By Also_KnownAs

Kenneth Templeton arrived home to the large three-bedroom, two-bath house he shared with his lover of 15 years, Kelly Hourihan. They met in a sex club on Market Street during a banker’s conference in San Francisco, finding out only later that they lived within a few miles of each other back in Denver. He was a 54-year-old bank executive, out and proud, not very active in his community but extremely pleased with his lawn. He set his briefcase down on the couch and yelled out, “Where the hell did you find those two?” Kelly’s voice came back from the living room where he had spent the last hour peeking through the blinds at the two young men in the front yard mowing and cleaning out the flower beds. “Hush, Kenneth! They’ll hear you!” “Oh. My. God. What are you doing?” “What do you think I’m doing? I’m copping a cheap thrill is what I’m doing. It’s what 56-year-old queens do. We look because we can’t touch, and we look from behind curtains so the beautiful young men we’re looking at don’t think we’re sad old queers with twink fetishes.” “Kelly,” Kenneth said, pulling back the curtain and pointing at one of the shirtless wonders outside currently wiping his sweaty brow as his broad, muscular chest gleamed with sweat, “I would hardly call that a twink. If anything, that’s a hunk.” “Two hunks,” Kelly corrected, grabbing the curtain back.

“Is he still watching?” Bobby stopped mowing and walked toward Joe. They had the volume on their bodies turned way down, to at least approach normalcy, if one were a 19-year-old 290 lbs bodybuilder standing 6’4” high with bright blue eyes, jet black curling hair, darkly tanned skin, silver dollar nipples and an ass so tight you could bounce pennies off it. “Yeah, but I think that other dude is trying to stop him.” “What the fuck for?” Joseph was similarly displayed in restrained muscular glory. He was the same height as Bob, but looked slightly wider. His body bulged everywhere, particularly in the crotch of his shorts, his cockhead almost dangling out of the hem, its outline prominently displayed pressing eagerly against the cotton. He had green eyes, blonde hair to his shoulders, and so much muscle packed on his frame it was a wonder his skin didn’t split. Bobby shrugged the masses of his shoulders. His back muscles joined in for good measure. “Dunno. Maybe we should ask!” “Play it cool, bro! You know what Chuck said.” “Yeah. And he is the master. But, Jesus, two hours of fucking mowing? I thought I was done with this shit.” “The longer the wait, the sweeter the prize.” Joseph looked at the window. “I think they’re still there. Why don’t we, you know, pump it up just a little.” Bobby reached down and tugged at the crotch of his skin-tight jeans. “About fucking time. I’m dying in here! Keeping the monsters at bay is tough!” “No, not that. You’re big enough, you’re almost busting through your fly.” “Look who’s talking!” "No, I mean let’s have a little pose-off. Strut the goods a little.” “Ooooh, so, like, get their old dicks hard?” Joe winked and leaned in, giving Bobby a kiss on his mouth. “Exactly.”

“My God, did you see that?” “I saw that.” “They kissed!” “They did.” “My God.” “So what?” “So what?!? Jesus, Kenneth, is it dead down there? We have two young, strapping, half-naked, sexually charged homosexual males in our front yard!” “And?” “And?!? And let’s get them inside the house!” “Jesus.” Kenneth was looking through the window again, and his mouth went suddenly dry. “What is your prob… Jeeezus!”

Joe was bent over touching his toes. His ass was pointed at the window. His ample basket was bursting at last, the head of his fat prick and about two inches of shaft shoving into the open air. Bobby bent his frame back and forth on his hips. His arms were bent, his hands clasped behind his head, and his biceps bulged obscenely. The cobblestone of his 8-pack flexed and stretched, and as he bent backwards, the button fly on his jeans popped one… two… three buttons open. He was not wearing underwear.

“Holy…” “Fuck…” From inside, the two men watched as the twin teen wonders laughed and helped each other tuck their massive male equipment back inside their pants. One of them, the brunette, lifted his hand to his face and licked his palm clean. The other one, the blonde, dug his hand deeply into his shorts to adjust himself, then he rubbed a glistening trail of something across the width of his chest. The brunette was then leaning against the willow, obscured slightly by the swinging branches, and he said something the two men couldn’t quite hear. The other boy dropped his rake and walked over to him under the tree, his ass moving like he knew someone was watching. They spoke with each other for a few moments, then the blonde leaned in, planted his hands on the tree trunk on either side of the other muscled hunk’s head, and they started to make out. To very seriously make out. “Is he…?” “I think he is.” He was. Bobby reached forward and pulled open Joe’s jeans. The muscles of his arms and back flexed and bulged as he did it. He was reaching forward, then, and pushing his hand down the other man’s pants and then his arm was slowly, very slowly, jerking back and forth. “Um, let’s offer them a cool drink.” “Excellent suggestion. And let’s do it before the neighbors call in the authorities and we’re all busted for indecent exposure.”

