A gay story: Imperius Thad (Muscle Domination) Rex’s phone vibrated, just about audible above the shower, which he quickly turned off. He struggled to open the stiff shower door, having to heave it slightly to get free. Drying his small hands on a nearby towel, he snatched his phone to check the notification: Instagram, telling him that somebody he followed had posted new content. Not the notification he was waiting for, but he clicked into it. He followed, or, rather, “ThadWorshipper” followed, only one account.
Thaddeus had uploaded a new gym video. Or a new-ish video. But didn’t look like it had actually been filmed today. Rex could usually tell if it was older material, even by a few days. He could pick up the subtle cues in his clothes and body. Here, Thad was being filmed from behind as he did lat pulldowns, the impossible broadness of his back swelling into enormity with each downward pull. Rex could tell that his triceps, which were not particularly involved in this exercise, were pumped. They bulged even more heavily than usual, so much so that they pressed into the side of his heavy pecs when he pulled the bar close to his chest, to the point that it reduced the exercise’s range of motion. Thaddeus definitely hadn’t done triceps since the start of the week. On Monday, he had sent his subscribers a teasing tricep-flexing video, when they were rigid and heavy with a gym pump. So the video was probably a few days old. Which probably meant that Thad was travelling and had built up some content to post. That must be why he hadn’t responded to his messages, Rex thought.
Rex watched the video over and over, dripping on the floor. Thad’s workouts were typically 4 hours long. Once a week they were followed by a massage and cupping session, which were sometimes filmed for his OnlyFans. He hadn’t uploaded one since last week though, and Rex was waiting eagerly for the next. He had made a request after the last one. In fact, he had made the request multiple times, and the messages were seen but not responded to. But he knew that didn’t mean that Thad himself had seen them. Rex had figured out that he had an assistant monitor the messages. He had a few million followers, so it was natural that he couldn’t check every message. But he always replied to tips of over 1000$. In his most recent request, Rex had tipped far, far more than that to get his attention.
No new notifications came in, so Rex watched the video one last time before clicking back to his own profile. ThadWorshipper had a single picture uploaded to its feed: Rex’s slight, feminine hand, with its scant few brown hairs gracing the knuckles, spread over an enormous aubergine.
He returned to the shower. By now, he was painfully hard, his small penis jutting out from his neatly trimmed bush. Even Thad’s non-explicit videos, his GymThad account, could cause Rex to spontaneously cum. He had watched just a snippet of a video once on the subway, surrounded by bodies and coats and bags, and was mortified to feel the hot wetness of an involuntary emission when the camera zoomed in on a where sweat had caused Thad’s gym vest to stick his back. He didn’t have enough left in his nutsack for that to happen this time. He had jerked off three times last night after sending the request and tip, thinking about Thad reading it, the phone tiny in his massive, calloused hand. Maybe he would consider it in the shower, as he rubbed himself clean of a day’s sweat. Would he click into Rex’s profile?
The thoughts had had Rex on his hands and knees on his living room’s hardwood floor, his head lowered, imagining the muscle giant standing above him, alternatingly praising him for being such a good fan, and chastising him for being so tiny, so scrawny, hairless, unmanly and pathetic. Rex came three times directly onto the floor. After the first and second times, he had put his phone in a different room, and tried to do something wholesome. Read a book, watch a movie, something unrelated to Thad. And each time the thoughts had started again, and he ran to retrieve his phone, finding his inbox empty again, but still having fallen so deeply into the fantasy that he needed to relieve himself just to function. After the last time, he ended up sleeping on the floor, exhausted, wrapped in a thin blanket next to his final, pathetic, tribute.
So now, as his penis once again jutted stubbornly from its little bush, Rex resigned himself to another quick bout, knowing that he probably wouldn’t make it to work if he didn’t exorcise himself of his crazed lust.
