Most days the ride home on the train is pretty boring: stuffed full of office drones, with the occasional college kid thrown in for good measure. But yesterday, I saw someone who ended up changing my world. He definitely was not the run-of-the-mill business type that you generally find on the train at rush hour.

Before I get into my story I guess I'll tell you a little about myself. I am about as much of an average guy as you can get. I'm 5'9" tall and weigh 155 pounds. I have an average build. My body is well proportioned, but not overly muscled. I work out, but just enough to be in decent shape. There is nothing outstanding about me. I have medium brown hair, grayish brown eyes, and average nondescript features. The fact that there is nothing outstanding about me makes what happened to me all the more astounding.

I caught the train at my usual time with the usual crowd of people all trying to get home at the same time. I pushed my way into crowd and grabbed a handhold to steady myself as the train pulled out. The train started out with a jerk, making me stumble a bit as I tried to steady myself against the partition at the end of the row of seats. I was jostled twice more and bounced off the wall twice more. On the last bounce I heard a voice from above me say, "Watch it, buddy!"

It was then that I realized that I hadn't hit the partition, but had been bouncing off a wall of a man. Huge doesn't really describe him. He was tall and extremely broad-shouldered. Facing each other this close all I could see was the broad expanse of his chest.

I tilted my head back and looked him in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, but I lost my balance." He just stared down at me like I was a bug or something, making me want to look away in shame as he said, "Just try to be a little more careful. It's not like you could hurt me or anything, but you're wrinkling my tie."

"OK," I said, and then with nothing else to say, I tried to stand there like I was minding my own business. It was all that I could do to keep from staring. He was my fantasy man. Not a pretty boy, but what people used to refer to as being ruggedly handsome. Like the Marlboro man was. Not that this guy had ever been a regular smoker, but if you're old enough to remember, then you know what I mean.

His body was fantastic. He was wearing a gray business suit that was tailored to show off his massively muscled body. His shoulders were easily twice as wide as mine and I could clearly see a giant biceps straining the fabric of his suit coat just holding onto the duffel bag he was carrying. I casually looked down and noticed that his suit pants must have been custom-made to show off his beefy thighs, and were tailored just enough to show the generous bulge of his crotch. He was definitely big all over. While I was looking down, he shifted his weight back and forth, and made both of his big thighs flex beneath the fabric of his pants. The muscles didn't quite show through, but they were big enough to flatten out the creases, and pull at the seams. I let out a small gasp of shock at how magnificent this stud was, but snapped my mouth shut quickly in hopes that he didn't notice. I glanced up at his face to see if he had and saw him look down at me with a predatory smirk on his face.

Soon the train had made enough stops that there was room enough for me to move away. I managed to slip in to a seat across the aisle from the muscle stud, and put my briefcase over my lap to hide the hardon that had sprouted while I had been standing next to this muscle god. I hoped he hadn't noticed, but I wasn't sure. I continued to watch the object of my desire as I hid my face behind a report that I had pulled from my briefcase. I thought I was being careful. I didn't want this stud getting angry with me for starring at his hot body. He was at least twice as big as me and could squash me like a bug. I had to duck behind my report a couple of times when I thought he caught me looking, but I hoped that he hadn't noticed.

Unfortunately my stop arrived and I sighed with disappointment when I thought I wouldn't get to see this magnificent stud any more. As the train came to a stop and I stood up and grabbed the handhold that left me standing next to this stud again. I inhaled deeply the spicy musk his body gave off, and toyed with the idea of riding past my stop until he got off.

My practical side kicked in and I found myself getting off the train. I just stood in the middle of the platform trying to decide what to do next. I was still horny and my cock was just starting to soften again as I debated over going home and jerking off, or taking my sexual energy to the gym and using it in my workout. I could go to a bar and try to pick someone up, but after seeing my fantasy man on the train, no one would come close to measuring up.

It was then that I heard that voice from the train say, "Hey you!" I turned around and found myself looking at the giant muscle stud from the train. I just stood there, dumfounded, staring at him at him for several minutes.

"Yeah you," he said forcefully. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," I mumbled as I looked down at my feet in embarrassment. I had been caught.