Miller Constantine walked into the men’s room at the Olive Garden in a suburb of Cleveland and was already unzipping his fly before he noticed that there was someone else already using the facilities. The other man was intimidating to say the least. It looked as if the shirt he was wearing was losing its battle to keep him contained. The seams along his wide back were stretched to the breaking point, and it appeared to be a size or two too small anyway, judging by how it was riding up his body like that.

For that matter, he thought, those pants aren’t fitting very well, either. Miller could see ample buttcrack peaking over the waistband, plus the looks of them along the man’s muscular thighs brought to mind the phrase “painted on.” It looked, in fact, as if the man had somehow “hulked out” between the time he put on his clothes that morning and standing there pissing into the urinal now.

Miller felt a little jingle in his own jeans, but this dude was waaaaay out of his league. He was a 37-year-old deeply closeted substitute teacher. 5 foot nothing, 100 lbs soaking wet. He spent hours online ogling men such as this one, dreaming what it would be like to spend even a few minutes worshiping them. But he never explored the fantasy. Surely men such as that only wanted other men such as that.

Besides, there was no way that guy was gay.

Intimidated, and a little scared, Miller started to retreat into the stall to empty his bladder rather than waiting for the sole urinal when the massive man looked over, meeting his stare.

His neck was thick. Miller could see the tendons and muscle stretch. He had a rough look to his face, rugged and striking. His chin and cheeks were coated with a brush of dark whiskers, tightly trimmed, and he had full lips and a broad, handsome nose. His eyes were dark, but there was a sparkle to them, something bright and mischievous dancing there. “Hey,” he said, “I’m almost done.”

“Uh, no problem,” he answered. His voice sounded meek. “I can use the toilet.”

The man smiled and turned slightly, revealing the size of his prick. Like the rest of him, it was massive. Miller tried not to look at it, tried not to give himself away, but he felt as if the guy wanted him to look, like he was showing it to him. “I’ll just be another second. Can you hold it?”

He grinned when he asked the question. Could Miller hold it? Hell yes, Miller could hold it! Miller wanted to grab onto it and suck on it until his mouth was filled with salty cum. “Uh, really, I’ll just…”

The man squeezed out the last few squirts. Miller could see the streams, and they looked curiously clear. There was a smell in the small tiled room, and it didn’t smell like piss. “What’s your name?”


The man turned fully toward him now, holding his cock in his hand. The tip was glistening. He rubbed his thumb across the flaring head. He had a wide, mushroom tip. “Your name. You have one, right?”

Miller gulped hard. “M… Miller.” He found himself staring at that prick. There was a deep, dark forest of fur behind his grip. It crawled up his groin and narrowed toward his navel. The shirt was so small, Miller could see two hard bricks of his well-trained ab muscles.

“Miller, my man. I’m horny as hell. You want to suck this fat cock?” Chuck’s smile spread across his face. He was still rubbing the head. The shaft was lengthening in his grip, and his equipment was starting to arch upwards.


“Yeah, Miller. You want to suck my cock?” He took a step forward. “Think you can handle it?” Another step. “Ever suck a cock before, Miller?”

He nodded. He didn’t even know why he did, but he did. The man towered over him.

“Ever suck one this big?” He pushed his crotch forward, jutting the mile-long, fat cock into Miller’s body. The smaller man shook his head, dazed at the size of it. “Don’t worry about that, Miller. I’m sure you’ll manage fine. You’re going to swallow the whole thing, aren’t you? You’re going to open your mouth wide and feel the hard heat of me pushing against the roof of your mouth, and your tongue, and the back of your throat. But you’ll love it, won’t you Miller. You’ll hunger for more.