He eased himself to his knees, positioning himself in the middle of the shower’s hot jet. He didn’t have to be on his knees, but recently it was the position that worked best for him, especially after a few sessions. Kneeling was the primordial position of worship. And it was the position that gave the best view. At least, that was what Rex imagined. Every time Thaddeus posted a picture from that perspective, Rex sent an obscenely large tip, as if he was trying to train him to post from it more often. He imagined it as he positioned himself under the hot water. The dark tangle of pubic hair, and the thick trail of it that emerged to climb up the deep crevasses of his abs, that split at each intersection, sending exploratory branches of hair to hug each defined muscle. And then, Rex’s favourite spot, where the hair reached the pecs, those impossibly massive pecs, and tangled its way into the valley where the pecs, relaxed, pressed against each other, competed for space, and created a dark cave.
Rex imagined the smell there, that thickly hairy split between those two globes of muscle. It must be so hot in there, so sweaty. Especially after a chest workout, when his pecs pressed together to push those enormous, barbell-bending weights. When the salty perspiration poured down those muscle mountains in rivulets, thin streams over thick boulders. It must gather in there, Rex thought, trapped by the hair, carried around for the day. Maybe on a day when he didn’t have time to shower, it would really grow musky there. And would distil as the sweat evaporated. And then, he thought, furiously pumping his little dick, when Thad walked, with his giant, long-legged stride, that caused his chest to heave, each pec bouncing, it would emit a little spray of aged, hot sweat. Like a cologne made of pure testosterone.
Still on his knees, Rex imagined this to be the hot water from the shower, pouring down over him, as he rapidly jerked, getting faster as he felt the pulsing heat in his prostate swell and rise. Please Sir, he thought, keep showering me. His imagination of the scene was so thorough that he could smell the salt in the sweat, the musk of the man-giant, the chemical tang of the testosterone that must ooze from every pore of his obscenely muscled frame.
His imagination went further, to the unknown, the mystery that lay below Thad’s dark, thick tangle of pubes. He had never done a full reveal on his OnlyFans. The most he had ever shown was when he had done a posing session in his old gym shorts, a pair of XXLs that had barely fit him 100 lbs of muscle ago, and were now so tight to be practically painted onto
his legs in the short video. His bulge then, usually only seen as a heavy bulk swinging in his shorts, was pasted to his thigh, a long, thick hillock against the mountain of his quads. The head looked to be about the size of Rex’s fist. And that was soft.
The video had immediately leaked from his OnlyFans, with commentators on different forums and social medias ridiculing it. Impossible. Some sad doubters even overlayed rulers over stills from the video, using a doorframe in the background as reference. It would be 14 inches flaccid if it was real. No way, they said. Pathetic, attention bait. Someone even claimed to recognise the dildo brand that he must have stuffed down there by the one visible vein and the size of the cockhead.
Rex wrote angry rebuttals to as many of these as he could find. The giant bodybuilder had always leant into the eroticism of mystery, and had never revealed his height, nor measured his muscles. He mostly worked out in a home gym, with bespoke equipment that could handle both his weight and the weight he needed to move to keep growing. So no one knew his true size. Fans guessed somewhere between 7 and half feet and 8 and half feet tall. At even the most conservative estimate, Rex argued, he would have to have a form of gigantism, and how could he have anything but a massive cock. Ten inches would be proportional. He’s just a hung giant. Or so he had argued from his various ThadWorshipper accounts.
Approaching his climax, Rex summoned this image of Thad in as close detail as he could. He had a near eidetic memory for every detail of his body: he could remember the scatter of freckles on his pecs, barely visible under tangles of dark hair; the heavy plumpness of each nipple, which he suspected to be enlarged slightly through pump play; the dramatic jut of his Adam’s apple, and the deep, gravelly voice that emerged from it.
He heard it now. “Keep pumping. Pump faster for daddy. Let daddy see your pathetic squirt of cum.”
“Yes Sir,” Rex replied out loud, his frantic fantasy almost real to him.
He imagined Thad in the tight, black gym shorts, several sizes too short. He imagined the massive man flexing his thighs, just as he had in the video, and the sides of the shorts fraying, then bursting, and slipping slightly down his thighs, revealing the barest, barest frame of his shaft, exactly where the video cut off. But he kept the scene going in his head, and the shorts fell completely away, slowly exposing an anaconda-thick cock that, freed of its restraints, flopped heavily and loudly against the massive muscle of the bodybuilder’s thigh. Rex could hear the slap as it thwacked against hard muscle, rebounded, and fell heavily again. He could see it grow slowly to erection, thickening and lengthening.
