“God damn it!” Hank could smell the antifreeze bubbling over. He had been cursing his car under his breath for miles, and now he was cursing it, and the fates, as the red light on his dashboard glared back at him and he wondered just how far this ‘nearest gas’ was, after all.
Did they still build towns this far off the highway? What the hell was it doing all the way out here? How could it even survive? Maybe it was one of those rust belt backwaters that used to suvive off the manufacturing and factories of nearby cities, but those were all gone, now. Everyone who had any sense had moved west to join the digital revolution, or east to find their dream. Who was left out here, anyway?
A sign was approaching ahead, and he felt a bead of sweat find its way to his butt crack. He’d rolled down all the windows, but even the wind was hot this close to Summer. If he was hoping the engine would appreciate his attempts at getting it to run cooler, his car seemed to have other ideas. He should have replaced this stupid thing years ago, thinking how foolish wish fulfillment was, now. A ‘65 Mustang? Did he really think a car with something like 200,000 miles was up for a road trip? The odometer didn’t even work anymore, and neither did most things on the old Ford.
A sign up ahead announced that he was finally nearing the town limits. He couldn’t see any buildings of any size reaching up from the flat earth, so he assumed the town was small and easy to miss. Hopefully, its first gas station had a garage so he could replace the hose or stick duct tape somewhere in the guts of the motor so his water would stop leaking out. From the smell of things, his oil was burning, too.
He rubbed his hand across the red vinyl dash to calm his baby. “Just a little farther,” he coaxed, “and sorry about the god damn it part. You know I love you.” The car rattled on, kicking up dust and pebbles as it drove toward the town.
Another sign appeared on the horizon. “Oh, thank you Jesus,” he said softly. A gas station, at last! And from the looks of it, an actual service station complete with garage and even a pile of tires out front. He pulled in a slow, calming breath and let it out in a sigh of relief. “We’re gonna make it, baby,” he told the Mustang.
The place looked deserted, and why shouldn’t it be? Where was this fabled town he’d been promised? At least the ‘nearest gas’ was here, or so it seemed. Was the place even open? Did Exxon know it existed, and were they still delivering gasoline? There was a pick-up truck parked next to the garage. Not too old—certainly not the classic that his Mustang was—but old enough to look like it had been handed down like an old shirt to someone with a new license. He turned the steering wheel and pointed himself toward the garage, just as steam or smoke began to rise from beneath the hood. The smell of the overheated engine was strong and chemical, a sweet scent but stung with burnt rubber and oil.
The car rolled toward the gas pumps and he applied the brakes, sitting in the still vehicle for a few heartbeats as the sweat poured down his skin beneath his white V-neck T-shirt and stung his eyes. He wiped his forehead with his arm and then collapsed back into the bench seats, his head lolling backwards while he closed his eyes and silently thanked the car for making it.
He was sitting in there, eyes closed, hands still gripping the sweat-slick steering wheel, legs shaking slightly from stress, the smell of his overheated car swimming through his senses when a voice called him back from his reverie, a voice distinctly masculine and possessed of a tone so deep and powerful that it sounded like God himself had come down and decided to help him out.
“You okay, mister? Need some help or something?”
Hank sighed again, and said, “Just… kind of… getting my shit together here.”
The owner of the voice laughed softly. “Okay, I gotcha. Can I fill ‘er up for you?”
Did he even need gas? He’d been so busy watching the steady red light and wondering when his car was going to break down that he wasn’t sure. “I guess,” he answered, his eyes still closed, “but what I really need is….”
His car suddenly lurched to the side, and a different smell reached his nostrils. He reached out to steady himself automatically, fear racing into his chest and blood as he wondered whether his tires had just popped or the shocks had given out, and he looked over into the grinning face of God himself, or something approximating what a god should look like.
He had on a baseball cap, the brim carefully curled and pulled low over his brow. He had dark hair, almost perfectly black, with long sideburns and a scruff of a beard that looked maybe three days old. His lips, full and pouty, were curled into a smile. Mirrored sunglasses covered his gaze, and he was leaning his arms across the window sill of the passenger side.
The rest of him, or at least what Hank could see, looked to be constructed entirely of muscle. It was bulging everywhere, as if there wasn’t enough room on the man’s body to contain it all. From his thick neck to his mountainous shoulders to the meaty hams clinging to his forearms, the man was brutal brawn everywhere. “Mustang, huh?” he said. His voice, inside the car’s cabin, was even more deliriously powerful. It rumbled like thunder.
Hank nodded and blinked. He couldn’t tell where the man was looking behind those mirrored Aviators, but his head swiveled around as if he was scoping everything out. “Nice ride,” he said. Then he stood up, taking his bulk from the car and it lurched the other way, righting itself without his huge body weighing it down. As he rose to his full height, Hank saw that he was shirtless, and owned not just an impressive set of arms and shoulders, but impressive everything. His body was perfect, almost absurdly so, with smooth skin covering all his muscle and a lickable treasure trail erupting from his winking navel and traveling south into his pant, which hung so low on his slim hips that they were nearly obscene.
He was almost absurdly tall, because once his massive chest and cobblestone belly and furry trail disappeared from view, Hank was staring at a bulging basket of meat, thrusting itself forward with authority and pride from inside a tight pair of button-fly 501’s. Hank could tell they were button-flies because there seemed to be so much meat packed into the man’s crotch that the buttons were straining to hold on. He owned a basket as massive as the rest of him.
The man moved around the car, circling behind the Mustang. Hank watched in the rearview mirror, his mouth agape. He’d never encountered anyone this huge, before. From the side, the man’s ass jutted out like a couple of melons. It was the most bubblicious bubble butt he’d ever seen. The dude must be performing squats in his sleep to get a derriere like that!
Now he was on Hank’s side, and he moved his large hand onto the handle and pulled the driver’s door open. “Why don’t you step out and grab yourself something cold inside while we take care of you?” He bent his body so he could look inside at Hank. “We got Cokes or beers.” Then he smiled, and said, “Pretty much anything you want to put between your lips and swallow,” and Hank felt the blood rush into his dick.
