kneeling to the left of my torso, who'd been concentrating on my sensitive nipples, attacked my cock, blowing me with an abandon that I found a little incomprehensible. Rook had been a virgin until yesterday. Now he was sucking with a technique built by years of experience. Here I was getting fucked by the most amazing cock I'd ever seen, getting a blow job that ALONE could've qualified as the best sexual experience of my life, and it was all I could do NOT to enjoy it. It was WAY too much pleasure.

Anyone could be forgiven for giving in. Nobody could withstand this kind of onslaught. Not even Palumbo - though it probably would've taken more than two of them to get him into the same position I was. If only I'd gotten as powerful as Palumbo...

I struggled against the handcuffs, don't get me wrong, but I think my arms would've broken before my bonds did.

"There's nothing to do but give up and enjoy it," Romagna said at one point, grooving to his rhythm. "You WILL be one of us."

I may have screamed "No!" but I don't think I meant it. It was so hard to keep ANY kind of thoughts straight - it was hard to keep any kind of straight thoughts...

That may've been when I moaned.

"That's right," coached Romagna. "Way better than gettin' fucked by Palumbo and his baby dick, isn't it?"

I tried to answer, but couldn't. Words were missing as my breath hitched.

As the gear kicked up a notch.

Oh my God, I thought. Not the SECOND STAGE! Not now!!!

Rook straddled my head suddenly, giving himself a better angle on my cock, putting us into a sixty-nine position. The head of his swelling dick brushed over my lips.

It smelled so good.

His smooth-shaven balls were hanging right over my nose - I noticed he had a chrome cock-ring on, silvery and shiny next to his tan skin. Would I have to wear one of those?

Again, the head of his dick swept past my mouth, a thin drop of pre-cum wiping onto my lips, filling my mouth with flavor - salty, sweet - better than... better than...

Better than anything I'd ever had in my life!

Oh my God, how could anybody resist...? WHY would...?

I licked him, opening my mouth to accept his cock - my destiny - as the overwhelming power of the second stage bubbled in my loins. Romagna increased his tempo - he was close to cumming, too.

I was lost. Lost! I couldn't resist him - and God help me, I didn't want to. I just wanted to orgasm and get it over with.

I opened my eyes half-way to help guide Rook's cock into my mouth, so we could all cum at the same time, and I was surprised to see my reflection in the chrome plating of his cock-ring, the lusty expression in my eyes, so much like I'd seen in Romagna's.

My eyes! I could see my eyes!


"Control," I murmured desperately. "Muscle... before... cock."

Romagna paused for a second. "What...?" he started to say, but he could already feel the change - he knew something was different. Something was wrong.

But nothing was wrong - for me. I said the trigger and it immediately took effect - how could Romagna have known about it?

Stupid fucker. THAT was gonna cost him the game.

The second stage washed over me, bringing its power, it strength, its inherent masculinity, but with it - thanks to the trigger - the removal of weakness, the relief from the threat of sexual distraction. As I said the control phrase that Dr. V had taken so much care to implant, the power from my cock transferred to my muscle, the wasted energy in genital stimulation given new focus.

What mattered was MUSCLE. Anybody could cum. ANYBODY could please their dick.

Romagna sensed the change - his fucking became tentative, unsure. And as any MAN knew, the second fucking became tentative, all was lost.

Rook, on the other hand, only noticed that my cock had gotten soft. No matter what he did, nothing re-grew it. As he knelt there looking at it with a confused and stupid look on his face, it took little effort on my part to bring my right knee back quickly, smacking him dead center in the forehead.

It wasn't as pretty as a punch, but it took the little fag out. He collapsed on the floor next to me, moaning and holding his head, his bloody nose.

"What's going on?" Romagna demanded. "What the fuck's going on?"

I smiled cruelly. "I'm myself again," I growled. "For the first time."

I constricted my ass muscles, squeezing his cock hard inside me. Romagna screamed.

But I was muscle - I was beyond pain. Or feeling other's pain...

I rolled back, bringing my knees to my chest, putting my feet flat on Romagna's torso, still holding his cock inside me. He looked pathetic, confused and beaten all at once - he was out of control, and he didn't know why.

Fuck him.

Like I was doing leg-presses at my max weight - and who the fuck knew what that was now - I shoved Romagna away from me. To my amusement and pleasure - accompanied by a "popping" sound as his cock came out of me - he flew across the lounge area, slamming into the wall on the far side of the room before sliding to the ground in a broken heap. Even then, one hand still cupped his package, protecting it.