Rex was hurtling towards his orgasm now, his wrists pained from jerking himself. But he picked up the pace all the same, driven to manic lust over what he knew must be hiding in the giant’s pants. He imagined the flop again, the heavy weight of it. And a dribble of pre- cum dropping from it. He imagined pressing his own small cock against it, and it not even covering the apple-sized cock-head.
He opened his eyes, and looked upwards, allowing the hot water to run over his face. He superimposed the image of Thad into his small shower, saw the swell of his muscles pressing and pressing against the wall until the tiles cracked, his shoulders splitting the wall, the shower door bursting open, his arm-length cock spitting warm, pre-cum over him.
And then the heat that had started deep in Rex reached its peak, and exploded, spraying thin spurts of cum onto the shower wall.
And Thad slipped out of his imagination, and the shower walls repaired themselves, and the door was re-assembled, and once again he was a small, pipsqueak of a man, stiff and sore from kneeling, watching his tiny load of cum run down the bathroom tiles.
Completely emptied, Rex finished his shower, quickly dressed, and headed to work. He left his phone at home, knowing, even drained of the slightest possibility of an erection, that he would be unable to focus with it nearby, with the possibility of a reply present.
*****
Often, during mysterious weeks where his libido was, for some reason, in manic overdrive, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sending tips to Thad, even at work. The larger the tip he sent, the more connected he felt to the giant, the more fully he could imagine him seeing it, clicking through to his profile, and finding the invitation of his picture, with its location marking Rex’s city and neighbourhood. And, he would feel, then, the first pearl of pre-cum emerge, and he would have to beg off whatever meeting he was in, quickly relieving himself in the bathroom.
So he went through his work day as a kind of automaton, speeding through complex coding tasks, somehow helped by the soul exhaustion that occurred when he overdid his Thaddeus addiction.
His manager had scheduled a meeting with him at the end of the day, which Rex bemoaned as delaying him from checking his phone. Which was all he was thinking about as he was told that he had been promoted, with a hefty pay bump to go with it.
His work had been outstanding, he was told. Later, he would search the memory of the meeting, and find that he, more or less, reacted to everything with appropriate noises. But, mentally, the mention of the pay rise had distracted him, had his heart racing, and even the first tremors of an erection growing feebly in his tight work pants. More money meant more Thad. It meant more tips, it meant private messages, it meant he was more likely to notice him. Deep, in the primal parts of his brain, where lust trumped logic, it meant Thad would get even bigger. Rex had watched Thad eat hundreds of dollars worth of food a day, had watched years of his cheat-day videos with a strange fascination, his fascination with the giant increasing as the man systematically demolished a table heaving with barely-seared steak and roast-chicken, and washed it down with shakes that must have amounted to half a kilo of protein powder.
His conscious brain knew the man to be filthy rich, with hundreds upon hundreds of worshippers probably sending as much money to him as Rex did. But somehow he still believed that there was a direct connection to his size and Rex’s libations. He had been one
of the first to send him money, far before the OnlyFans had started, when it was just a PayPal link in his profile. When his followers had numbered in the hundreds, and he was a just-out-of-college athlete, buff, and freakishly tall, but not yet gargantuan. A few dollars a day, with encouraging messages for the growing bodybuilder. Buy yourself some whey!
Treat yourself to a steak dinner! You’re growing out of those vests, buy yourself something new… Sir! And as Thad had grown from a tree-like youth into a muscle mountain, into a true biology-defying freak of nature, so too did his fan base grow, and so too did Rex’s tips. The larger Rex’s competition grew, the more money he felt he had to send to maintain that connection. Thad would have noticed, surely, if one of his earliest supporters had lost interest in his growth.