Hank stepped out of his car and stood up. His legs felt a little weak and his shirt was plastered to his skin. Now that he was standing next to the man, Hank realized that he was at least a head shorter, and he stood six-feet two-inches tall! How fucking big was this guy? The smell of the car still lingered in his nostrils, but now he could smell something else, too. Something invigorating and incredibly sexy, and realized it was this man.
Huge didn’t even begin to describe his body. Muscle, fat, hard and beautiful, bulged from every inch of him. He was just standing there, still holding the door open, and he looked like he could fucking lift the whole car off the cement and pump it over his head. He was absurdly sexy, almost comically so. Tight blue jeans, no shirt, covered in sweat and streaks of oil, with that sexy grin and those mirrored glasses and that hat—he looked as if he had just stepped from some Tom of Finland wet dream and landed smack in the middle of nowhere. “Office is right over there,” he said, deeply. “Smells like you might be overheating, too.”
Hank nodded. “Yeah, I….”
The man closed the door as Hank moved aside. Then he lifted his hand to his face and pulled the glasses from his eyes. They were bright blue orbs, almost turquoise, surrounded by thick lashes. “No worries. Me and the boys’ll take care of you.” He nodded toward the office and said, “Cold bottles are in the machine. Just a buck.”
“Thanks,” Hank whispered.
The man smiled and said, “Kenny. The name’s Kenny.”
Kenny’s smile radiated sex as his huge paw accepted Hank’s hank and gripped it tightly while they shook hands. “Hank,” he repeated in his deep tones, allowing the other man’s hand from his firm, rough grip. “No worries, Hank. Lemme just get the guys out here and we’ll get you handled in no time. They’re out back goofing off. It’s about time we got our butts in gear.” Then he turned his head, and Hank watched the tendons and cables of muscle in his neck flex and stretch while Kenny shouted, “Barry! Miguel! We got a customer! Put your dicks away and get your asses out here!”
Another voice, from inside the garage, called back, “Hold your horses, asshole! We’re almost finished!” If anything, the second voice was even deeper than Kenny’s.
“Yeah, well, get finished and get out here! Now!” Kenny turned back to Hank with a shrug of his monstrous shoulder. “Sorry about that. They’re just fucking off. Lemme go… hurry them up. Why don’t you grab a Coke or something. Just over there,” he said, pointing toward the office. The muscle lining his arm was awesome to behold. His skin, a shining copper dusted with black curls, was sleek with sweat and motor oil and a heavy tang of his body odor was released as he exposed his armpit. He smelled rank and funky and sexy, and it made Hank’s nostrils flare and his balls tingle.
“Okay,” he said.
“Kenny,” he repeated.
“Excellent,” he responded, smiling and replacing his mirrored sunglasses. Then he turned and jogged off toward the garage, his collection of heavy brawn bouncing and shifting as he moved. He watched him the whole way, admiring the wide taper of his back, the bulging masses all gathered there, the flared wings of his lats, his small, tight waist and, most of all, the amazing and delectable dual globes of his ass. Kenny’s body was beyond incredible, and when he slowed before entering the shadows of the garage, his hands moved inward toward his crotch and, unbelievably, the man seemed to pull his button fly open before disappearing.
Hank whispered, “Holy fuck,” and adjusted himself. His cock was responding very agreeably to Kenny’s inhumanly powerful body and incredibly handsome face. Who the hell was this guy? Some pro bodybuilder out here in the middle of nowhere, pumping gas shirtless while posing for calendars? Hank sucked in a breath and walked toward the office, a small, dusty-looking space surrounded by windows.
Unlike most gas stations he was used to, this one was not a combination lottery ticket seller slash potato chip and beef jerky store. There were two vending machines inside, one holding a collection of soda, the other dealing out packaged snacks, and a large ice cooler on the floor. A few plastic chairs lined one wall, and there were stacks of boxes holding oil and other automotive fluids, and that was it. The door was held open with a full plastic bottle of Valvoline and the whole place smelled like a combination of his own car and whatever it was that Kenny seemed to be pumping out in a copious cloud of sex, as if the whole place had been doused in every possible manly smell. It was a combination locker room, steam room, bath house, gym and garage, all in one. The heat was oppressive, and it only made the experience sexier.
While perusing the selection of sodas, he became aware of a low thumping noise occurring from the wall that abutted the garage next door. It wasn’t a steady, mechanical noise. It was definitely rhythmic, but less automated than machinery would produce. Stepping closer to the wall, Hank thought he could hear voices, as well. He couldn’t make out any words, and one of them sounded like grunts or moans. The thumping changed from indistinct to hard and powerful, and the voices grew in intensity with the sound. Then all at once there was calm and quiet once again, and then nothing at all.
Hank was considering what he’d heard when there was movement behind him, and he turned around and his mouth dropped open.
“Hey, you must be Hank. Sorry about the wait. Just finishing up some stuff. I’m Barry.” A hand was thrust toward Hank and he reached forward automatically, finding the other man’s grip both more friendly and less intense than he had anticipated. Because the hand belonged to a man who was at least as tall as Kenny had been, and whose body was constructed by the same set of contractors.
Barry was African American and build like the proverbial brick shit house. Like Kenny, he was bare from the waist up. He wore no sunglasses, and his dome was as bare as a baby’s butt. He had large, dark eyes with amused and elegant eyebrows arched over each. His ears were small but his lips were thick and kissable.
Dark, black coffee-colored skin was stretched tightly over a similar collection of fat, bulging muscle. His chest was enormous, possibly bigger than Kenny’s. So huge, in fact, that the muscle pushed his remarkable chocolate-kiss nipples to point at the floor. His flesh was smooth and beautiful, with runnels of sweat traversing the deep crevasses like rivers though canyons. He was wearing a pair of what looked like army pants with several pockets along the legs, and army boots of heavy black leather on his feet.