“You’ll feel me swelling inside you, getting harder and harder, fucking your warm, wet mouth until I’m ready to cum. But I won’t cum just yet. I’ll let my load build. Bigger and bigger. Right Miller? Bigger and bigger. My balls will swell and droop with hot cum, and you’ll ache for it, you’ll want it all so bad. So you’ll keep sucking, and I keep getting harder, and fatter, and then my cockhead will swell against your throat, you’ll taste the salty essence and feel the ridge flare and the whole mushroom head swell and then you’ll feel the hot jets of cream flooding into you. You’ll hear me cumming. I’m like a hose. I’m a fucking hydrant, Miller. I cum buckets. And you’ll swallow it all, right? You’ll swallow every drop of my thick, creamy cum and you’ll love every fucking second of it, won’t you Miller?”

He swallowed hard and nodded again. His mouth had fallen open, and his breathing was shallow.

“I knew I’d found the right man for the job. Lock the door, Miller.”


He pointed with his free hand. “The door? I don’t know about you, but I always like a little privacy when I’m getting a blow job.” He was standing next to Miller now, he smelled like sex. “Call me old fashioned.”

Miller reached behind him and twisted the bolt. “Excellent,” Chuck purred. “Well done.” Miller dropped to his knees. “Miller, my man, this is going to change your life.”

Stan and Todd looked like 20-year-old college bodybuilders. They’d compacted as much of their brawn as they could into as small a package as practical, but with Transform swimming through every cell in their systems, there was only so much they could manage. They stood behind a narrow counter with a somewhat dirty Formica surface. They were wearing polyester uniforms and paper hats. The clothing clung to their contours like second skins, the buttons of their tunics straining to burst. Their nipples pushed hard against the blue material, and their asses and cocks filled the pants to near bursting. “Okay,” sighed Todd, “tell me again what we’re doing here?” Stan was giddy. He was practically hopping up and down with glee. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Oh, I can’t wait!” Todd picked at one of his sleeves testily. “Honestly, I don’t get it. We’re supposed to be fast food jockeys in some hole in the wall burger joint. How is that, in any way, sexy?” Stan huffed out an impatient sigh. “It’s not the clerk part or the burgers or the clothes. Well, it kind of is, but it’s not just that part. See, it’s mundane, right?” “I’ll say.” He rolled his eyes. “So no one’s expecting anything to happen, right? So then when something starts happening, like we go all Transform on his ass and make him get all, you know, hot and bothered and whatnot, and then… you’re not even listening!” “I think the fries are done.”

“I have to tell you, you’re a lot hotter than your picture.” “Thanks.” “I mean, a LOT more.” “You’re nice to say so.” “No, really dude. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten up the courage to, like, actually meet some guy from instead of hanging out in those chat rooms waiting for someone to ping me. And then you did and I opened up your profile, y’know, like you do, check the dude out, whatever, hope he’s not too freaky, has a face pic, blah blah blah.” “Uh huh.” “Especially with that screen name.” “Right.” “Moose.” “It’s a nickname.” “And so I see your mug staring back at me and I’m like, ‘Damn, bitch! Look at this dude!’ and, you know, you didn’t have a lot to say but with a face like that, y’know, hey, let’s chat some, right?” “Right.” “And then you were even, like, smart and stuff? And you were nice and not many guys are, like, nice. Just, y’know, nice?” “Thank you. You’re nice, too.” “But when I was waiting outside? Out front? And then you walk up and you’re like, ‘Benny?’ and I’m like, ‘Moose?’ and you nod and you smile and then you came up and hugged me like that, so tight and you smelled so good and all. And then that kiss. I wasn’t expecting that. And you were so, like… big. Y’know? You’re really… big.” “Big?” “Hard. I mean Muscley. And big. And tall! Like, you must be at the gym all the time, dude.” “Not really.” “Shit, I should shut up. You’re probably thinking, ‘Dude, what am I doing here with this guy?’” “Not at all.” “I’m sorry, I’m just, like, surprised and all. And a little, like, nervous.” “Do I make you nervous?” “Well, yeah. A little. It’s not your fault though! I kinda get this way around guys I think are hot for some reason. Know how that is? You see some guy and he, like, makes you feel all hot, all horny, and all’s you wanna do is, like talk to him and get to know him and… stuff… and then you go all stupid and say stupid shit or run off at the mouth.” “Like now.” “Yeah. Sorry. You look… a LOT better than your picture.” “Well, I have to be honest with you. No, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. That’s not my picture. I didn’t have any pictures of myself, so I borrowed one that I thought kind of looked like my face.” “Dude, you should take some pictures of yourself. I mean, get some better fitting clothes and all, ‘course with a body like yours it’s probably hard to find stuff that looks good and still fits.” “It can be a challenge.” “No shit. Looks like you’re about to split some seams. It’s kinda hot.” “You like muscles?” “Oh, yeah! But, you know, the big dudes, they kinda ignore me and stuff. I go to the gym, of course. I mean, like, who doesn’t, right? But I still end up looking like this.” “You’re very handsome, Benny.” “Me? Nah. But you’re fucking gorgeous. Seriously, get a webcam or something and just snap a few. Hell, I have a digicam back at the apartment you could totally use.” “Back at your apartment?” “Yeah, dude, it’s pretty sweet. Real simple. Just point and click.” “Sounds simple enough.” “Yeah, it is. Are you going to, like, eat something?” “I’m not really very hungry for food. You said the camera is back at your apartment?” “Uh huh. A few blocks over. Up the hill a little.” “Think we could go up there now? You can take some pictures of me if you want to.” “Really? Moose, dude, that would be sweet!” “Or you could just fuck me.” “I… what?” “I could fuck you, but I’m a little worried that you wouldn’t find it as pleasant unless you fucked me first.” “” “You’re awfully quiet all the sudden, Benny.” “Did you say ‘fuck me’?” “I did.” “Just now?” “Moments ago.” “To me?” “Yes.” “Wait, so you’re a bottom?” “I’m very versatile, but I think under the circumstances we’ll both enjoy it more if you fuck me.” “Under the circumstances?” “Remember your comment earlier? About me being big?” “Yeah.” “I’m very big, Benny.” “Yeah?” “Very. Big.” “Check, please!”