Or, that was how his deep-brain rationalised the situation. So every time he sent a tip, a sensitive little trigger fired, and he could almost physically see the bodybuilder growing in front of him: the basketball sized pecs expanding until they were the size of exercise balls; the erect nipples begging to be sucked, getting so big that they would fill his mouth; the thighs barely growing fast enough to support his bigger frame, then exploding outwards in heaped slaps of muscle; his feet, impossibly, growing too, keeping the giant upright; and the lats, spreading wider and wider, as if they were great wings, flaring behind him, keeping him in that perfect, beautiful v-shape; his arms, already looking nothing like human arms, now almost as wide as they were long, as biceps and triceps eased outwards, like inflating balloons. At this point in his fantasy, Rex would imagine Thad’s Herculean face, on the pedestal of a glorious jut of black beard, almost lost among the impossibly pulsing muscle. And the beautiful tangles of dark body hair, which had been hidden under the new muscle growth, would burst suddenly from between these valleys, until he was almost carpeted in dark, masculine hair. And finally, he would allow himself to imagine the posing trunk growing. The fabric, in his fantasy, was impossibly generous, and grew and grew and grew until, finally, it almost failed, and sagged forward. And he imagined a tearing, a ripping, as his still growing cock burst out, accompanied by two hairy bowling balls.
“Rex? Rex?” A finger snap.
“Sir. Sorry sir, just, just really blown away.”
His manager laughed. Rex could feel a hot, wet stain spreading in his thankfully dark pants. He dropped his hands to his lap to cover it.
“Well, I don’t think you even stopped for lunch today pal, no wonder you’re a bit light-headed. I think I saw your brain turn off for like, ten seconds there.”
“S-sorry sir, just really fell into a flow today, barely noticed the time pass.”
He stumbled and stuttered through the rest of the meeting, feeling almost feverishly hot under his work shirt. His manager gently chided him for not eating, and encouraged to keep up the good work, just not at the expense of his body. Rex almost forgot that he had had a body.
He sped home after work, as much as was possible in Friday evening traffic, feeling guilty all the time about having fallen into his Thad muscle-growth fantasy without having given a tip that day. He only allowed himself to imagine the giant growing bigger after a tip. He felt it was an insult to do so otherwise. This way, Rex felt he was helping to make him bigger, by sending him both the cash to get there, and, in some strange way, the thoughts too.
He got home and scouted out his phone. Still no notifications. And no new uploads either. He sent the tip anyway, made it a bit bigger to reflect his new salary. He didn’t dare jerk off again though, he had already, mortifyingly, cum in his manager’s office. Thankfully he barely had enough cum built up to form a stain.
After the heavy tip, he felt suddenly proud of himself for his promotion, and his ability to support Thad. He decided to order steak for himself. Or, actually, why not two he thought, clicking through the various restaurant options on a food delivery app. He added a breast of chicken as a side, feeling giddy. When the meal came, it took him almost two hours to eat. He did so watching an old cheat meal video of Thad from when he had first started his Instagram, still impossibly big, but with a boyishness that he had lost as he had inflated to inhuman proportions. The younger Thad was methodically working his way through a series of steaks, half a cow’s worth. It was the biggest meal he had ever had at that point. The day before, Rex had gotten his first job in tech, and was suddenly in receipt of a salary that far outsized his small life. And so Thad had received his first quadruple-digit tip from him. In Rex’s mind, he sat at the other side of this table, proudly having paid for the growing man’s meal.
Overly full and sleepy from his meat feast, Rex stumbled almost drunkenly to bed, feeling bloated and too hot: the effects of too much protein in too small a body. As he got into bed, he felt the pulse of this heat even more, and thought, almost feverishly, that this is what it must feel to grow: to turn food into muscle.
His dreams that night were incredibly vivid, though barely comprehensible. People were absent, but bodies were everywhere. Or parts of bodies, overblown, huge, hairy, muscled, slapping against one another, grinding, rubbing.
*****
He woke in a sweat, the sheets tangled and damp, far later than his usual rise. He was so distracted that he had finished his shower before he even thought to check his phone. In
fact, it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen it in a while, a realisation that brought on a manic search and rescue mission that eventually recovered it from the tangle of his sweat-soaked bed sheets.