"Don't tell me nothing. I saw you checking me out, watching me the whole time we were on the train. When I saw you get off, I decided maybe you'd like a better look.

"Besides, you call this body 'nothing'? This is 100 percent prime grade A beef you've been drooling over. Bet you're wondering what this big muscleman looks like underneath his suit, eh?

"Follow me," he ordered as he led me to storage shed at the end of the platform. I held back a little as we got to the building. I looked around to see if anyone was watching but the platform was empty.

"Come on, over here. You know you want to. Don't be such a fucking pussyboy. So what if someone sees you. Here, take my jacket." He tossed it to me with the self-assurance that I would hold it for him. I did. "Maybe this'll get you moving. Man, look at that bicep. It looks like a mountain there on my arm, doesn't it? Christ, it's so fucking hard. You like the sound it makes when I slap it? Wait until you see it in the flesh. Fuck, it's like a rock under there. Want to see the other side? There, how's that? Big fucking arms, right, pussyboy?"

I had frowned when he called me pussyboy, but compared to this gargantuan muscle stud, I was boy-sized. We both knew it; I just wasn't ready to admit it.

"What's the matter, you don't like it when I call you pussyboy? But you like looking at this fucking muscle stud, doncha? Huge fucking muscle everywhere. You like it when I talk about my muscles? Yeah? You like it when I talk dirty about my big fucking muscles? Well, unless that's a cell phone in your pocket, I think you do."

He turned toward the door of the shed and grabbed the lock in one of his big hands and yanked hard. He pulled the hasp from the frame with ease. He then opened the door and ushered me in ahead of him. It was relatively dark inside except for the open space in the middle of the room that was lit by a skylight. I was effectively trapped here with this big stud between the door and me, but my desire for this muscle giant muted any fear I was experiencing.

"Don't stand so far away, come closer. No, not like that. On your knees, like the pussyboy you are."

"Yes, sir," I said, hoping that the honorific might please him.

"Hey, did I say you could speak? No. I speak, you obey, or you don't get to see what's under this muscleman's clothes. And I know you want to. Don't you?"

"Yes," I mumbled as I hung my head in shame.

"Fuck, pussyboy, you don't get it yet, do you? I will tell you when you may open your mouth. Otherwise, you nod or shake your head only. You know, I don't think you really want to see all this fucking muscle."

I groaned and let slip, "Pleassse?" in a low hiss, as I dropped to my knees and raised my hand in supplication.

"Are you begging me to show you? I told you not to speak, but I can't resist a begging pussyboy. Besides, I feel like showing off my body, so lucky you, you get to watch.

"Wanna see my chest? Here, let me take off my tie. Man, this shirt is so tight. Think I could pop these buttons off? Yeah? Bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you? You want to see these massive slabs? Shit, the cleavage between my pecs is so fucking thick, you could lose a finger in there.

"Let me bounce these babies for you. That is solid fucking muscle under there, but you can't really tell with the shirt in the way. You want me to take it off...? Ah, remember what I said." I nodded my head up and down vigorously.

"Good boy," he said and patted me on the head like he was rewarding a dog. It would have been humiliating except I was so pleased at his approval that if I had had a tail, it would be wagging hard.

"I'll do a few push-ups, get my chest pumped," he said. "Stay on your knees. Count out loud while I do them. I'll start you off...1, 2, 3, 4, 5..."

I counted along with him, keeping up with the fast but steady pace he had set.

"50, 51, 52, 53...Christ, I can really feel my chest pumping up, boy. These are gonna be fucking thick as the Manhattan phone book soon...75, 76, 77, 78...My shirt's getting so fucking tight...100, 101, 102, 103...150, 151, 152... Fucking A! That's enough," he said as he jumped up to a standing position again.

He looked down at me from over the heaving mass of his mighty chest. "Holy shit, look at this chest, pussyboy. Damn, my shirt's ready to burst from all this fucking muscle. Look at that, you can see my pecs between the gaps of my buttons. What do you think's gonna happen when I flex these motherfuckers?"

I opened my mouth to say something but I caught the disapproval in his eye and snapped it shut.

He gave me a quick pleased smile and said, "I'm gonna stretch out now. I find that swinging my arms back and forth really loosens up my tight muscles." He had done it a few times when there was a loud tearing sound. "Ah shit! Did you hear that? Fuck, I think my shirt ripped up the back. Go around me and see."

