Locksmith Muscles

By Muscleluvr1956

Hey Guys,

Another story I got the nerve to post. Unlike my previous story, this one is more inline with the established conventions of our genre... I hope this one is to your liking. Please be kind with your criticism. Thanks,


One Saturday morning when I was 10, my step-Dad insisted on taking me with him while he ran an errand. My step-Dad was always trying to get me to do things with him... he couldn't get it through his head that I just didn't like him. His insistence that I miss my Saturday Morning cartoons to go visit some locksmith is only one of the many reasons why we didn't get along. You see, I can't say that I was a victim of abuse, per se, at least not of the usual physical variety one associates with the term, beyond the occasional swat with a hand. My relationship with this whom man I refused to call 'Dad' or 'Pa' or anything other than his name, "Jim", wasn't what it should have been. I resented him. I'd never known my biological father - he'd deserted Mom and I when I was an infant, and I was five years-old when my Mom came home with this man one day and announced that he was my 'new Daddy'. I'd not even been given the opportunity to meet the man before she married him! The past four years had not been pleasant. Mom knew it, too. She realized that she'd made a mistake in marrying this man, but she didn't know how to get out of the relationship. Anyway, Jim was looking for a locksmith that could duplicate an odd type of key - a key that went to the toolbox on his truck, a key, I don't think, was meant to be duplicated - it was one of those cylindrical keys... in the whole city, there was only one locksmith who was supposed to be able to duplicate this type of key... the man worked out of his house.

We lived in Houston, a hot, semi-tropical sprawl of a city on the Texas Gulf coast. Any trip to the other side of town was a good hour trip... I remember Jim insisting we take his pickup instead of Mom's car... I hated his pickup - it smelled of mildew and mold. It had a missing window on the passenger side, which he'd never bothered to replace; that side of the cab was always damp and smelly. I hated it. All the way over to the locksmith's house, Jim kept trying to make conversation - he didn't have any idea how to talk to a child, especially one that didn't like him, not to mention one considerably more intelligent than he. His method of communication bordered on bullying... he'd say things, completely out of the blue - prompted by nothing other than his insistence on making me feel inferior every chance he could get. This particular morning it was, "Boy, why the hell don't you act like other boys your age? Why you got to be such a damn know-it-all? It ain't natural - a boy your age to be so damn smart." This was his way of telling me that he resented the fact that I was smarter than he was. He'd dropped out of school when he was my age, and started to work in a paper-mill... he was now a long-haul trucker, which, by virtue of his long trips away, was the only thing that allowed me to tolerate him. Were it not for my Mom, he'd have had me quitting school and going to work... never mind that there were laws against such a thing... he'd have come up with some half-assed way to get around them.

We finally arrived at the address... it was a black neighborhood - a very poor neighborhood. The house was little more than a shack - it had a neon key in the front window with the word "Lock mith" spelled out in neon inside... the 's' was broken out... the only part of the sign that was lit was the outline of the key. We parked the truck on the street - there wasn't anyplace else to park... I didn't want to get out, but Jim insisted. We went up to the place, and Jim knocked on the door... a voice inside said, "s'open."

We walked in - despite the look of the place outside; it was neat and clean inside. There was an enormous, heavily muscled black man behind a counter - he had a physique to rival Superman, he also had a ready smile and short, close-cropped hair. "Howdy folks. What kin I do ya fer?" He asked. He was wearing a green jumpsuit - it had a picture of a lock and a key sewn over the pocket on the top - and his name, "Ezekiel Johnson" was embroidered inside the key. I remember thinking how much I liked this man's enormous physique - he had a physique that belonged on the back of a comic book, in one of those ads for some bodybuilding course... only thing was, he was a lot bigger than any of the men in those ads!

Jim produced the cylindrical key, handing it to the man. "I hear you can copy this. I need two copies."

When the man took the key, the movement of his gigantic bicep fascinated me - it almost looked as though he was going to burst open the short sleeved jumpsuit, it was so big!

The man looked the key over and said, "Sure, I kin copy it - but it's gonna take a spell. I got's to make the blanks from scratch, you kin leave it and come back, or wait."

"How long we talkin'?" Jim asked.

"Oh, 'bout an hour, mebbe 90 minutes..." came the reply.

