Hustler Sinbad: Book Two: Karl

Becoming Sinbad


By Jason Jarman

Ever since I got my belt back, I’ve been super-careful about it. You might have read a story in the papers, sometime back, about an incident of mass destruction in Chicago. Well, that was me.

I've kept a low profile for the last year. I wear and use the belt every day, but I'm careful. I'm also the guy who's ripped out about 100 ATM machines in the past year. I always set them up in advance. I wear a hoodie and shades when I smash the camera lens. Then one quick tug of the belt gives me the strength to help myself to a wad of cash.

I've seen the newspapers recently. That bit about the wrecking ball, and then the thing about the house thrown in the air. I recognize the strength it takes to do those two jobs. Literally, I felt like someone was stealing my thunder. But I had my belt around my waist 24/7, and I knew it wasn't me.

So here's how I got my hands on this lovely piece of power:

I was 17 then, and not doing so good. My father was, and still is, a drunk, and my mother checked out on us when I was 11. I was left alone most of the time. I was good in school, and I guess that studying kept me sane. But I was bored, and I started to do things to see if I would get caught.

An easy way to get some quick cash was to hang out in the woods behind the big shopping mall. There were always some guys, young and old, who were looking for action. I liked having my dick sucked. To get paid for something I enjoyed... well, it's the definition of the perfect job, isn't it?

The house I found the belt in belonged to this Middle Eastern dude who was an antique dealer. Khali was his name. I met Khali at the mall, at the Chic-Fil-A restaurant, after I'd increased my income.

Khali liked skinny high-school boys. He was nice to me. He became my exclusive customer. We met five nights a week, so he could suck my dick and sometimes fuck me. He fed me and sometimes let me sleep in the guest bedroom. He liked to smoke hash, and he got me high all the time.

One evening, after Khali had made me come three times, he got baked on hash and got all teary-eyed. Then he started drinking. He was out of this world.

He mentioned something about a special belt in the basement, in an old steamer trunk. He mumbled something about a secret cult in Morocco, and that the belt had incredible powers, but that he was too old to use it. “Karl, dear, I want you to have it. But return here, after you have harnessed its power, so I can see with my own eyes Sinbad The Sailor.”


“Dearest, I’m feeling most faint…”

Khali passed out, and of course I snuck down in the basement. His words were all a jumble, but what the fuck? This thing he went on about might be valuable. I could sell it to someone.

I pried the trunk open and there it was, all by itself. The belt was wrapped around two little metal cases, each with two syringes, and a set of instructions printed on this real thin paper.

The shiny leather smelled really, really good. It was sweet and rich and made me feel high. My cock got rock hard just from the scent. And when I first saw the golden diamond shaped buckle, with the anchor and lightning bolts, I knew I was onto something. The surface of the buckle was crawling with these moving sparks and little electric bolts.

The second I touched the belt, the buckle sent out these electric waves and bolts of lightning into my body. I felt myself growing, and it was freaky.

I looked at my arms, and they were covered with big ropy veins. I had bulges of muscle covering the biceps and triceps and all that shit. And I felt really strong all of the sudden.

Then I opened the metal cases and read the paper. Ho-lee shit! I knew I was onto something really great. There was a nice pair of leather pants with a really tiny waist, and it said for me to wear these with the belt. The pants had super-wide belt loops that fit the belt. The thighs and crotch were really big and baggy. The crotch had snap buttons going all the way down. The pants smelled as sweet as the belt, and embossed on the ass cheeks were anchors and lightning bolts, just like on the belt buckle.

I did what the instructions said, although it didn’t say anything about the second set of syringes. What the fuck, I pumped them into my arms anyway. I felt this weird tingle run through my whole body.

I climbed into the leather pants. The waist was way too small for me, and the legs and crotch drooped down. I laced the belt through the loops and slid the leather under the golden buckle. It shot out bolts of white lightning from all four corners of the buckle. This intense crackling and squealing came out of the buckle. It hurt my ears.

Those bolts rushed into my body, making me feel stronger and stronger. My waist was small enough to comfortably fit the leather pants, and I noticed the crotch area was starting to fill out. My heart was pounding.

Finally, I uttered the words that would change my life forever:

Magic belt, this is Sinbad, your master. Give me the strength I deserve.

I began to tighten the belt. That buckle let loose with the fury of the universe. Booming, shattering bolts shot out of the buckle and banged all around the room. Every one of those bolts found its way into my biceps, my triceps, my pecs and my crotch. I looked down at the belt. I was past the first notch… past the second… the third, fourth and fifth. As I approached notch #6, the pull became difficult. My hands were wet with sweat. My whole body felt drenched.

I just tugged the leather past that notch and it started to tug back. I slapped down the buckle tooth and it stayed taut. The buckle let out a final blast of power bolts.

Can you imagine? In 30 seconds I was bigger and stronger than anyone else in the world.

I flexed my enormous biceps and felt the bulge of my giant cock. My waist was so tiny that the leather pants were baggy, except in the crotch and the legs, where the stitching was seriously stressed.

I unbuttoned the crotch and let my cock out. Damn, it sprang up to the bottom of my chest! It was big, thick, red, shiny and covered with knotted veins. My chest was so big that I could only see my cock in the space between the pecs.

I felt so super-strong. I saw a big marble sculpture, sitting in the center of the room, covered with a large oilcloth. I peeled off the cloth. It was taller than me, and looked heavy.