I crawled behind him and looked. The heavy cotton dress shirt had split up the back revealing most of the broad wings of muscles that made up his back. I couldn't help myself; I was so in awe that I whispered, "Oh my God!" I wasn't loud but I knew immediately that I had screwed up.

"Did you just say something? It sounded like you spoke. You think my back's big now, wait till I do a lat spread. There you go, pansy, those are fucking wings. Maybe I'll take you for a ride one of these days. Get back in front of me now."

I sighed with relief. He either hadn't heard me or chose to ignore me. I crawled back in front of my muscle god as he said, "My goddamn shirt's still tight. My pecs are so fucking enormous; they're still pumped up, ready to pop off some buttons. Here, let me bounce 'em a few more times for you. Fuck, I think these babies are ready to blow. Look out! There goes the first one. Did it get you in the eye? You can keep it as a souvenir."

The first one had hit me, but I didn't care. I tucked it in my pocket. "Here come the other ones," he said, and I ducked as the rest of the buttons flew past me. I listened as they ricocheted of the wall behind me and landed in the piles of tools and supplies in the shed.

When the last button rattled to a stop I looked up again to see my muscle master's big beefy pecs framed on either side by the ruined remains of his shirt. My hands were opening and clenching as I restrained myself. I really wanted to touch, and lick and suck those big hairy masses. He had enough hair to be incredibly sexy, but the hair was just light enough that you could still see the veins and striations underneath.

"So you like these tits, boy? Look at all these fucking hairy muscle. I bet you want to put your hands on these pecs, doncha, boy? Stay there and hold your hands out. Maybe if you're lucky - fuck, you're already lucky, aren't you, pussy, because you get to see all this muscle in the first place - maybe if you're really lucky, I'll let my pecs touch your fingers. Hold still."

I held out my hands, palms out and fingers spread and stretching my arms up as far as I could. My hands shook with excitement and desire as this big stud bent down to let my hands touch his chest. As my hands came in contact with the big hairy mounds of muscle it felt like a jolt of electricity ran through his pecs and into my body straight to my balls. I had cum just by touching his mighty chest.

"There," he said as he stood up again. "Did you like that? You did, didn't you? Did you cum in your pants when this hairy muscle touched your fingers?"

I nodded as my face turned red with embarrassment. "Shit, boy, what're you going to do when you see my arms?

"Here, take a gander at these fucking mountains again. Look at how they're stretching my sleeves. You ready to watch 'em burst? Sometimes when I get them pumped up, I can break the measuring tape. You wanna know how big they get? You may speak to take a guess."

"Twenty inches?" I mumbled as I guessed.

"Twenty inches? Are you shitting me, pussyboy? I had 20-fucking-inch guns when I was a baby. Take another look at these fucking monsters. These aren't guns, pussy, these are fucking bazookas."

"Twenty-five inches," I guessed wildly now.

"Twenty-five inches? You're getting warmer, pussyboy. They're almost 30-fucking inches when they're pumped up. You like that, eh? Thirty- fucking-inch cannons, ready to blow you away.

"I'll bet you're creaming your pants just thinking about all the size of my arms. Shit, they're bigger than your fucking thighs. Here, take another look. Man, they're really starting to pump up from all this flexing. You're one lucky son of a bitch, isn't that right, pussyboy?"

He was right. I had cum again as I watched him flex his giant arms. He was also right that I was one lucky son of a bitch to be able to see this show.

"You know what would make 'em really pump up? If I could bend something." I lit up at that.

"Oh, you like that idea? What's it do to you, to think of this big fucking muscleman strong enough to bend a steel bar? You see anything like that around? Over there - looks like there are some steel pipes by the wall. Go get one for me." I started to stand up when he said, "No, don't get up. Do it on your knees. I don't care if it's all the way across the floor."

I shuffled over to the stack of pipes near the wall, they weren't a large diameter, but they were long and heavy. Standing I might have been able to drag one over, but on my knees it was nearly impossible.