Frank Ryan stood up and grabbed the 20 off the sofa as he stood and moved across the living room. “Hey!” he said, cheerfully, as he opened the door. “Hi. It’s $18.” Frank was frozen in place. There was a muscular behemoth standing at the threshold of his dorm room. The guy had to be six and a half feet tall. The black tank top he wore barely covered the yards of muscle stretched across his high, wide frame. He made the large pizza look like a small. “Hello?” He waved his hand in front of Frank’s face, a grin spreading over his luscious lips. “You okay?” “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I, uh… 18?” He nodded and raised a hand to brush the chestnut locks from his forehead. His eyes were green and the ball of his bicep bulged massively. “Yeah.” He handed the pizza to Ryan and stuffed the 20 in his pants. Ryan followed the trajectory of his lucky Jackson and watched it get tucked in beside something long and think and tubular with a flaring mushroom head that was shoved down the guy’s right thigh. “You need change?” When Ryan looked at his face again, the grin had grown into a smile. “No. Nope. No, I’m good.” He pulled in a long, sighing breath. “I’m really, really good.” The guy nodded. “Um, sorry to ask you this but I been out delivering for a few hours without a bio break. D’you mind if I used your…?” “My what?” “Your facilities?” The pizza delivery guy grabbed his crotch in illustration, and there was a lot of it to grab. Ryan noticed that the hem of his tank top was an inch higher than his hip-hugging jeans, and a dark wealth of pubic fur sprouted in heavy abundance along the line of his waistband. The two thick muscles of his internal intercostals stretched like a pointing V into his loins. “The john?” He nodded. Something sparkled in his eyes. The locks of soft, straight hair fell back across his forehead again. “Sure, no problem. It’s probably kinda messy, though.” “Whatever, dude,” he replied, already opening the front of his jeans to reveal more of that dark, silken hair and the fat root of what was tucked down his pantleg. “I gotta piss like a racehorse.” Ryan pointed and the guy walked toward the open bathroom door. He watched his firm, round butt bob and flex and then suddenly the guy had his pants off his hips and Ryan saw the smooth, almost polished looking flesh that covered the most perfect ass he’d ever seen in his life. Tommy left the door open and cast a quick glance back into the living room to make sure his audience was still watching. He stood in the center of the tiled bathroom floor, poised near the toilet, and dropped his pants to his knees. Then he hefted the amazing colossal prick into his hands and pointed the monster at the bowl. “It isn’t so dirty,” he said lightly. “You should see my place.” Ryan sat on the couch with the hot pizza on his lap. But it wasn’t the hottest thing in his lap at the moment. “No?” He attempted another glance at the guy and was rewarded with a sight he would never forget. He gulped hard. “Heh heh.” Tommy looked out and made sure to make eye contact as he stood there, half naked, holding his huge dick, pissing into Ryan’s toilet. “You know how it is. Not a lot of time for the details.” He looked down at his beast as he finished the thought. “It’s like anything else, I guess. No time, can’t stop to smell the roses or whatever. It’s like you have to grab your chance when it comes.” Ryan wasn’t sure he heard that right. The dude really was pissing like a race horse. Then there was silence. “Huh?” “I said you gotta be aware of stuff, take advantage of your opportunities when they’re staring you in the face.” Ryan turned. Tommy was standing in the bathroom doorway. He was naked. His arms reached up and his hands were grasping the doorframe as he leaned slightly into the room. His biceps and triceps stood out starkly, fat bulging bellies of muscle flexing with subdued power. The dark fur in his moist pits was sending out waves of thick pheromones, and he smelled like raw sex. The taper of his upper body formed a perfect V. His 6-pack abs slowly flexed in and out as he breathed. His magnificent cock stretched out before him like an invitation. “Know what I mean?”