The dude was colossal. Huge. Enormous. Fucking muscle everywhere. Barry released Hank’s hand and then bent down to open the cooler, pulling out a cold bottle of Budweiser and twisting the cap off before sucking nearly half the bottle down his powerful throat. Then he sighed with satisfaction and licked his lips. “Almost sad to wash the taste away,” he said, then he looked at Hank and added, “but a guy gets thirsty after that, don’t he?” Hank’s brow furrowed. Barry smiled, his teeth as white as sunlight in the darkness of his face, and he shrugged. “But there’s plenty more where that came from.”
Barry smiled, and motion toward the Mustang with his beer. “You overheated?”
The huge dark-skinned god twisted his mammoth torso around to look out through the wide windows and nodded. “She’s a beauty, though.”
The brutally handsome face turned back. His eyes were like deep shadows. His skin was shining like dark silk, luscious and lickable. “Sixty nine?”
Hank’s cock jerked. “I’m sorry?”
He motioned with the bottle again. “Sixty nine?”
“Sixty-five,” Hank corrected.
“Classic year.” His eyes danced up and down Hank’s body, lingering at his crotch, before moving back to meet his gaze. “Did you want a beer?”
“Beer’s free,” he explained. “And you might be here a while, if you’re worried about getting a DWI.”
Barry nodded. “Just from what Kenny said. Not sure we have everything you need right here.” He bent down and opened the cooler again, pushing his large hand under the slushy ice and extracting a second bottle. “Might need to go into town and bring stuff back.” Barry twisted the cap off and handed Hank to the open bottle.
“How far is town?” Hank asked, accepting the beer.
“Not too far. Few miles is all.” Barry’s eyes were moving across Hank’s body again as he sucked down another full gulp of his beer.
Hank took a drink. Admittedly, the beer did taste good, and it was ice cold. He could feel it travel all the way down his throat and branch out like liquid silver. “So, what’s the story?”
One of Barry’s elegant eyebrows arched. The bottle’s mouth was near his own, and he played the rim across his bottom lip. “Story?”
“You and Kenny. You guys bodybuilders?”
“Me and Kenny?” Barry seemed to find amusement in the idea. “Nah, we’re not bodybuilders.” As if to deny his denial, Barry made his heavy pecs bounce and dance with effortless ease. The display of muscular size and control was both sensual and powerful. He watched Hank’s reaction with interest, smiling as he did so. The smooth globes erupted into defined cables and striations of muscle. Bands of raw, fierce brawn etched themselves into his dark chocolate skin, stretched thin across the sheer size of the muscle beneath. It was like watching two live things move beneath his flesh.
The tremendous show of meaty muscle control came to an abrupt end, and Barry grinned with a foolish pride. “We’re in Muscle Club.” He spoke the last two words with meaning, as if Hank was supposed to know what the term implied.
But Hank’s face registered confusion. “Muscle Club?”
Barry’s face mirrored his own. “Yeah, Muscle Club. You… you never heard of Muscle Club?”
“No, should I?”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
Hank shook his head and took another swig. “I’m from back east, taking a road trip.”
“Nice,” Barry said before finishing off his beer in a last, deep gulp. Then he opened a second one and drank half of that, too.
Hank was about to ask more about this Muscle Club when another man entered the office. This had to be Miguel, not only because he was the only guy Hank hadn’t met, yet, but also because he was clearly Latino.
But other than that, Miguel was like the third triplet in a set. Like Kenny and Barry before him, he owned a body of such unnaturally huge muscular growth and perfectly developed proportions that he looked more like something a comic book illustrator would dream up and slip into a set of brightly colored tights, rather than the dull blue coveralls that the beautiful man was wearing.
His face was clean-shaven, and the lines of his chin and jaw epitomized the term ‘chiseled.’ He had high cheek bones and a prominent brow. His long neck was thick with muscles and a ready smile seemed permanently attached to his lips. His longish hair was an unkempt collection of soft curls that framed his handsome face, and looked as if someone had been grabbing it by the handful as they fucked his ass.
As he entered the office, Hank thought he saw Miguel’s hand caress Barry’s butt cheek, but maybe he had just brushed it accidentally. Barry looked over as the hand moved across his prominent ass and he rose slightly on his toes, and smiled. Fuck, maybe Miguel just did grab his ass! Barry said, “Hey,” to his friend, then grabbed Miguel another beer from the chest and they clinked bottles in a toast before Miguel turned toward Hank and, like Barry, allowed his gaze to drift across his body as if looking over a prized steer.
This time, Hank offered his hand first, and said, “Don’t tell me. You’re Miguel, and you’re in Muscle Club, too.”
“Wow, what are you, psychic?” His voice was deep and masculine, but also melodic. Hank could tell that if this one ever elected to sing, he could probably coax the birds from the trees and make the moon weep. “Yeah, I’m Miguel. Kenny said we should introduce ourselves.”
“Kenny’s in charge?”
The two dark-skinned Goliaths exchanged looks, then Barry said, “Yeah, I guess you could say that Kenny’s the Alpha male.”
“Only on account of him being in MC first,” Miguel added.
“No problem, bro.” He smiled and then gulped down some beer, wiping his mouth with his muscled forearm. Unlike the other two, Miguel’s collection of awesome brawn was coated with a fine forest of curls. Not thick, but evenly distributed across his chest. The arms of his coveralls had been torn off, probably out of necessity because there was no way those arms would fit inside any sleeves, and the zipper of the suit was undone nearly to his crotch.
The line of hair erupted again at his navel and traveled south in a prefect thin trail along his tight, flat pelvis, widening just before disappearing under the material again. The coverall’s legs gripped his own legs tightly, and the thin cotton material was doing almost nothing to hide the fact that Miguel was the proud owner of a cobra so thick and so prominent that every aspect of its formidable shaft and flaring helmet was clearly outlined as it snaked its way along his left thigh.
Hank realized he was staring at Miguel’s impressive assets when Barry cleared his throat and said, “Well, guess we better attend to this man’s car, shouldn’t we, Miguel?”