"I'll wait." Said Jim, sitting down in one of two molded plastic chairs... chairs that looked like they belonged in the waiting area of a barbershop.

"'kay. Son, my boy be out back doin' some chores - I'm sure he'd like to take a break and play a bit if you of the mind." Said the black superman to me.

I was about to ask the man how old his son was, and how to get 'out back', but Jim, ever the jerk, jumped in, "Son - the man is talkin' to you - show some respect and answer him." and he hit me on the side of the head with the back of his hand... a glancing blow - not hard, but enough that I hated him for it. The locksmith gave Jim a disapproving look, and came around the counter towards me.

Squatting down, he put his mammoth hand on my shoulder. I was staring at the bowling ball that erupted on his upper arm, trying to keep my little dong from swelling up inside my cut-offs. He said, in a quiet voice, "Son, go out this here door, on this side the house, you'll see a gate... jes open it up, and tell my boy, Zechariah - he be about yer age, I guess, you tell Zechariah I sent you back to play so he could have a break."

"Thank you, sir. I'll do that." I said, glaring at Jim, who sat there with a smug look of satisfaction having humiliated me in front of a total stranger.

The black superman stood back up, gave Jim another disapproving look, and walked over behind the counter to begin his work. I noticed that he was huge all over - his thighs stretched the fabric of that jumpsuit to near bursting. Why couldn't my Daddy be a huge muscleman like this man? Why did he have to be such a skinny little jerk?

I opened the door and headed towards the gate I'd seen when we walked up to the place. There was no lawn. Just dirt. Dirt that was compacted heavily. It was damp, and there was mold or moss growing on top in place of grass... there was also the smell of chemicals of some sort, mixed with the unmistakable odor of gasoline... when I reached the gate, it had a wire coat hanger attached, the coat hanger was bent so that it hooked into an eyelet screwed into the fence post. The wooden fence had never been painted; instead, they'd opted for a coating of green-gray mold. The yard, both front and back, was covered in trees - lots of trees... I could hear a sound like grunting coming from the other side of the fence. I reached up, and unhooked the coat-hanger from the eyelet, and pushed the gate open... like the front, there was no grass - just that hard packed mold-covered dirt... there was a lot of junk lying around under the trees, some old sinks, a huge pile of discarded locks, and some other junk I couldn't even identify... but over in the corner of the yard, was a short man with lots of huge muscles, pulling trees out of the ground!

I didn't see any boy - just that muscleman. The muscleman saw me, he turned and said, "Who you?"

I stood, dumbfounded. The muscleman was a boy - a boy with grown-man muscles - muscles that were like Superman - only bigger! How can that be possible? My 10 year-old brain was having a huge problem with that, but my 10 year-old dick was reacting to the sight - it was rising to the occasion proudly, beginning to tent the front of my cut-offs... "Are you Zechariah? Your daddy told me to come back here to play so you could have a break."

"Yeah, but everone calls me Zak..." the muscle boy dropped the 8 ft. cottonwood he'd just ripped out of the ground, walked towards me with his thick, muscular hand out to shake...

"Uh, I'm Dirk. My step-dad's gettin' some keys made, and it's gonna take awhile, so I can play with you until we have to leave." I said, taking the boy's heavy hand in mine to shake. "How'd you get so big an strong?"

"My Pa makes me eat them things`..." Zak points to a small flat filled with mushrooms... "I hate 'em, but they's what make me big an strong. Pa said that since I be eight, it time I start doin' my share of chores 'round here."

Astonished, I said, "You're only EIGHT?!"

"Yeah, jes turned eight." He said, and proudly lifted his right arm and flexed it for me - the peak of his bicep was amazing - it looked as though a softball were stuffed under the skin! This eight-year-old was at least an inch taller than me, and I was considered really tall for my age at 5'3". But that's where the similarities ended. This 'boy' was just as big and muscular as his Superman-sized daddy. Hardly could be called a boy, even though he was only eight. Seeing me doing the math in my head, he added, "I be 5'6" and 230lbs. Got me a 53 inch chest here" he said, proudly puffing it out and flexing his mammoth pecs, "and a 22 inch arm" now flexing his right biceps. My raging boner was getting worse, and being the pre-pubescent I was, there wasn't likely going to be any sort of release, it began to throb, painfully. Zak noticed. "You need to take care o' that. It gonna bust if you don't" He said, nodding at my crotch.