A black screen greeted him, which didn’t change after a few clicks. Out of battery. He plugged it in and paced the room waiting for it to get enough charge to turn on, and then for the home screen to properly load. When it did, it loaded blank, with no red dots to indicate a notification. Resigned, he opened his Instagram anyway, at which point he felt a pulse- quickening buzz, and saw red.
Not a message. Just a new post alert. Rex felt himself deflate slightly, but he clicked into Thad’s profile.
The post was a blurry screencap in which Thad’s giant frame could be seen in a classic, arms out front double bicep pose, while another, smaller frame was pressed against him. No, Rex realised, was massaging him. He had finally posted another massage video.
Meaning he may have fulfilled his request.
The screencap directed the viewers to his OnlyFans, where the full video could be watched. His hands shaking, Rex clicked through, revealing a two-minute video.
Thad stood in a loose stringer vest and tiny shorts in a hip-looking massage room, different from the one he usually shot in. This room looked like it belonged more to a luxury spa than a sports clinic. Rex passively filed such details as he watched Thad’s videos.
The vest Rex recognised immediately by its raw neck and ripped arm holes. Thad had bought it from himself as a reward for hitting one million followers: it was a prop from a superhero film. Before Thad bought it, it had never actually been worn. This was because it had not been made for a human, but for a comic-book character: the Hulk. Liberated from a life-sized hulk statue in a studio museum, Thad had gone briefly viral wearing it. News media had studiously clipped the video that Thad had uploaded so that the melon sized swelling of his bulge wasn’t visible. Social media, however, had no such qualms, and Thad’s following almost immediately jumped to the two million mark.
The hulk-tank hung loosely from Thad’s broad shoulders, its straps settled between his shoulder muscles. The thin strings of the vest sat over his nipples, though their plump pinkness peeked out from behind the fabric. The stringer accentuated his size, making it look as if he had just transformed into a muscle giant, and had exploded out of a t-shirt.
Thad spread his arms, and someone emerged from behind the camera to take the stringer off. Not quite a stranger, the smaller man was sometimes visible in the background of videos, and was assumed to be an assistant or personal trainer. Or masseuse. He was tiny next to Thad, though Rex guessed him to be at least 6 foot 6. He had a swollen, bulbous look that only those with very high muscle mass and very low body fat could achieve, and even then he looked miniscule next to Thad. In fact, that’s what the video seemed to be poking fun at, as the smaller man wasn’t tall enough to actually manoeuvre the vest off Thad’s gargantuan frame.
Thad’s thick, black beard was broken by his cheeky grin during this process. A few winks were thrown to the camera as his assistant struggled to strip him. Twice Thad had flexed his pecs, causing the fabric of the vest to bounce of out the small man’s reach. The second time he did so, the assistant had slapped the pec, causing that pec’s nipple to pop into erectness. Between this and the slap’s meaty thwack, Rex felt momentarily light-headed, as if his small dick could even hold enough blood to cause such a reaction.
Rex rewound that section a few times before letting the video continue, allowing that sound to sear into his brain.
Eventually, the assistant had to clamber onto the massage bed behind Thad to remove the vest. Then, Thad ran through a posing routine with his assistant. The smaller man now had a clearly visible bulge showing as a hard thickness against his trained thighs. Even though he looked like he had been drawn to life by a muscle fetishist, the assistant’s poses looked pathetic next to Thad’s.
When Thad moved into a side chest pose, which inflated his pecs into a bulging globes of straining muscle, the assistant fell out of his own routine, and reached a hesitant hand toward the side he had slapped earlier.
Whoever was holding the camera moved in closer, and showed the bodybuilder’s presumably massive hand being completely overtaken by Thad’s chest. Volume up full, Rex could hear the light slapping sound of flesh on flesh as the assistant tried in vain to encircle that globe, and the rustle of his barbell-earned callouses against the dark, wiry hair that accentuated Thad’s massiveness. After a few moments of caressing, the bodybuilder’s thumb found Thad’s fat, heavy nipple, which it bent slightly back, then released, causing it to wiggle.
Rex hurriedly paused the video, but was too late to even touch himself: his cock had jetted a thick stream of cum across his carpeted floor, in a quantity that he hadn’t seen in years.