I lifted it so quickly that I threw myself off-balance. I fell back, and the statue hurtled down towards me. I held one hand up and stopped the statue. And then I lifted it over my head. It was like holding a ball of cotton. Damn, I was stoked!

I crept up the basement stairs. I entered the living room.

He had a big mirror in his living room, floor to ceiling, and I got a good look at myself. Damn! I was even bigger than I imagined myself. I turned to the mirror and flexed even harder, with the intention of turning myself on.

Then I noticed that my face was different. I wasn’t bad looking before, but the belt had made me look like some supermodel dude. I had reddish-blond hair, now down in shaggy bangs over my piercing blue-gray eyes, big thick red lips, a strong jaw and pronounced cheekbones. My neck was thicker than my head. Damn! The sight of myself made my cock get fully hard. I masturbated to my own reflection.

“Khali. Wake up. It’s Sinbad.” I stood in front of him and flexed my biceps.

Khali came out of his coma. He began to drool as his eyes widened into focus. He watched me beating the biggest, fattest meat in history. “Sinbad. It is you. Oh, mighty sailor. You have the strength of 1,000 mortal men flowing through your veins.”

Khali got on his knees and kissed my feet. “All worship the mighty sexgod Sinbad. Your magic belt makes you immortal. The anchor is your symbol of strength and stamina.” He was weeping.

“Hey, man, it’s OK. Take it easy.”

“I… I must ask you to let me see your strength. Just once, before I leave this mortal coil. Summon the ceaseless power of Sinbad’s magic belt.”

He wanted me to pull the magic belt tight. Easy enough. Once again, I repeated the incantation I’d learned:

Magic belt, this is Sinbad, your master. Give me the strength I deserve.

Khali muttered this phrase, under his breath, over and over. I tugged the slick leather even tighter this time, to the seventh… eighth… ninth notch. Past notches #10… 11… 12… finally I arrived at the last notch on the belt, lucky number 13. The tug was getting serious in the other direction, and I had to pull with both arms to get the belt just past the last notch so I could buckle it.

The bolts died down, although the buckle constantly shot out little fingers of lightning that went into my biceps and my cock. I flexed my biceps for him. My cock rose up to my lips. I sucked my own cockhead and tasted my sperm. It was sweet and invigorating.

“Oh, Sinbad, oh, holy cockgod. Please grant this mere mortal permission to feast on your holy nectar, on the elixir of life that summons from your holy enchanted penis.”

“Go on, man, there’s plenty to blow.”

He put his lips to the spouthole in my cock. He licked the warm sweet cum that constantly oozed out of my mighty meat. Then he uttered a phrase: SHALAH KARALI UTUM.

He said this five or six times and every time he said it I felt sexier and stronger. The buckle of my magic belt went haywire. And, best of all, the saying made new notches appear in the leather. I could pull the belt even tighter now and receive more of its power.

“My father’s father, and his father before him, they made this belt. It is one of 13 they made before the power killed them. The power of this belt comes from deep within the earth, and from deep within the sea. I was never told the combination of elements that forged the mighty anchor buckle. The leather was made from the skin of… well, it is best that you do not know."


"Sinbad, you are now an immortal musclegod. You will always remain young and strong. You are above the laws of mankind. The only way you can be stopped is if you are bound with leather belts, and your hands are above your head. Even then, your captors will not be able to utilize the power of the sailor’s belt. Its power is only for you. The belt is part of you. You are now a part of the belt.

“And now, as humble payment for this great gift I have bestowed upon you, I drink hungrily of your nectar…”

Khali blew me six times in a row. He guzzled my cum, and I was shooting by the quart every time I orgasmed. Finally, he gasped and fell back, a wild look in his eyes. My cum was streaked on his face. "Shalah karali utum," he uttered once more. And then he fell cold and silent.

Shit, he was dead! I picked him up and carried him to his bed. Then I bailed. No point in getting accused of murder. No one saw me come and go, but you never know when some sucker might remember some minor detail and pin you down.

Outside, it was warm and quiet. I unbuckled the magic belt. The strap wrapped around my waist two or three times, the end tucking itself in under the buckle. I got my cock to settle down enough that I could stuff it down my left pants leg. The head slapped against my inner thigh, right at the knee joint. I could see why parts of the leather pants were so baggy. I needed the room.

It was night and everyone was tucked into bed. "Fuck them," I thought. "I’m going to have some fun!"

I thought about what Khali said. I was the law, now. I called the shots. Not some drunken asshole who happened to be my father. Not the teachers at school, not the cops. Just me.

SHALAH KARALI UTUM, I said to myself, and I instantly felt more powerful. I looked down past my massive cock at the belt. The buckle was throbbing, getting bigger, and there were ten fresh notches, just waiting for me to use its endless power.

I wanted some cool stuff, so I broke into the mall. It had been closed about three hours and the cleaning crew hadn’t gotten in yet.

I went in through an air conditioning duct, so the fucking alarms wouldn’t sound. Just tore a big hole in the wall. Then I went into all the expensive stores and stole some clothes and cologne and jewelry and liquor.

I pulled on a black PVC tank top and an XXXL white shirt. The belt buckle was getting agitated. I didn’t want it to spark and make lightning, so I was really mellow about my attitude. I high-tailed it into the woods at the edge of the mall, where I'd once earned quick easy cash. From there, I turned onto a side street. The parking lot of the mall was swarming with cop cars by the time I was out of sight. I looked back, flexed my free arm, and laughed. •

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