"Come on, bring it back," he demanded. "What, are you having trouble? Jesus Christ, that's the trouble with you pussyboys, no strength at all. Fuck, I'll get it myself. Get back to your spot." He walked over to where I was kneeling struggling with the pipe and snatched out of my arms as if it weighed next to nothing. He balanced the weight and length of the pipe easily in one hand. I quickly crawled back to my spot in front of my new god.

"There's some nice heft to this. You ready for another show?" I nodded vigorously again

"Oh yeah, this one's gonna be good. Shit, pussy, my arms are already pumping up, and I haven't even started to bend this fucker. Ah, there we go...look at that, those sleeves are ready to explode from all my fucking muscle.

"This baby's almost at 90-degrees already. It's like bending a piece of wet fucking spaghetti. Shit! Did you hear that? Look at that: my goddamn arm just fucking shredded the sleeve. Did that make you cum again? How many times is that? What're you gonna do when my other sleeve goes?"

I held up three fingers on one hand and moaned as I grabbed my damp sticky crotch with my other hand.

He smiled a shit-eating grin at me and said, "Shit, this bar's not putting up any fight. I've got the ends together. Do you think I can twist it around in a loop? Bet you'd like to see that. Here we go. Yeah, that's it, this piece of steel's no match for all this big fucking muscle. Fuck! There goes the other sleeve. Look at that, my bicep just tore the shit outta this fucker. I am one big strong motherfucker, right, pussyboy?"

I nodded my head crazily with a big goofy grin on my face, having cum again.

"Man, this shirt is fucking useless now. They just don't make shirts like they used to, eh, pussyboy? Then again, they don't make shirts to handle 350 pounds of rock fucking solid muscle, right?" He pulled the shreds off his body and tossed them towards me.

I grabbed the ruined shirt and held to my face, breathing deeply the masculine scent of my master, as I continued to nod my head in agreement. I was so mesmerized by this stud that I would have agreed to anything he said.

"Put down the fucking shirt," he snapped and I hastened to obey. "Check out this arm, baby. That is 100 percent hard fucking rock sitting there. Think you could climb that mountain? Bet you'd like to try, right, pussyboy? You ever taste solid granite? Come over here, on your knees. Stick out your tongue. Come on, farther than that. Watch it pump for you. Look at the fucker. Shit, I think I'm even bigger than 30 inches now. What'd you think?"

I shuffled over on my knees until I was as close as I could get without touching him. My tongue was hanging out of my mouth, and I was panting like a hound dog on a hot day. My eyes were focused on the huge bulging mass of his arm.

"You like it when I flex it up and down? How's about I make it dance for you? Shit, look at that mother jumping all around. Keep your eyes focused on it, pussyboy, and keep your tongue out. Look at that, my fucking bicep is bigger than your head. Bet you're dying to get a taste of it. How'd you like to get your face smashed in by a huge fucking bicep?"

He finally brought his arm down close enough for me to lick. The salty flavor of his skin was like nectar to me. I went to work giving his arm a real spit shine.

"That's right, pussyboy, lick it all over. Make that fucker shine. Oops, sorry about popping that arm in your face. Better be careful, eh, or I'm likely to break your nose just by flexing."

He had extended his arm as I was licking it, and then gave it a fast hard flex hitting the back of my head with his beefy forearm and smashing my face into his rock solid bicep. When I lifted my head up again I felt a small trickle of blood run down from my nose. It was a small nosebleed that stopped pretty quickly.

"Here, do my other arm. Shit, look at that son of a bitch. Fucking rock goddamn hard, isn't it, pussyboy? Yeah, you like swiping your tongue all over this hard muscle, don't you?" As I swiped my tongue all over his mountains, I was drawn to the deep indentation that formed between his Herculean pecs and massive arm. With a quick move of my head, I plunged my face into his muscular armpit. "Goddamnit, pussyboy, I didn't say you could stick your nose in my pits. Just for that, no more tasting for now. Maybe if you redeem yourself, I'll let you work on my tits and abs later."

I ducked my head momentarily in shame before my master directed my attentions back to where they belonged.

"These are some mighty fine abs, wouldn't you say? You could do a fucking wash on these abs. Huge fucking muscle, covered with hair, trailing down to my dick."

I nodded in agreement, and then stared pointedly at his massive legs.