“I guess,” he agreed, though it seemed a reluctant agreement.
Hank looked up and found the two other men looking back at him with knowing smiles and he felt the heat of a blush coloring his entire body. “Let’s get to work,” Barry said, pushing Miguel around by the shoulders and out the doorway. “If you’re feeling uncomfortable in that shirt, Hank, feel free to go into the garage and borrow one. Yours looks soaked through.” He cocked his head and was looking at Hank’s chest before adding, “unless you want to just take it off. As you can tell, we’re kind of…informal here.”
“Yeah,” Miguel agreed, “it’s not like Barry or Kenny are gonna be wearing one any time soon!” Then he laughed and jogged out toward where Kenny was looking under the Mustang’s hood, and Barry followed after, his hips moving like they were lubricated and his ass bouncing like lottery balls.
Hank felt dazed. Maybe it was the beer and the heat and the stress of driving. Maybe it was these three guys, and maybe it was everything. He stood in the office watching the muscled triplets service his car, wishing he was getting that much attention from so much muscle. Even from this distance, it was easy to see their powerful muscles flex, bulge and move. They were often touching each other in friendly and more personal ways, moving a hand to massage a neck, or gripping a handful of ass, and standing close enough to rub sweat on each other. The car would sink on its shocks when one of them climbed inside to turn the engine over, and he was sure he saw Kenny and Barry kiss as they sat together in his Mustang.
Fuck. Fuck! What the hell was this place? Had he exited the freeway and entered some musclebound Twilight Zone? He drank down the beer and found himself reaching for another one, twisting the cap off and applying the wet bottle to his head to cool himself down. Now and then, one of the men would look toward the office and gesture or speak with a companion, and they’d both smile or laugh. Hank would lift his bottle and toast to their work, and wish one of them would come inside with him, rip off his clothes and plow his ass good and hard.
His cock was good and hard, too. Fuck, he needed to get off. There was no way to do anything in the office. The windows here were just too revealing, though he sort of doubted, based on his impressions so far, that any of the muscular men outside would object to him whipping it out and stroking one off. In fact he thought—he hoped—that they’d deign to join him. He wanted to see that cock that Miguel was hiding so unsuccessfully, and if those bulges in the jeans of Kenny and Barry were any indication, either of them could give Miguel a run for his money in that department.
He started to squeeze and stroke his cock through his pants. It reacted aggressively and agreeably, feeling very tight and uncomfortable as it swelled toward erection. Leaning out of the doorway, he called, “Is there a restroom I could use?”
Kenny rose to his full, impressive height—fuck, was he even taller?—and put his hand to his ear. It made his biceps bulge like a football mounted on his arm.
“A restroom?” Hank repeated. “Too much beer,” he explained.
Kenny nodded understanding and gestured with his hand, making a small circle to indicate that the bathrooms were in back, and then he said something that Hank couldn’t hear, but it made both Barry and Miguel pause in their labors and look back toward the office. All three men, their sweat-slick skin gleaming in the sun, looked like metal statues to male perfection. Kenny was made of copper, Barry was black steel, and Miguel was molded from dark brass with steel wool fibers erupting between the globes of his chest.
“Thanks!” Hank responded, then turned and exited the office through the back door in search of a place to relieve his pent-up sexual tension.
There was a wooden fence behind the service station, broken in places, and nothing beyond that but more flat land. He turned left and headed toward the garage, thinking that the restrooms would be inside for the use of the three inhumanly beautiful mechanics. The garage was open at both ends and going inside, he was surprised that there were no other vehicles there. Looking toward where he’d heard the earlier pounding, he noticed that this side of the wall had a huge dent in it, punctuated with holes, and part of the cement blocks that made up the wall had been crushed as if gripped.
“Fuck,” he whispered. Must’ve backed something into that, he thought, though where was that truck now? The holes were dripping with something, as well, and that scent he’d smelled earlier, that funky, sexy, earthy smell that Kenny gave off was very strong like he’d sprayed his cologne all over the space. Whatever that smell was, it made his skin heat up and the hairs on his neck tingle and his cock to throb and swell. It smelled…really, really fucking good. He moved his hand under his soggy shirt and found his nipple, rubbing and pinching it. Fuck, where the hell was that bathroom?
He was tempted to just pull out his cock right there and go for it, when he felt like someone was watching him. It was an eerie and uncomfortable feeling, like being caught looking at porn at work. It wasn’t there at all, the feeling, and then it was, as if materializing from thin air.
He pivoted around quickly and was startled to find Kenny standing just behind him. “Shit,” he said, “you scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said. His upper body was a mass of muscle. He looked even bigger than he had only moments ago. He was coated in sweat, like a glossy sheen that made his tanned flesh shimmer and his overabundant muscles stand out even more starkly. He looked oiled, dipped in something lickable, and the swell of each of his beautifully shaped and perfectly developed muscular bulges was keenly defined. He was just standing there, breathing slowly, making his huge chest expand and the brawn bulging from his six-pack abs swell and recede. His arms hung to his side, pushed out by the sheer width of his lats and shoulders. His eyes sparkled and he was grinning like the cat who cornered the canary.
“That’s okay.” Hank responded, feeling decidedly awkward. “I was looking for the restroom,” he added, hopefully.
“Because you need to get off,” Kenny finished. His voice sounded deep and raw, a gruff reverberation that resounded in the space between them.
“What?” Hank was shocked by the accusation.
“You need to get off,” he repeated.
“No, I just need….”
“It’s okay,” he said, his gaze dipping southward on Hank’s body. “You want some help?”
“I was just looking for….”
“No,” he said, “you weren’t.” The heat of Hank’s embarrassment turned suddenly to lust. Something was inside his head, twisting his desires, licking his libido, pushing his sex drive to eleven. Hank couldn’t catch his breath. His dick was painfully hard. Everything smelled like sex. “Too much?” Kenny asked. The feeling subsided, slightly. He didn’t feel like he was going to faint from the sheer strength of whatever had taken over his brain. Now he just felt extremely good, and extremely horny. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” he reported.