Embarrassed, I didn't know how to respond to that. I didn't need to worry though, Zak reached down, and unzipped my fly... he reached in, and pulled out my little dong with expert hands... he dropped to his knees, and put it in his mouth! I started to back away, but he put his powerful hands around my butt... and held on as he bobbed his head back and forth over my little cock. It only took a moment or two, but I had my first orgasm - the sight of this boy's giant traps, delts and biceps as he encircled my butt with his giant arms was just too much... of course, there wasn't anything to shoot, but the orgasm was undeniable... I'd had my first blowjob!

Zak stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his beefy forearm... "How wuz dat? Feel good?"

I was weak in the knees, and hardly able to speak at all, but I managed, "Uh... yeah, uh... real good..." I really felt unsteady.

"Better go over dere and sit down" he said, motioning to a tree stump nearby. When I didn't move, he bent down put me over his shoulder and carried me to the tree stump where he gently deposited me - the feel of his muscular shoulders and arms were amazing - so hard, so hot. "Jes' sit here - I be right back." He walked over to the back door of the shack, opened it, and walked inside... he came out a moment later with a Mason jar filled with iced tea. He stopped along the way to pull a handful of mushrooms from the flat...

"Eat these and wash 'em down with this," he said as he proffered both hands...

I looked at the mushrooms and the tea in his hands... what would happen if I ate these mushrooms he said gave him all his muscles? Would I get big, huge, muscles too? I didn't wait to ponder that too long... I took the 'shrooms, and stuffed them in my mouth... they were actually pretty good - I liked mushrooms, but they weren't washed, and they had a bit of dirt on them... for that, I needed the tea - so I took the tea from Zak and drank a big gulp of it, washing the dirt down with the 'shrooms.

"You got's to stay sittin' fer a spell, now..." Zak said.

"Why? What's going to..." I didn't finish the sentence. I was paralyzed - I couldn't move except for blinking my eyes and breathing... I felt this great heat - like a fever was coming over me. I began to sweat profusely... sweat dripping down my forehead into my eyes - it stung!

"Oh, I fergot about that..." said Zak, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a blue paisley kerchief, he blotted my face and wiped the sweat from my brow... I looked at him, but couldn't thank him...

I wasn't in pain, but I was afraid. I absolutely could not move beyond my eyes and my chest for breathing... I didn't know what was happening to me, and I was scared. I didn't need to be though...

In moments, my little dong was erect again, but it just seemed to keep getting bigger and bigger... I couldn't see it, but I could feel that my cut-offs were getting tighter, as was my t-shirt... Zak just stood there watching intently - fascinated. I noticed that the front of his jeans were tenting... he finally opened his fly and pulled out his dick - easily a 10" piece of dark-chocolate-colored meat... and started running his hands up and down it's length. I watched, fascinated, as it got harder and harder, longer and fatter, until it was over a foot long and as big around as my skinny little thighs...

While I was watching Zak, I became distracted by the tightness in my cut-offs and t-shirt, which was getting worse... it wasn't long before I heard a big 'rip' sound - the seat of my cut-offs had split... the legs too. The stretchier t-shirt was soon to follow... I listened as mercifully, the restricting fabric began to give way to the apparently unstoppable force of my new growing muscles... Suddenly, I became aware of Zak again... he was furiously jerking on his giant cock, and had begun to thrust his hips back and forth in time with his hand movements... he'd begun to groan as well... suddenly, without warning, he shot a gooey white substance out of his cock - it covered my face and chest, dribbling down to my crotch... I tried to lick it off my mouth, but couldn't open my mouth... Zak grabbed the kerchief he'd used before and wiped my face clean...

Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over. I was sore - like I'd been running and lifting and doing lots of heavy work... I was sore from head to toe...

"Shiiiiit! Dem things did a number on you! Wow!" Zak said - his giant member still at attention.

I looked down at my body for the first time; my shirt was gone - in shreds behind me on the tree stump. What was left of my cut-offs and briefs were in shreds about my waist. I, too, had a giant cock, which now stood proudly at a 45-degree angle to my cobblestone waist. I could just barely make my waist out below my mammoth chest - it was that big! I felt like I could do anything, lift anything, bend anything, but most of all, I wanted to screw something! Zak was only too happy to oblige...