"Oh, you want to see my legs? Well, I don't know. You weren't a good pussyboy before, but I'll make an exception. I'll take my pants off for you, show you what real fucking men's legs look like, not those little twigs you walk on."

I dared to speak out. I really wanted to see him flex his legs out of his pants like he had flexed out of his shirt and said so.

"Are you speaking, pussyboy? You want to see me flex out of my pants? Shit, boy, this suit costs over $1500. I have to have them custom- made. Give you three guesses why. Are you going to buy me a new one?" I nodded. I had money that I had been saving for a home entertainment system, but this would be worth it.

"You are? OK, pussyboy, it's your money."

"Let me get these quads pumped up, do a few squats. Of course, there's nothing to squat with. Hmm, I could use you, but you'd just be squirting out load after load, right? What the fuck, get over here and stand up straight."

I stood up quickly, my whole body trembling with excitement as I spread my legs apart needlessly. Instead my muscle god put his hands on my waist. His hands were so big that his fingers just touched front and back. He then lifted me up over his head forcing me to duck down so my head didn't hit the ceiling.

"Upsy-daisy. Shit, boy, you're lighter than a feather. What'd you weigh, 150 pounds? 160? Shit, I do one-arm bicep curls with that weight, let alone squats. Well, it's better than nothing." He settled me on his shoulders forcing my legs wide apart to straddle his thick neck and broad traps. I steadied myself by holding on to his thick bulky traps. He held on to my lower legs with his big hands. I would have said that he held me by my ankles, but his hands were so big that they covered most of my lower legs.

"Start counting out, if you can talk between loads. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5..."

He was right of course, in the position that I was in, my stiff cock was rubbing against the back of his bull neck. The friction on my dick threatened to make me cum. Since he seemed to expect this and wasn't disapproving, I let myself go. By now, I was drained dry and just kept having dry spasm after spasm as we moved together.

"100, 101, 102, 103...Well, it's not much, but I can feel my legs starting to pump up. Can you see how tight my pants are getting? ...125, 126, 127, 128...Look at that, you can see how defined my quads are through the material...200, 201, 202, 203...250, 251, 252... Fucking A! Look at these legs, pussyboy. Damn, they're solid fucking tree trunks."

He reached up and pulled me down from his shoulders and cradled me in one arm against his massive hairy chest. He cupped my crotch with his other big hand and squeezed firmly but gently.

"How many times did you cum while you were up there pussyboy? I bet it's pretty wet and sticky in your pants by now."

He lowered me down and I dropped back into my kneeling position in front of him. I had lost count, so I just held up both hands with fingers spread apart. He chuckled.

"Shit, look at these motherfuckers. My pants are so fucking tight. Let me flex 'em for you. Oh yeah, there we go. Did you hear that? I guess even a $1500 suit is no match for pure fucking muscle. Look at that, split right up the seam. Can you see the muscle? Here comes the other one. Fuck! You know, pussyboy, it even turns me on to see my big fucking muscles in action. You probably think you've died and gone to muscle heaven.

"Man, look at this mess. Nothing left of this suit but shreds. I guess you could use the fabric as cum rags, eh, pussyboy? Look at these fucking quads. You like the sound it makes when I slap them? What am I saying? Of course you do. Look at how defined they are. You want to follow the veins? You know where they'll lead you - right up to my dick.

"Get over here, pussyboy, and put your head between my thighs. You can feel them if you must."

I moved up between his massive legs and ran my hands up and down the powerful muscles. Occasionally I cupped my hands around the big teardrop shaped muscles.

"You like that? They're harder than fucking steel. Shit, they're bigger than your flabby fucking waist, aren't they? Of course, that's not saying much. Hell, they're probably twice as big as your waist."

Just as my muscle god directed my view up toward his face, he pulled his legs together trapping my head between his granite thighs. "They're big and hard, aren't they? Think I could crush your head between my thighs? What's the matter, pussyboy? Scared? I would be, if I were you. I've crushed bowling balls between these motherfuckers. You think a skull is harder than a bowling ball? Oh yeah, bet you're starting to feel some pressure now. You want me to stop, or do you like being crushed by a big fucking muscleman? Did you cum again?"