“Do you want some more?”
“No…no…this feels good. What…what are you doing?”
“We call it ‘tugging.’ I’m tugging you.”
He didn’t answer. “I’m not supposed to do it,” he said. “Mr. Titus won’t like it.”
“Do this.” Hank’s body heated up. His cock throbbed hard. His brain boiled with sexual need and power. Everything felt good. He was bathed in sex. Then it was tapering off, again, leaving him feeling unsatisfied and wanting.
“What…what the hell?”
“The holes in the wall you were so intent on examining as you pleasured your nipple? The curiously man-sized dent in the concrete? We did that. Me and my friends. I guess we were enjoying each other a little roughly. And I like rough.” His grin grew teeth, bright white and perfect. His lips looked moist and soft and kissable. “What do you like?”
“What do I—?”
“Like.” He took a couple of steps forward. “You like it rough?” His eyes scanned up and down Hank’s body, like a cowboy sizing up a stallion he was interested in riding. “You like to feel some huge cock shoving itself up your hole, tickling your prostate, sending shivers of pure pleasure all over your body?”
“I should warn you about something.” He licked his lips, sucking the lower one inside his mouth and then letting it out slowly.
“It’s not an empty boast, Hank.” He stepped forward again. Closer, still. “I just wanted to prepare you.” He took another step.
“For me.” Another step. “For my full power.”
He was standing about five feet away, now. Something about him seemed to shimmer, or change. His face was changing. His body was changing. His features, his muscles, his frame was shifting, swelling, growing. Hank gasped and his mouth dropped open and his heart began to race. His dick wanted to tear through his pants and his hands tightened into fists and everything felt hot and wet and on fire from within.
Before him was a God. There was no other term for his appearance or his presence. Perfected to a state that was nearly unbelievable. Not just a man, now, but something more than that and gifted with everything a man should have in such total and overwhelming abundance that it was difficult to accept him as fact, and standing there, in person.
The god of sex and pleasure made flesh.
“Holy fuck,” Hank whispered.
Kenny smiled. It was incandescent and perfect. He radiated sex and masculine power. Each muscle was keenly defined and perfected, bulging under his silken skin, with broad fat cables married to one another in an unparalleled prime of form and beauty.
His torso owned an insane taper. His shoulders stretched insanely wide. His chest could have squeezed an entire man between its pectoral globes. Warm, soft, beautiful fur traversed the muscle, accenting and highlighting its size and density. His arms and legs held heavy wedges of brawn. His face was a collection of perfect masculine angles with a pair of soft, wet, full lips that begged to be kissed.
Suddenly, the seams along the sides of his jeans began to split. More fat, awesome, incredible muscle emerged, blooming and swelling in size and perfection. His pants seemed to melt away, torn from his developing body by the sheer size of his muscles, and now he was revealed in all his naked glory, and his cock was a majestic thing of absolute supremacy and unsurpassed beauty that called to Hank to drop to his knees in worship of its ultimate expression of perfect masculine potency.
Simply standing there, in all his towering majesty, he was almost too much to take. Then, adding to his impossibility, he raised his arms and flexed all his muscles into full bloom. The biceps arched and swelled. His shoulders mounted higher and higher. His lats opened like wings, thick and meaty. His chest swelled and pushed forward, blossoming with more inches of brawn. His eight-pack receded and the skin suctioned down against every keenly defined head of muscle. His thighs exploded with heavy, perfect cables of meat. All it was all covered in glistening, lickable, utterly beautiful skin. “How you like me now?”
Hank could hardly breathe, let alone speak. “What… how—?”
“I’ve been upgraded.” He narrowed his deeply blue gaze and tilted his handsome face. His smile was slightly crooked and un-fucking-believably sexy.
“But you’re… you’ve got… your body… your face….”
“Kinda hard to articulate, ain’t I?” He relaxed his awesome collection of perfect and overwhelming muscle and nodded toward the raging hard-on throbbing inside Hank’s pants and asked, “You sure you don’t want some help with that?”
“I can’t… I’m not—”
“We tone ourselves down a few notches when we make a new acquaintance, but something told me you could cope.” His smile slowly changed, growing sexier and more dangerous, and Kenny narrowed his gorgeous eyes. “The fact that you didn’t spontaneously cream your jeans is a very good sign, Hank. Usually, my first time with a guy starts with me licking up his first creamy load while I work my magic on his system so he can come all over again. But look at you! Here I am, in all my glorious perfection, and you’re holding it together pretty good.”
“Holy fuck,” Hank repeated. Everywhere he looked on Kenny, all he found was more muscle, more cock, more beauty, more perfection.
“You said that already.” Kenny moved closer. His sexuality and power seemed to magnify with every step. He was glowing with sex, sex was a heat that surrounded him, he was at the core of an electrical field radiating pure, sweet, hard, randy sex. He was incredibly naked. Stripped absolutely bare. Unashamed and unbound.
He moved closer, now separated from Hank by only a couple of feet. His scent was overpowering and intoxicating. The sense of masculine energy and sexual power pouring from him was like standing at the crest of a volcano on the verge of erupting. His body was packed with muscle. His voice and movements were saturated with the pure essence of desire. His face was the face of a god.
“You’re doing very well, Hank. Amazingly well, considering what you’re up against—namely, me at my full power, like this.” He held his arms out and his cock started to rise and swell and lengthen. It was gorgeous and beautiful and perfect.
Kenny smiled as his majestic cock arched upward, growing thicker and longer by the inch. He was releasing a thick cloud of his powerful and seductive pheromones and waves of pure sex, like heat, were pouring off his incredible and enormous naked body.
“Yeah, I know. I’m pretty fucking amazing.” He took the final step and stood before Hank, towering over him. Hank was surrounded, now, by his beauty and muscle and energy. He was drowning in the pure source of absolute masculine power and sex.
He was very tall, and very broad, and very big. Kenny leaned down toward Hank and gently, very gently, kissed his lips. As their skin touched, ever so slightly, a sudden, intense shock of potency shook Hank to his core, and his cock exploded with a pent-up cargo of hot cream inside his pants.