"You gonna need to fuck now... iffen you don't you gonna get sick..." Zak said. He dropped his jeans, stepped out of them, and walked over to the stump where I was still sitting... he straddled my legs and lowered his butt down onto my mammoth overly anxious cock... using his ample musculature, he pumped his huge, muscular body up and down on my cock... in no time at all, I shot my first load up that kid's ass. Damn, what a feeling!

When Zak dismounted me, he said, "Now, you gots to return the favor." I didn't know what he meant at first, but he took me in his powerful hands and turned me around - immediately shoving his giant cock up my ass... I'd have thought that would be painful, but as it turned out, it was the most pleasurable thing I'd experienced since shoving my own cock up HIS ass! Zak got his rocks off, and when he was done, pulled off me.

"You gonna wanna lift things now... iffen you don't you gonna get sick..." He was right - I HAD to see how strong I was... There was a huge old southern pine about 4 feet from the stump I was sitting on - the trunk about four feet in diameter - the tree easily 75 to 100 feet tall...

"Zak, is that one of the trees you're gonna get rid of?" I asked. Zak nodded.

I stood up, walked to the tree, bent at the knees, and put my arms around as much of the trunk as I could... then, I just stood up - the tree ripped right out of the ground, but it was top-heavy - and began to fall backwards towards the small shack... Zak rushed over, and helped me twist it around so that it could fall into the yard, rather than onto the house. I couldn't believe it! I'd just uprooted a fully-grown tree - by pulling it right out of the ground! Not only that, it felt as though it weighed nothing!

"C'mon, follow me." Zak said, as he headed to the opposite corner of the yard, to a gate I'd not previously noticed... through the gate he went, and I followed. We walked into a big lot, filled with old rusted hunks of metal... it took a moment or two to realize that these hunks of metal had, at one time, been cars... there were a few old wrecks further into this lot. That's where we headed. Zak said, "This is where Pa and I work-out."

Zak squatted down and put his right hand under an old Buick... he grabbed hold of the frame and just lifted - the car flipped over with no effort. I got the idea...

For the next hour or so, we demolished and compressed a dozen or more of the old wrecks on that lot... it was particularly satisfying to fold the cars in on themselves... pushing them against each other, until they collapsed like an accordion... we were in a frenzy of destruction and sex... destroying cars, and shooting our loads, whether into each other's various body orifices or just out in the open spraying our loads across the dusty, rusty wrecks - it seemed to go hand in hand with the wanton destruction of these old wrecks. I was having the time of my life. During that all-too-brief encounter with young Zak, I knew I'd made a friend for life, though I doubted I'd ever see him again. Unfortuantely, all good things must end. And end it did, when we heard, "Boys - git back in here... dis man wants ta leave!"

I looked at Zak. What was I going to do? I had no clothes, and surely, I'd get my butt beat for getting all big and strong... then it hit me! Jim would never again humiliate me, he'd never again lift a hand towards me, and I'd rule the roost from now on...

Zak said, "Pa'll have some shorts you can wear, jes wait..." Zak headed towards the gate into his yard... he walked through the gate, "Pa, Dirk needs some pants..." just as I followed him through the gate...

Ezekiel looked at us, then at me specifically, "I reckon he does, at that! Hol' on..." and he disappeared inside... moments later, he reappeared at the backdoor... he tossed me a pair of cut-offs and a t-shirt, not unlike what I'd arrived in, just much bigger... I stepped into the cut-offs, and pulled the giant t-shirt over my head.

"Son, you go easy on your daddy, you hear? I think he means well, he jes don' know no better." Ezekiel says to me. I heard the truck's horn... Jim was already in the truck, impatient and ready to go...

As I walked towards the gate, Zak ran up to me, "Here, take 'em." He held out two handfuls of the mushrooms.

I took them from him and pocketed them, "Thanks. I love mushrooms, especially these!" I leaned in to Zak and planted a big kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, Zak. I hope we get to see each other again soon." Knowing full well, I'd likely never see the muscle-bound kid again.

Of course, I was wrong. But that, as they say, is another story. •

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