My next challenge was the handcuffs. Pulling against them, they were as unyielding as before - what the fuck WERE they, adamantium? - but I found I was able to actually grab the floor posts I was connected to, gripping them like I did the lat-pulldown bar, wide and outside. The handcuffs had dug into my wrists, making it difficult to fight against them, but by grabbing the posts, I was able to use my full strength.

The blood wasted on my erection flowed into my muscle, pumping me up like I was about to go onstage for a competition. I could feel the veined thickness and the ever-growing power. I pulled against the posts, bolted into the floor - and though it was only a tiny bit, I felt them move!

Move! God damn right! They... fuckin'... moved!

I pulled again, stronger and ever more confident - growing to accommodate my need.

Not enough.

Fuck! What the fuck...? Move, you fuckin' piece of weak-ass pussy shit...

A reverse Samson, pulling the pillars together instead of pushing them apart - I fed on that image. Still, I didn't have the leverage I needed - I was fuckin' layin' on the floor after all.

Fuckin' PISSIN' me off!

Using those glorious abs that Prince had given me, I rolled up on my shoulders until the balls of my feet rested on the corner of the bench. From Romagna's vantage point, he could clearly see the ass that he wasn't gonna win. Yeah, I was gonna kill that fucker.

With the power of my legs behind me - these legs that had just deadlifted almost half-a-ton - I shoved against the bench with everything I had, gripping the posts for balance.

The seat of the bench flew off, slamming into the lockers with a loud clang! Rook screamed, scared by the noise. "Shut up, you faggot!" I said, rolling myself up over the bench's metal frame, a reverse somersault, until my knees touched the floor on the far side of it. Now the bench was below me, wrapped in my muscular torso - I was folded over it - and all I had to do was stand up.

Using my body, my deadlifting skills, the sheer power of my masculinity, I ripped the metal framework of the bench out of the cement floor. Yelling as if it were nothing more than a heavy set, I pulled the bolts from the concrete.

"Fuck... YEAH!" I roared, throwing the useless metal aside, my cuffs easily sliding off the broken posts, now dangling from my wrists. I couldn't help but flex, a full-body, every-muscle flex, a Lou-Ferrigno-Incredible-Hulk flex. I was man - hear me roar!

I strode over to Romagna, aware of my new weight, my added size. I felt as big as I was, a beast, a monster, more of a freak than I'd ever dreamed of being, bigger than my biggest fantasies. I slowed my pace so he could really appreciate what I'd become - so he could really build some fear. Look at me! Bigger than the biggest bodybuilders, no roidgut, making me even more beautifully displayed, pumped beyond pump, swollen beyond possibility.

"Look at me," I growled, rolling my shoulders, flexing my neck and traps. When he lifted his eyes to my face, I smiled, that same cruel smile that had been on his face minutes ago, cocky and certain of victory. "Look at the man that beat you."

The way Romagna clutched his torso, I suspected I'd broken one of his ribs, after kicking him across the room. Kind of a shame. I was looking forward to doing some damage to his pretty face first. I was looking forward to beatin' him down into a bloody pulp.

Maybe raping HIM.

Pretty-boy fuck.

With one foot, I reached out and stepped on his crotch, burying my heel in the sac of his balls. His scream reached into me and caused me unexpected pleasure.

And then Rook from across the room. "NO!" he cried. "Leave him alone!"

Rook, already bloodied from battle, charged me, like a fairy playin' touch-football, thinkin' he's bein' all aggressive, but lookin' like an idiot. It took so little effort to stop him that for a second, I wondered if there was going to be ANYONE who would ever provide a challenge again. Certainly not these little pretty-boy fags. I straight-armed Rook, causing him to fall back onto his ass. He hit the ground with a winded "oof!"

I turned my attention back to Romagna - I hadn't even taken my foot off his cock when Rook charged me, THAT'S how little effort Rook took. "Your turn," I said, pressing my foot down into his flesh - I wish I'd had a fuckin' BOOT on! That would cause him some pain.

Points for him - even through that treatment, he questioned me. "H-h-how?" he asked, tears welling in his eyes.

I smiled - shrugged the same kind of shrug that any of my massive peers used, that same motion, kind of off-hand. "It just takes control," I said. "Just gotta put muscle before cock." I pressed my weight into him until he moaned slightly. Then I said, "But you wouldn't understand that. You're weak."

"And you're a freak," he said, spitting the words out, helplessly pinned beneath my foot but trying to have his say - as if he still controlled the scene. "Enjoy being a fuckin' moron, Strong! Enjoy fuckin' little-dicked guys for the rest of your life." Then HE smiled and slowly said, "Enjoy BEING one."