Curtis Lewis pushed his very old, should be abandoned, barely surviving the journey 1984 Mazda 626 along the desert highway with his foot on the gas and his eyes on the water temperature. There wasn’t any AC in the car anyway, so there was nothing to turn off to save some cool. He had all the windows wound down except the left back one, which wouldn’t. The trunk and back seat were filled with large plastic garbage bags containing everything he owned.

A new life was what he needed. The old one just didn’t want to work out for him. He hated that job anyway. He wanted to be a writer. He’d even managed to grab a few freelance gigs here and there, though his true passion wasn’t reporting or interviewing, it was fiction. But making a living that way… well, he might as well have wanted to be Superman.

He was going from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, hoping that Sin City held better prospects for him, and that the car he bought off Craig’s List would last another 100 miles to just get him there. He could be a waiter or a bellhop or even a bartender. Bartending couldn’t be that hard, could it? How many drinks could there really be, anyway?

The highway was a very long, very hot, very flat strip of nothing in the middle of a lot of other nothing. In the middle of summer, in the middle of the week, in the middle of a heat wave, it was deserted. He hadn’t seen another car since Barstow, and the sweat pouring off his 29-year-old body wasn’t just from the heat, it was also from the height of the water temp needle as it approached the red line.

So he almost missed the site of hitchhiker standing at the side of the road until he nearly passed him completely. This was significant for at least three reasons; first, there was no city within miles, or any other roads, or any other cars. Second, the man was completely naked. Third, and perhaps most significantly, he was about the biggest, broadest, most muscular and spectacular looking man that Curtis had ever seen.

But something in his make-up – either the fact that anything out of the ordinary drew his attention like a bee to honey, or the fact that he hadn’t had sex with anyone except that really bad one night stand with the guy he picked up at the bar on La Cienega who ended up smelling like hell and had the smallest dick in the L.A. basin – made him slam his foot on the brakes, locking them up as he sped along at 60 MPH, twisting the car back and forth until it came to rest a couple hundred feet up the 2-lane highway sitting sideways on the shoulder facing away from the highway.

He was breathing hard, still gripping the steering wheel with both hands, fresh sweat pouring off his body, when an unusually handsome face appeared in the passenger side window and asked, “Are you all right?”

The voice was resonant with masculine command. It was like being addressed by a mountain, or an earthquake. He couldn’t answer right away. He was still out of breath. The naked man reached his heavily muscled and incredibly defined arm into the car and pressed his cool palm against Curtis’s face. A sudden and overwhelming sense of sexual pleasure coursed through him, as if emanating from that touch. His dick grew painfully hard in his pants, inflating to full erection all at once, but his breathing slowed down. It didn’t much help with the whole sweating part, though. That voice said, “Hello?”

Curtis turned toward the voice and followed the line of that arm and all its bulging glory to where it connected with a massive shoulder, and further on to a substantial and amazingly arched trap, followed closely by a thick and strong neck, connecting unerringly to a face that only a Roman god should possess. Then the Roman god smiled and Curtis felt himself squirting a sudden load of hot cream into his pants.