Feeling a darkness encroach from the corner of his vision, Rex thought he was about to faint until another spurt joined the previous one, shooting more cum even further.
He let his vision fully return, and his heartbeat to relax, before he pressed play on the last 30 seconds.
Thad’s assistant flicked his fat, pink nipple again, this time with the camera zooming so that it took most of the screen. It zoomed out, showing the assistant reaching for a nearby bottle of massage oil, which he squirted judiciously into the palm of his hand, then spread slowly over his thickly, calloused fingers.
Thad, meanwhile, was miming pain in his chest. The assistant feigned a concerned look before pushing both hands into the crevice between Thad’s huge, hairy pecs, as if trying to massage the muscle. In response, the muscle giant rotated his shoulders down and inwards and started pressing his arms slowly together, mimicking the movement of a pec fly and causing the two globes of his pecs to flex, swell and push together.
He was doing it, Rex realised. He was fulfilling the request. And Rex had just emptied himself of cum.
Thad was marked out by normal humans by the entirety of his body. From other bodybuilders, even those rare few who topped 7 foot, he was still an outlier. In terms of proportions, however, it was his chest that marked him out. His pecs were so bulbously heavy, and jutted so far from his body, that they were out of proportion even on him. As he slowly brought his arms closer together to flex them to their biggest size, the assistants hands were forced out from between them, still slick with massage oil. His face mimed pain, as if the pressure of the pecs pressing together had hurt him. Rex wanted to believe they
had. When he considered how much weight the giant pressed, he thought that they could probably have crushed the assistant’s fingers.
Thad sighed dramatically and muttered “useless”. The camera zoomed in on that hairy valley between his pecs, now shining with massage oil, and the video cut.
Rex mustered his will power and resisted touching himself, though his cock was red from the strength of his erection. He hadn’t gone as far as Rex had asked him to, which he hadn’t actually expected. But he had started the fantasy, or referenced it. That he was sure of. But there was something else about the video that was triggering some non-libidinous neuron in his brain. Something he had missed.
He played it again, closing his eyes during the nipple play portion so he didn’t spontaneously cum again. He still didn’t consciously notice anything, but the feeling of having missed something grew stronger. He pressed play again, trying to look beyond the screen-hogging giant.
He paused it at thirty seconds in, scrubbed back a few seconds and played again. He inhaled, sharply.
In the background of the video, just about visible for a few frames, was a logo. A logo that belonged to a luxury hotel. A luxury hotel that happened to be in Rex’s city. In fact, one that happened to be pretty near his neighborhood.
And then Rex realised that the massage room itself had been familiar. He had received a massage there himself several years ago, part of his Christmas bonus from his company. He remembered the masseuse, a muscular young man, probably still in college, towering over him, and how exquisite it had felt to feel the power of his large hands manipulating him.
He snapped back to himself. Thad was in his city. It must have been to here that he had been travelling. Gears whirred in Rex’s head and, as they did, he mechanically dressed himself. By the time he had made a decision to go to the hotel, he was already dressed for it.
*****
Twenty minutes later, a slightly sweaty Rex arrived at the grandiose hotel doors, with no plan in mind other than to show up and be physically close to the muscle giant. Like a scrap of iron drawn to a magnet, Rex had simply started moving towards Thad once he realised that he was in his field. The walk to the hotel had been a blur, the autopilot mode that got Rex through work having kicked in for some reason.
The doorman greeted him and ushered him inside. “Where is the gentleman destined for?” he asked.
Rex had to push past his brain fog to think of an answer. His stomach, which had gone without breakfast, grumbled.
“The restaurant,” he said.
“Of course, Sir. Take the door on the right,” the doorman directed. “And bon appétit.”
A few moments later, Rex found himself seated in a swanky dining room for quite an early lunch. There were only a few other patrons in the room.
Still without a plan, Rex decided that he might as well order food, and buy himself time to come up with a plan while eating. A plan to achieve what, exactly, he didn’t yet know. But some part of him hoped that the almost fulfilment of his request, coupled with doing so in his city, meant something. At the very least he wanted to see the usually hermit-like giant in person. He would probably die happy if he could even just walk past him in the hallway.