I had thought I was drained dry, but as he increased the pressure on my head, fear, more than excitement, caused a fresh load to shoot into my already cum-sodden underpants. His grip on my head was so tight that I couldn't move my head in the appropriate motion to answer him so I broke his rule and begged him to stop. I was so frightened at this point that I had started to cry.

"Did you say, 'Please stop'? I should punish you for speaking out of turn, but I'm a kind master. Stop crying, pussyboy. That was just to show you what happens when you misbehave. Bet you won't be misbehaving any time soon, eh?"

He released me from his grip and I dropped down to my hands and knees as I pulled myself together. I managed to shake my head enough to make sure he knew that I understood. I got into my kneeling position when I heard his voice again.

"Take these pants off me. Undo the belt and push them down. Oh yeah, I'm sporting a pretty big basket. I didn't say you could touch it. Fuck, though, I'm practically hard already. Pumping up and showing off for some pathetic little pussyboy gets me going.

"Now I'll give you another treat, pussyboy. Go ahead take my cock out of my shorts. Oh yeah, that's 10 fucking inches, baby. Take the balls out too. You eat oranges, pussyboy? Shit, you can't even keep them in your palms."

His cock and balls had made an obscene bulge in his sport boxers. I had pulled them down to the tops of his thighs, letting his massive member flop out. His cock was at least 10 inches as he said and as it stiffened I guessed that it might be even bigger. His cock was as thickly muscled as the rest of his body and easily as thick as my forearm. His balls really were like a pair of oranges in a hairy sack.

"Stroke it, pussy. Lick it. Oh yeah, that's it. Fuck, I'm leaking like a son-of-a-bitch. Open up, pussyboy. Better work on that gag reflex, 'cause you're gonna take this fence post down to the root. Fuck! That's a hot mouth you've got, pussyboy. Pull on my balls. Come on; put some muscle into it. Oh wait, that's right, you don't have any muscle. Fuck yeah! There's nothing I like better than sticking my big hard dick down some pussyboy's throat after a hard workout. Of course, this was just a warm-up, but you get the idea."

I struggled bravely as I sucked his massive tool. I gagged and started to suffocate as he held my head and raped my mouth. He would force his cock deep down my throat until my nose was buried deep in his thick dense pubic bush. Then he would pull my head most of the way off again. As he yanked my head back and forth, I held onto his big balls for dear life. He obviously enjoyed my yanking on his balls as he urged me to pull harder.

"Come on, suck it! Fuck! Here I cum. Oh yeah! Fucking shooting all over your face! You cumming again?"

I was, as he coated my face and head in his heavy load. His powerful shots stung my face with their force.

"That's the last of it...Shit, boy, you're a mess. Fucking spunk all over your face, in your hair. Looks like you took a shower and forget to rinse the shampoo out. Clean yourself up."

Using the tattered remains of his pants, I carefully wiped the cum up and smoothed down my hair as best I could.

"That's a little better. There are sweatpants and a T-shirt in my gym bag. Get them for me."

I crawled over to the bag and pulled out his clothes. He kicked off his dress shoes and he allowed me to help him get dressed. I knelt down again and helped him put his cross-trainers on lacing them up securely. I then sat back on my haunches to look up at my muscle god worshipfully, admiring him in this new outfit.

"Shit, these sweats are a little tight. Probably added another couple of inches of muscle since the last time I wore them. Fuck, this T- shirt was loose just yesterday. Now it's so fucking tight, you can see every ripple and curve. But you like that don't you, pussyboy? Shit, this shirt looks like it's been painted on. Here, here's a quick bicep for you."

He flexed his huge arm again and I swooned in delight, cumming yet again. I wasn't sure how I was managing to cum so many times, but I knew that this magnificent man was really motivating me.

"Come on, pick the rest of my clothes and get my briefcase. You walk behind me, as a good pussyboy should. Hell, it lets you get a view of my muscle ass. Maybe I'll let you eat me out when I get home."

I scrambled to gather everything up. It was a heavy load with two briefcases, the duffle bag and his ruined suit, but I didn't care because he was letting me follow him home. Who knew what might happen when we got there, but I didn't care as long as I could be near this magnificent specimen of man. He was my master, my god.

"Let's go," he ordered and I scrambled out the door and down the street after him. •