The eyes inside the Roman god’s face glanced down at the spreading dark stain and the smile on his perfect countenance grew incandescent. “Oh, I guess you are all right.” He removed his hand and stood up from his crouch, perfectly framing his huge, fat, beautifully formed set of cock and balls in the window before he pulled the car door open and sat his god’s ass on Curtis’s torn upholstery. His prick, fat and wondrous and seemingly semi-hard, lay thickly across one muscled thigh. It looked delicious. “Was that my fault?” he asked. His voice rattled the broken lighter sitting in the ashtray.

Curtis couldn’t seem to remember how to talk all the sudden. His hands still held the steering wheel and his whole body felt tense. The hardness of his prick wasn’t diminishing and the feeling of his load in his jeans was sticky and warm. “That can’t be very comfortable,” the naked man observed. The top of his head was brushing the ceiling. He was wide enough that his shoulder rubbed against Curtis’s, so when the man reached over and pulled open his button fly with a deft skill, Curtis was pushed slightly aside.

The man reached into Curtis’s pants and moved his grip onto Curtis’s hard cock, extracting it from the confines and pulling it up. “There. Better?” His prick was coated in cum, and the man slowly started to stroke him. That feeling of his body being flushed with erotic pleasure returned, stronger this time, and his dick seemed to swell even larger. “I feel sort of responsible for this,” the man said, “Do you mind if I clean you up?”

Curtis watched his head dipping down to his crotch and felt his cock enveloped by the Roman god’s mouth. His eyes rolled up inside his head from the intense pleasure being delivered from the muscular man’s talented body. Waves of sexual bliss were thrumming through his body, and it felt like his cock was growing inside the man’s mouth.

The Roman god moaned deeply. Curtis felt the vibration to his toes. The god’s mouth moved to swallow his entire hard prick, rubbing the helmet against the back of his throat. Curtis raised his hips to test the waters. The god slipped his hand under Curtis’s butt and gently prodded him to start eagerly fucking his face.

Curtis reached backwards and grabbed onto the headrest, arching his back and shoving his cock deeply into the man’s mouth. He looked down to watch the collection of enormous muscle flex and bulge with every suck of his hard dick. It felt like the guy’s tongue was slurping against his balls. There was a ripping sound and the tongue slipped into his ass. Curtis had no idea how this was possible. The god seemed to be sucking his cock and rimming his butthole at the same time.

But maybe that was normal for a god.

He felt the silver tingle of his balls and the racing pleasure of orgasm moving up his shaft. He was very, very close to losing his second load of cream when the guy’s face appeared before his with a cum-coated smile on his lips. “Not yet,” he said. “Can you hold on? I’m really enjoying this.”

“I’m… not sure.”

The god winked at him. “It’ll really be worth it. Trust me.” He stroked Curtis’s rock-hard cock in his grip. A shudder of intense pleasure sang through him. “Okay?”

Curtis nodded. The god swallowed him again and he strained not to cum. He tensed his ass and shut his eyes and did everything he could do to not cum, to please the god. His load was building beyond containment. A shining, thunderous orgasmic bliss swelled in his cock. He absolutely had to cum. “I’m… I can’t…”

“Mm hmm,” the god acknowledged, still sucking hard against Curtis’s painfully hard erection. Then he lifted his mouth off the cock and said, his voice reverberating through the small car, “I understand. Just be prepared, okay?”

“What?” He looked down. His hands were gripping the seat hard. A hot, thick announcement of the coming tide flowed down the shaft. “For what?”

The naked god winked at him and moved his mouth back over Curtis’s prick, swallowing him whole. And Curtis came.

The world exploded with pleasure. That tongue, pliable and hot and wet and wonderful, was shoving itself deeply into his ass. He was being sucked and fucked simultaneously by one guy in the front of his small Japanese sedan. It felt like he was cumming so hard, it was a miracle he hadn’t blown the back of the guy’s skull off. Stars formed in his vision and then blackness overcame everything and his body and brain was drowning in perfect, overwhelming, deeply intense orgasmic bliss.

He shot a dozen times. Over and over. The god sucked it all down, seeming almost to pull his cum from his balls, sucking him dry. He felt every spurting joyful second of it, until he felt a thorough and completely satisfying sense of fulfillment flooding through him and he collapsed back onto the seat. His clothing was soaked through with sweat, and his hair was plastered to his head.