I bent down to him, and quietly stated, "You know, while I'm still able to think, maybe I'll amp you up and fuck you into submission, how about that? How about I fuck you into my little cockslave, make you follow me around the gym, changing my weights and worshipping my moron-ness in front of your old followers, BEGGIN' to get my little dick in you. How 'bout that?"

"'Moron-ness!'" he hissed, yelping as I pressed my heel into his balls. "See? It's already happening! You're already fucked."

"No. You're the one who's fucked." I slammed my foot down even harder, until I had the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Still hard as a rock, I felt his erection run all the way along the bottom of my foot, the head fighting my toes for freedom. "I'm the one that's gonna be huge."

As I raised my arms above my head and flexed out a double-bis - the handcuffs still dangling from my forearms - I must've put a little more pressure on his package than I intended, because he moaned uncomfortably.

Then I felt him shoot his load, orgasming against my foot, the involuntary rhythm of climax playing beneath me. While I flexed above him, Romagna shot like a defeated little puss-boy, crying and clutching his ribs.


I lifted my foot off him, his cum dripping off me. "What the fuck did you do to my foot? You fuckin' asshole. I don't want your nasty cum on me - lick this shit off!"

Romagna's breath hitched, interrupting his sobs. He HAD to obey - now. You always had to obey the bigger man - that was the first rule at this gym.

Especially when that bigger man has beaten you so thoroughly.

My foot was right in his face, balanced in the crook of his collarbone, cum-smothered toes next to his lips. He tried to resist, so I pressed the ball of my foot against him mouth, getting my toes and his cum on his cheek and nose, mixing with the tears.

"Lick this shit off!" I quietly commanded, in control once and for all.

Resigned, Romagna closed his eyes and ran his tongue out over the bottom of my foot.

I said, "Look at me while you do it" and smiled slightly when he did, the anger and humiliation so obvious in his stare - and it had no effect on me. As a matter of fact, it turned me on.

Glaring at me, he licked his cum off my foot, leaving it as clean as a newly-detailed car, shiny and slick.

I examined it briefly before I put my foot back on the ground and resumed my stance. "Good job," I said, then added, "boy."

He sneered, but said nothing.

"Rook!" I called, not looking away from Romagna. "Get your sorry ass over here and get these fuckin' handcuffs off me!"

Unsure who to obey, Rook was tentative as he stepped up to me with the key. He kept looking at Romagna, laying there on the floor, helpless and bloodied, and reassessed how he felt about his Master, his pimp. As he opened the first set of cuffs and they fell to the floor, he looked up into my eyes and asked earnestly, "Are you gonna fuck me, too?"

I just stared at him, watching him run his hand down the musculature of my other arm - I flexed it slightly so the muscles were hard - over the huge lump of my biceps, down my Popeye-like forearm, until he finally grabbed the handcuff around my wrist.

As soon as they were off, I turned away from him.

"Aren't you gonna fuck me?" he called, hugging my massive torso, stroking my heavy chest. "Please? C'mon, Strong. You gotta show me you own me, too. You gotta fuck me, Strong. Please. Please, I'll do anything. I'll worship you. PLEASE!"

I snorted. "You could've been like me," I said, shaking my head.

Casually, I back-handed him and he tripped over Romagna's legs, falling to the floor in a heap next to his deposed god.

I gave them one last threat and one last flex. "Don't ever fuck with me again," I said in a low voice. "If any of your faggy bunnies ever talk to me or even try to come near me, I'll pound the livin' shit out of them, and then I'll give the same thing to you, Romagna. Every time. Count on it. THAT I'll remember to do."

Beaten and broken, I left the two of them there crying, comforting each other - defeated.

Naked, the buzz RAGING inside me, I went out onto the gym floor. I didn't know if I should cum or not - I didn't know how long I'd be affected by Romagna's penetration. So I did the only thing I knew to do.

I worked out.

Quickly and smoothly, I put two twenty-five on the incline bar. After only a glance or two at myself in the mirror - at my fuckin' AMAZING new body - my huge muscle - I sat down on the bench and started repping.

It felt so fuckin' good - SO much better than sex!

Such a relief to build muscle instead of getting fucked. How could anybody choose their cock over this?

I kept repping, passing twenty, thirty, but still feeling fresh, recovering almost immediately. My chest grew.

I didn't stop - I kept putting it up. I got hard while I did, my erection parallel to my flat lower abs.

I was STILL in my first set an hour-and-a-half later when Brad arrived for work.

But I didn't think even HE was gonna be able to stop me. •

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