Kenny straightened and his gorgeous smile returned. “Oops,” he said softly. His voice was an earthquake that rattled Hank’s bones. “Better clean that up before it stains, hadn’t we?” His hands went to Hank’s pants and he undid the snap and zipper. Hank’s undershorts were soggy with the warm wealth of his come and Kenny sank to his knees and pulled the underwear down. He exposed Hank’s raging boner, hard as steel and red as a rose. Kenny leaned forward to slowly, methodically and with evident satisfaction, suck the cream from Hank’s prick.
Kenny moaned and sent another shock of sexual ecstasy through Hank’s body. He managed to push another last squirt of cum up his aching cock and Kenny eagerly licked it from the tip with a long, wet, slick tongue. “Fuck,” he said softly, “I needed this.”
Kenny’s oral attentions were nothing short of amazing. His mouth and tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, kissing, sucking, licking and lapping up every drop of cream he could, sucking on Hank’s cock and balls and somehow even managing to rim his hole without ever stripping him of his pants and shorts. Everything felt good, and the smell of Kenny surrounded and infused Hank with its glorious, sexy funk. From his manipulations and attention to detail, it was very evident that Kenny was a man highly skilled in the pleasures of the flesh, and a man who loved another man’s equipment with almost slavish devotion.
Kenny moaned in pleasure and hunger. He lapped it all up, and licked Hank’s prick and sucked on the head. Sharp shocks of bliss erupted from everywhere he touched, and it was almost too much to bear. Then he looked up and said, “All better?”
Hank could hardly breathe. He certainly couldn’t speak. His body shook with excitement and pleasure and he felt as if every other orgasm he’d ever experienced was simply leading up to this. He wanted to cum again, but his balls were drained. He wanted this to last forever, this feeling of total sexual satisfaction. “You’re doing fine, Hank. You’re doing great.” Kenny rose to his full height again. His own cock was at full mast, rising nearly to his chest and drooling a stream of honey down its thick, hard, massive shank. The head bloomed like a flower, full and ripe. He was the pure essence of masculine power and sex, just standing there, ready for anything.
“What… what are you?”
“Muscle Club, Hank. This is what it means to be in Muscle Club.” He brought his arms upward again and sent spasms of firm growth to his biceps and triceps. His lats spread out with thick, cabled brawn under each arm, and his mighty chest rose and spread itself across the expanse of his body, pushing outward and forward and shoving two fat nipples toward Hank’s face. A fog of rich, musky, masculine stink arose form each moist armpit. He was magnificent and perfect. “I assume I meet with your approval?”
Hank nodded, because it was all he could do. He was speechless before such godlike power and beauty. This was more than a man, and that was more than a prick. He was literally oozing with sex. It dripped off him in his sweat and pumped forth from his mighty cock, drooling down its thick inches and coating his massive balls in warm honey.
“Miguel and Barry are finishing up with your car. And I was wondering if you wanted to fuck around a little while you waited.” Kenny lowered his arms. His cock pumped up a fresh flow of precum. His scent was overwhelming. “Take your clothes off, Hank.”
Hank was frozen in place. Kenny was still tugging at him, licking his libido with a talented tongue and keeping his sex drive percolating. Kenny reached forward and gripped Hank’s collar, then deftly and easily ripped his shirt off. His admiration for Hank’s toned body made him amp up the tug, and Hank’s eyes closed and his breath grew shallow and he wanted—tried—to come again. Kenny moved his hand down Hank’s naked torso with admiration and desire, and it felt like he was being stroked by a thousand hands. “Fucking beautiful,” Kenny said softly. “Can’t wait to get you growing, dude.” His hands moved to Hank’s prick, throbbing with hard pulses. He surrounded his meat with his large hand, gripping him entirely, and sent a heavy tug at his brain, making his body shake. “So hot,” he said. “Let’s get your pants off, too. I want to see you naked. I want to see your ass and your legs.”
Kenny undressed Hank, stripping him bare, pulling his shoes and socks off, and leaving him standing in the grimy, oily, deliciously sexy garage completely naked and vulnerable. The two men, both nude and sporting raging hard-ons, considered each other for a few moments. Kenny’s eyes moved all over Hank’s small, compact form. He has a lithe, slender body, well muscled but with a swimmer’s build. It was easy to see the definition but his muscles were long, lean and streamlined. Kenny’s body was an overwhelming brutal display of thick, powerful brawn. He stood a foot and a half taller than Hank, and was about three Hanks broad at the shoulders.
“Fuck me, Hank, but you have a rockin’ bod. Looks like my man works out. Why are you hiding all that beauty under all those clothes?” He reached around and cupped Hank’s butt cheek in his warm palm. Kenny’s fingers crawled into Hank’s buttcrack and rubbed against his wet, warm hole. “Knock, knock,” he said, jokingly. “Can I come inside?”
The thought of allowing Kenny’s enormous prick to split him open made Hank scared and excited in equal measures. It was right there between them, pushing itself into his body. Hot, slick with precum and throbbing with insatiable power, Kenny’s cock was a beast that could not be tamed. He could feel it smear its wealth of honey over his skin, and wondered exactly how big it was.
Kenny seemed to feel Hank’s trepidation, and he whispered into his ear, “Don’t be scared, bro. We’re gonna do this so everyone has a good time. I’m gonna fuck that sweet, tight ass of yours, sure enough, and you’re gonna feel every thick pump of cum I jet inside you like fire.” He backed off, pulling his deft touch from Hank’s hole, and said, “First, you’re gonna suck me. Then you’re gonna fuck me. And when you’re done, you’ll be ready for everything I have. Every fat inch of me, Hank. You’ll be begging for it.” His lips parted slightly and his tongue darted forward, wetting his lips. “You like to suck cock?”