He would eat and try to book a room, he decided. And he could ask if they had a gym, and maybe about the massage services, and try to get some information about their extra-large guest. Maybe his floor…He would try to talk to a female receptionist. A man would intimidate him. He would be charming, and get her to mention the unusual guest. “Can he fit in the
lifts,” he would ask, from a purely technical interest, and she would say no, and mention the floors he had to ascend, or not, and …
And…
And all the plans fell away to nothing as a slight shake in the floor, and rattle of cutlery, announced the entry of Thad to the dining room, his assistant in tow.
Nothing could have prepared Rex for the sight of him, and how the screens he had seen him through had so thoroughly failed to represent his incredible, gargantuan size.
Suddenly, that image was blocked.
“Has Sir made his choice?” a waitress asked.
Rex hurriedly looked through the menu and ended up ordering some kind of chicken dish with a French name. When the waitress left, Thad and his assistant had taken their seats. Thad had taken a booth seat. Meant to fit two or three, he had barely squeezed into it, and his massive legs were spread out in front of him to avoid knocking the table over.
He was mid-conversation with his assistant, seated opposite him, when he made eye contact with the staring Rex. Just for a moment, but Rex found himself compelled, almost hypnotically, to lower his head. He sat, then, staring at his lap for several minutes, terrified or raising his gaze.
When he did build the courage to look up again, fake-casually assessing the dining room, he noticed that the assistant had left. It was then that he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and a thumb pressing into his neck, keeping him facing forward.
Then, heat by his ear, and the slightest abrasion from moustache hair.
“My boss,” he heard, “has let me know that you are bothering him. Yes, he is big, yes he is worth looking at. But if you do not stop ogling, I will have you kicked out.”
And then the pressure, and heat, were gone, and he was again staring at his lap, fixating on a widening dark spot of pre-cum.
After a few minutes, he allowed himself to raise his head, slightly, and tried his best to studiously ignore the behemoth that was taking up half the room. He inspected the other patrons, the decor, the wait staff, the menu. He cast casual, passing glances around the room, with the sole intention of getting a half-second glimpse of Thad.
Then his meal came, cautiously presented on a delicate plate. And as he looked up to thank the waitress, he noticed Thad’s meal coming too, with a team of waitstaff to bring out heavy, trivet-like plates heaped with food.
He tried to focus on his own plate, on the slow cutting of food, but he couldn’t help but glance up, feeling a deep burning of lust as Thad, maybe even spending Rex’s money, demolished an entire kitchen’s worth of food. Rex thought he could almost see him grow in real time, could see his t-shirt get that bit tighter, his chest fuller, his traps lifting, his arms bulging.
In fact, after a couple casual, passing glances, he was sure that this was actually happening. He could see, as Thad cut a steak, working his knife back-and-forth, a slight fraying at his t- shirt’s shoulder, as the movement caused his muscles to bunch and engorge.
For the second time, then, he felt weight and heat, and scrunched his eyes as he felt the assistant’s large hand completely engulf his shoulder, and a responding dribble of pleasure dampening his pants.
“A man like you,” the assistant says, “does not get to lay eyes on a man like that. If we catch you looking again, I’m going to snap you in half. And after that,” he said, pointing to his boss with a muscle-heavy arm, he’s going to do the same.”
Rex, scrunching his eyes closed, had to concentrate hard to avoid cumming. He felt bad about his earlier dismissal of the assistant. That hand was large, realised, and incredibly powerful.
Staring at his lap, he almost jumped from his seat when the waitress asked him how his meal was going, looking with concern at the half-touched chicken. Everything was good, he assured her.
“But,” he said, gesturing her slightly closer as he had a brainwave, “can I make an unusual request?”
She raised her eyebrows at what he asked, but she nodded and left.
Rex returned to his meal, slowly working his way through his small plate of food, eyes trained on the shrinking portion of chicken.
Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the kitchen with a tray-sized plate heaped with dripping steaks, walked swiftly past him, and stopped at Thad’s table. She slowly lowered the heavy plate, and leant forward to exchange a whisper with the giant. Then she pointed to Rex’s table.