“Mmm,” said the naked god, sitting up and licking his lips. “That was great.” He looked over, leaning his lips toward Curtis’s mouth and kissed him passionately. Curtis could taste himself on the god's tongue. Then he whispered into his ear with his deep voice, saying, “Thank you,” before he stuck out his large hand and said, “Hi! My name’s Adam. What’s yours?”

“Just so I’m clear on this bet.” The other man nodded. “You’re not going to touch me, or even be near me, and you’re going to make me cum.” He nodded again. “That is the truth.” He smile and looked at his two equally handsome companions. “You will be cumming.” “And if I win, if I don’t cum, you’ll come home with me and Bruce.” “Yes. All of us will do so.” The other two men nodded. “And what happens if I do cum?” “We will discuss after you cum.” Jeremy looked at his partner. “What do you think? What’s the trick?” “Hell, I’m hard just looking at these dudes. I’m betting with them!” The three men exchanged glances. Something silent seemed to pass between the three gigantic men inside the dark bar. Then the one doing the talking, the guy with the glowing blonde crewcut and the absurdly sculpted cheekbones and the silver eyes, spoke again in his Russian accented speech. “Where do you want me?” “That’s a loaded question, but how ‘bout this. You go over there, by the jukebox, at the back of the bar. Over by the pool table.” Jeremy smiled. “And I’ll go stand outside.” “You are sure?” Bruce shook his head and gulped some more beer. “Oh, dude.” Jeremy slapped his partner on the back. “I got this all figured out, my man. There’s no way we’re going home without this trio for some long-lasting fun tonight!” He looked at the tall, wide-shouldered Russian again, offering his hand. “Is it a bet?” Wolf looked at the hand and grinned. “It is a bet,” he said, gripping the man’s hand with a very firm shake. “Shit! Man, I hope your butt is as tight as your grip!” Jeremy downed the last of his beer. “Okay, come and get me when you’re done with your trick.” “Unzip your pants,” Wolf advised him. “Yeah, right.” “It is your decide, but my advice is to unzip your pants and allow your cock outside.” He tilted his head slightly. “You will be cumming very hard.” “Yeah, Jer, pull out your big ol’ dick and let some of the guys refamiliarize themselves with the beast!” Bruce was laughing as Jeremy sauntered out the door onto the back patio. He waved at a couple of friends he knew and went over to explain what was going on. He did not appear to be unzipping anything. Bruce looked at Wolf. “So, what’s the trick?” “Is no trick. Is talent.” He smiled brightly, leaning forward slightly. “Like a sample?” Bruce laughed and reached forward, cupping Wolf’s ample basket in his hand. A look of shock passed over his face. The bar was dark, but there was no denying that the muscular Russian was packing some major heat. It swelled even larger against his hand. He could feel the fat helmet shoving against the guy’s pants. “Fuck, dude, all you need to do is pull that out to get me creaming.” Wolf smiled. “Is much easier. Here.” Bruce’s whole body suddenly heated up and he sucked in a deep breath. He felt his scalp tighten and his ears pin back and his balls seize up and as he shut his eyes tightly and threw back his head, opening his mouth to gulp in more air, he felt a quick, hard, enormous kick in his libido and his G-Stars were suddenly filled with a heavy load of warm wetness. “The hell?” he whispered, gripping the edge of the bar hard. His cock was painfully hard, it didn’t seem to want to diminish. “Is talent,” Wolf whispered back, then he turned his attention to Jeremy. “Your friend will enjoy?” “Holy fuck.” Tenzin and Butch rumbled out heavy, soft mounds of laughter. Butch said, “I help you clean up,” and he pulled Bruce’s stool out from the bar and circled around in front of him. He reached down and pulled the crotch of Bruce’s jeans wide and lowered his mouth to his dick and balls and started to lick the man’s groin clean. Bruce came again in Butch’s mouth.