Hank swallowed drily. He nodded, looking at the biggest, most beautiful male appendage he’d ever seen. It rose majestically from between Kenny’s massive legs. The shaft was at least a thick as his wrist. It throbbed and pulsed and went up and up and up, rising nearly to Kenny’s enormous chest. The head glistened with precum, its mouth gaping open as it released its stream of warm, thick honey.
Kenny grabbed onto his erection at the base with both his hands. His muscles flexed and bulged with the effort of bending the mouth of the powerful-looking hard-on toward Hank’s face. “You want to suck my cock, Hank?”
It seemed impossible. Could he even get his jaw open enough to suck the head inside his mouth? The tip was drooling a steady stream of clear honey. Hank could feel the intense heat of it as it neared his face. The helmet was a delicious mushroom cap, glistening and red. “Do it, bro. Suck it. This is your ticket to Muscle Club, dude. Just kiss it, and let me initiate you into my world.”
An opalescent drop of pure white cream was swelling from the mouth of Kenny’s prick. He was cumming! He was actually producing a fat ball of sperm from the gaping mouth of his huge cock, without a single stroke or suck. The dude could seemingly spontaneously cum on command, and even control its volume and velocity! Hank’s head was spinning with fantasies of making his own prick just start fountaining a heavy shower of creamy, sticky, delicious cum by simply wishing it to happen.
The scent of Kenny’s power and strength was overwhelming. He was still tugging on Hank’s libido strongly, keeping Hank’s cock rock hard and making his body hot with need. Hank leaned forward and set his lips to the slick, honey-coated surface of Kenny’s dick and tasted his essence, salty and warm and sweet and delicious.
“Open wide, bro,” Kenny growled gently. “Drink it all.” He put his large hand behind Hank’s head and pushed his mouth over the fat head of his cock. A thick drizzle of transforming cum traveled up the fat inches of his cock and Hank sucked it inside his mouth, feeling it coat his tongue with its fire.
An eruption of sexual energy shook Hank and Kenny simultaneously. Kenny pumped a heavy gout of cream up his prick and it filled Hank’s mouth to overflowing. He swallowed greedily and hungrily and felt the warmth travel down his body, branching out like lava along his arms and through his trunk. He sucked more cream down his throat and Kenny groaned and sighed and pumped more and more cream as the other man began to swell with power.
It was subtle at first. In the few heartbeats as the transformation began and the agent traveled into Hank’s body, his frame shook and shuddered and his skin was on fire. Then hi muscles started to grow, and once the development began he took off very quickly and his body simply exploded with power.
His neck grew thick with cords. His shoulders stretched wider and wider. His back expanded and swelled with cables of brawn. He could feel the strength and power manifest and it drove his sexual hunger into overdrive. He was soon sucking harder and faster than Kenny was delivering the food that fed his growth, and Kenny started pumping his cream freely, shoving thick ropes of cum down Hank’s throat and watching the other man’s development as it spread everywhere on his growing body.
Hank’s arms inflated with power. Kenny watched as fibers of muscle grew into fingers of brawn that crawled along his arms, then swelled larger into cables that bloomed into fat balls that continued growing as Hank sucked his prick.
Hank’s back was spreading wider and wider. Plates of power manifested and multiplied, stretching across the expanse of his ever-expanding upper back. Kenny wondered what the man’s pecs looked like. He wanted to pull Hank off his cock and watch his whole body grow bigger and more beautiful, but it just felt too fucking great to let the man continue sucking his dick.
“Aw, fuck,” he said. Then he realized that Hank was laughing, or chuckling, as he sucked his cock. What did he feel? How good did he feel? Was he laughing because he felt good, or was he laughing because he knew he was a fucking amazing cocksucker?
Hank was laughing because he was simply giddy with pleasure. He had never felt anything like what he was experiencing at that moment. The sensation of growing stronger, of his body developing muscle as he swallowed the delicious fuel offered by the god before him, coupled with the overwhelming sexual bliss cascading everywhere over his skin, and the feeling that his balls were swelling larger and larger, and his asshole was tingling and throbbing, and his nipples were swelling and pulsing with perfect pleasure. His skin was on fire, his muscles throbbed and ached and swelled larger and larger, and his cock—
His cock was stiff as a board and hot as the sun and beating a drumbeat against his belly. He’d never been so hard in his life. He felt like his cock was being simultaneously licked, sucked, stroked, fucked and otherwise pleasured all at once and as intensely as it could possibly manage. His cock felt just amazingly, incredibly, miraculously, perfectly great. His cock had never felt better in his entire life, and it was growing bigger and bigger and bigger.
“Take it all, bro,” Hank growled deeply. “You want more? I got a lot more to give. You think you can take it all?”
Hank looked up and met Kenny’s turquoise gaze, nodding slightly. Yeah, he thought, yeah, give it all to me.
Kenny smiled. “You got it, bro.” A sudden thick gush of hot salty cum filled Hank’s mouth, gushing out at the corners. He gulped and guzzled it down, feeling its warmth branch and spread through his body. “More?” Kenny asked. He nodded again, and another gush, even fuller, filled his mouth. His body heated up and he closed his eyes and sucked on the swollen knob. More. He wanted more.
Kenny grabbed his head with both hands and pulled him forward and the fat, hard prick pushed against the back of his throat and full, thick gushes of cream were being shoved down his developing body. “Fuck, dude,” Kenny said softly, “you are fucking amazing. Here I come, dude. I’m gonna give you everything.”
It was an onslaught of cream. It was like the man’s cock was a hose and he’d turned on the spigot and his come was gushing out in an uncontrolled and uncontrollable rush. Hank opened his throat and the flood entered his guts and his body was suddenly hot as molten steel and exploding with muscular growth.
He could feel himself swelling and growing bigger and harder and thicker with every passing moment. His hunger increased with his size and it seemed suddenly that he couldn’t swallow fast enough, couldn’t get enough of Kenny’s amazing and delicious cream. It was pouring into him and shoving growth and strength and the pure, unfiltered essence of masculine power into every cell of his body.
“Yeah, bro,” Kenny said. “Grow for me. Bigger and bigger.”
Hank’s rock-hard cock suddenly arched up and swelled thicker by inches and started fountaining his own wealth of cream. He didn’t come in spurts, he was shoving a flood as thick and rich and full as Kenny’s up the expanding length of his prick and it bathed them both in his warm essence. His cock was exploding and his body was swelling larger and larger and larger. His bones cracked and shattered and lengthened to form a frame for the overwhelming development of swollen muscular perfection that was growing all over his body.
Bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger.
The hands on his head were pulling him away from the source of his pleasure. He could feel the huge cock extract from his throat, its plump head like an entire orange he had somehow managed to swallow, and then his jaw was forced wide and Kenny’s amazing, colossal cock was out of him and he was being pulled to his feet, his own monster cock still exploding with cream, and lips were on his, a tongue pushing inside his mouth, eager and hungry and talented, then arms embraced his body, the thickness of muscle on muscle, the smell of sex, and a voice at his ear, a deep and satisfying voice saying just two words into his ear.
“Fuck me,” Kenny demanded.
Hank looked at the other man, eye to eye, and kissed him soundly, then grabbed his huge form and shoved him forcibly toward the oil-stained garage floor. He fell with a resounding thud, literally shaking the ground and the surrounding building with his weight and size, and Hank grabbed Kenny’s ankles and positioned them onto his broadening shoulders, still inflating with muscle, opening his ass wide and filling his nostrils with the other man’s pungent scent.
Kenny’s ass was two beachballs of muscle, stretched into thick cables as his legs spread. Dark, wet fur lined the crevasse and there was his hole, pink and puckered and perfect. Hank grabbed onto his spouting cock and forced it downward, pointing the fountaining mouth toward Kenny’s asshole. With a grin of triumph and anticipation, he shoved his hips forward and plunged inside with one, hard, full, deep fuck. He sighed contentedly and was rewarded with a sudden gush of hot cream that erupted from Kenny’s monster cock and splattered all over his furry, muscular form. Kenny’s talented ass clamped down on his prick and squeezed hard, but it was no match. His iron rod was too hard to be overcome, and he squeezed his own asshole and made his prick expand inside the other man’s tight, hot hole.
Then he was pistoning his hips as he continued to come unabated, the wealth of his cream slicking the chute. When he hit bottom, shoving against the other man’s prostate, Kenny groaned in ecstasy and grit his teeth and shook with pure bliss.
Hank fucked him hard and deep. He kept coming. Gallons of cream emptying from the balls he slapped against the other man’s ass. He grabbed onto Kenny’s shoulder and leaned into the fuck and buried his sword inside, his whole body shaking with the perfection of their coupling and the feeling of pure bliss that erupted up his prick and throughout his majestic and towering form.
Kenny watched Hank continue to grow and develop even as the other man fucked his ass. He watched Hank’s chest inflate and bulge, the heavy plates of power expanding into globes of perfect brawn with heavy nipples growing wider and heavier as they were forced down the expanding surface of each muscular mound. His upper body widened and his shoulders swelled and his neck thickened and his face grew increasingly handsome. Fur sprouted across his flesh, winding its way like a river between the bulging muscles of his abdominals. A six-pack grew into an eight-pack, and then a ten-pack, and still he grew.
Kenny’s guts were being flooded with Hank’s unending flood of hot cream. His body was delivered into a state of perfect sexual bliss and contentment, receiving the food it craved in overwhelming abundance. And he began to grow, too.
The two men, locked in a continuous round of fucking and growing, watched each other change into men of such consummate beauty and muscular power that it became overwhelming. Hank fucked Kenny’s ass hard and true, literally fucking him bigger with each thrust of his magnificent and powerful cock. Kenny groaned and growled with pleasure, grabbing onto his own prick and pointing the fountaining tip at his mouth to consume his own delicious cream, filling up at both ends and swelling thicker with brawn. Hank watched the other man coming into his own mouth, the flow so copious and continuous that a glaze of warm cream fell across his growing muscles and swam into the deepening valleys between each swelling head.
They grew and grew, bigger and stronger and more beautiful with every passing moment, fucking and being fucked into even larger and more powerful versions of their already perfect forms.
“Fuck dude,” Kenny growled, “you feel so good.”
“You too,” Hank agreed. He pushed himself all the way inside and stopped, feeling his cock spewing his flood of cream, feeling the warmth surround his cock, feeling the quicksilver throbs of sexual bliss surrounding his cock like kisses all along its mammoth shaft and bulbous helmet.
Kenny’s prick, glistening and slick with cum, pulsed with final pumps of white cream that flowed across his mammoth body and sank into his skin. He folded his arms behind his head, making his biceps swell into ungodly huge balls of fibrous brawn, and smiled up at the man whose prick was fully buried inside his butt. “Feeling better?”
Hank laughed at the question, and pumped out a fat flood of cream to fill Kenny’s guts. “I feel amazing.” he looked down at his new body, nearly eight feet high and weighing who knew how many hundreds of pounds. Muscle was bulging everywhere. His chest was so large he almost couldn’t see over it. Everything was tingling and throbbing and pulsating with sex and power. “Are we done?”
Kenny grinned. “Not even close,” he answered. Then he nodded once, pointing with his chin toward the open garage door and Hank turned and saw two more monstrous and muscular men standing in silhouette. Barry and Miguel were now also at their utmost perfection, swollen huge with power and slowly stroking two more monsters between their legs, streaming with precum.
“I’m next,” Barry said. His dark skin looked like it was made of wet shadows. His eyes and teeth glowed as he leered and grinned and moved toward the pair of men in the middle of the garage.
“Not if I get there first,” Miguel countered, his voice gruff with need.
Hank’s ass was filled with someone’s cock. It was shoving deeply inside and pumping a flood of cream into his guts.
Looking down at himself, he watched his chest starting to expand with more muscular power. Someone’s arms surrounded him. Someone’s lips nuzzled his neck. Someone’s fingers pinched his thick nipples. His body shook with pleasure and he sighed with ultimate contentment as the next round of growth began.