“He’s gonna what?” Jeremy laughed loudly. “He’s gonna make me cum.” “What’s the trick? He give you something?” “Nope. I watched. Nothing in my drink. The dude never even touched me. Me and Bruce saw him and his two pals come in and immediately we wanted them over to the house for some fun. These guys – you won’t belieeeeve them! They look like….” “They look like what? Well? What do they look like? Jeremy? Jer? You okay?” Inside, Wolf was grinning as he leaned back against the bar, watching Butch swallowing Bruce’s cock. He was sending a hard, firm, powerful instruction to Jeremy’s sexual pleasure center. It was like a bolt of lightning, super-charged, and perfectly aimed. Jeremy’s body felt bathed in pleasure. His friends caught him before his knees gave way and they held him as he was delivered into male erotic heaven. Everything felt good – better than good. Better than anything, and then it all started to zero in on his crotch. He cock felt heavy, hard, fat and hot. It shoved against his jeans insistently, painfully, rock hard in a breath. He clawed at his pants, couldn’t even remember he had a belt on, all he wanted was to be naked. Gloriously, completely naked, because his entire body was being licked and caressed, and his cock was inside the warmest, wettest, tightest ass in the world, his entire shaft tingled and throbbed, the head was a shining, everlasting orgasmic conduit, every millimeter delivering overwhelming blasts of sexual bliss that erupted through him. A cock was fucking his ass. A hard, thick, long prick that could find every erogenous zone, every highly-sensitized point inside his butt. A hot, wet tongue was simultaneously licking his ballsack and his asshole. He could feel the heavy weight of a muscled body against his own. He was fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, unable to make his fingers work right, when the first load was delivered. It was huge. It gushed from his cock and spread inside his jeans and coated his balls. He gasped for air and his body went rigid and another orgasmic blast exploded inside him and his balls could do nothing but respond with another fat surge that flooded his crotch. Then another one. And another.

Wolf’s grin grew into a smile. “I did warn him,” he said softly.

Michael and Carlos sat quietly together on a park bench in the middle of Central Park. The sun was high overhead, and people strolled by seemingly oblivious to the pair of inhumanly beautiful men. Michael wore a pair of tan slacks and a cream colored short-sleeved shirt that made his bronze skin look slightly darker, the size of his broad chest shoving his nipples against the material. His wealth of hair was held back into a broad ponytail with a jeweled clip. Carlos wore a pair of dark cotton pants, a red crewneck T-shirt and a custom-fit wool blazer. His hand rested on Michael’s knee as they watched the human parade pass by. The Transformed men were now joined in a powerful mental network that allowed each to know where any of the others were. It was a bit like sifting through a magazine. Images flashing by, a word here or there, you might catch something in your inner-eye that captured your interest and linger there, or simply exist within the structure, comforted by the presence of so many others, all of whom loved you and would do anything for you. As each new man was added to the network, their knowledge and history and emotions and imagination entered the database. The number of Transformed men was growing faster than ever. And each was instantly and entirely altered into their genetically perfect self, massively muscled, super strong, enormously endowed twice over, and constantly aroused. Since abandoning the island, the Transformed became roving sex vagabonds, traveling the Earth by using the winds, touching down wherever fate might bring them, seducing and arousing whatever man caught their fancy. They were, as Chuck had suggested, everywhere. If Transform had one disadvantage, it was that they could rarely go unnoticed in society. Each of them was an uncommonly and astoundingly handsome man. None of them stood below 6’4” even when fully compacted, and their bodies could not help but display the extent of the awesome muscular development from which they each benefited.

“It is rather fascinating,” Carlos observed. Michael nodded an agreement. “I don’t suppose there’s another city where we could sit here in the open like this and be completely ignored.” “Well,” Carlos said, gesturing with his head, “not completely.” A young man on rollerblades had just passed them for the fourth time. He was now staring opening and lustfully at the pair. Michael squeezed Carlos’s leg gently. “An excellent candidate.” Carlos agreed. “A little young, though.” “True. But we’ll ask him the usual questions and see if he’s amenable.” “You mean, ‘Would you like to look like us? Would you like to be able to have sex constantly, with anyone you chose? Would you be willing to give up everything you have to join a group of similarly gifted men, all with these muscles, and these dicks, and these abilities?’” “And when he asks ‘What abilities?’” Carlos looked over. “That’s when we defy gravity.” “Always the dealbreaker.” “Funny how that works.” They stood up and approached him, smiling their perfect smiles, walking their masculine walks, bulging their massive muscles. Another seduction had begun. •

This collection was originally created as a compressed archive for personal offline viewing
and is not intended to be hosted online or presented in any commercial context.

Any webmaster choosing to host or mirror this archive online
does so at their sole discretion.

Archive Version 070326