Thad looked his way, and Rex allowed himself a microsecond of eye-contact before he lowered in his head, in what he hoped would be understood as contrition, or reverence. He kept it lowered for five minutes.
When he looked up, the big man had finished half of the plate, and was licking meat juices from his fingers.
The assistant was, again, missing. Rex resisted the urge to scan the room for him, and instead worked on finishing the last few scraps of meat on his plate.
As he took his last bite, he again felt the heavy pressure from the bigger man’s hand, and then the heat from his breath.
“You’ve been granted… an audience,” he said, and placed a keycard on Rex’s table. “Be there, waiting, in a suitable position. Know that you might still be getting snapped in half.”
Rex felt hot and cold at the same time, and even lost the erection that had bothered him since Thad had entered the room. Fantasy had merged with reality, and his body didn’t know how to react. He took a deep breath, exhaled, gently dabbed his face with a napkin, and rose from the table. Focusing on the moment to moment of his breathing, he allowed himself to slip into his once-again helpful autopilot mode, and let his consciousness rest somewhere at the back of his brain, watching himself as he paid for his meal, bantered with the waitress, and asked for directions to the room displayed on the card.
“That’s the private massage suite, Sir,” the waitress said. She eyed Thad, clearly knowing that it was he who had rented it. “You must be… the masseuse?”
“Yes,” Rex heard himself say. He drummed his slim fingers on the desk. “Small hands are sometimes needed for those hard-to-reach places.”
“I can imagine,” she said, her face not betraying any emotion. Would she be jealous, he thought. No, women couldn’t appreciate men in this way. Not when you know that you could have been born in such a body, that you share the same anatomical features, but nothing close to the same anatomy. The worship of a difference that contains a sameness.
She handed him back his credit card and the room key, and listed off a complex set of directions to the room.
Ten minutes later, Rex found himself in the room from this morning’s video. It was huge, he realised, and had not actually been the one he had been massaged in. This one was
palatial, a veritable suite. Everything was oversized, including the massage table, as if it had been specially built for Thad. It was only the perspective in the video, and the size of the two stars, that had made the room seem small. One star, Thad corrected himself, dismissing the assistant from his mind, the memory of his looming largeness dissipating.
Rex didn’t waste much time examining the place, anticipating Thad’s arrival. What would the correct position be? Should he be on the massage table, his ass raised in the air? Should he be clothed for it?
In Rex’s fantasies with Thad, his own actions had only come after permission. He couldn’t imagine waiting naked for him. The idea that Thad would want to see him naked was absurd to him. Not without first exercising his power, maybe making him wait, making him doubt. In many of Rex’s fantasies, he never removed his clothes, was never even touched by Thad.
Even the thought of being denied by the giant had given him many sessions of intense pleasure.
Rex realised, then, that he already knew the correct position, and lowered himself to his knees, tipping his head forward so he was looking only to the floor.
Time passed, interminably, until Thad’s weight announced his approach, the muffled thud- thud of his footsteps on the heavily carpeted floor outside. Rex couldn’t tell, from the sound, whether he was alone or not. The door lock dinged softly. He heard a hand press down on the door handle.
Rex waited. The door hadn’t yet been opened. He was waiting. Seconds ticked on. Had he changed his mind? Of course he had, Rex thought. It was just an act. How could he lower himself to engage with a manlet like me.
Then, the door blasted open, shut heavily, and the thuds of heavy footsteps entered the room. There was a rustle of cloth, and clanking of what Rex assumed to be a belt buckle hitting the floor. Then, heavy steps, and the vibrations that came in their wake, approached him. Though staring at the floor, Rex could feel that the big man was right above him through almost every sense. His body, even when still, was so heavy, so oversized, that it generated sound. His deep breaths raised his chest, his exhales settled them with a soft slap. The same motion caused his arms to lift slightly from his body then settle back to it, the sound of muscle against muscle intoxicating. Rex had once downloaded one of his workout videos and isolated that very sound, had fallen asleep to a loop of it.
And, for the very first time in his life, Rex could smell the giant: the subtle, hit of testosterone. Of sweat. Rex had once gone horseback riding and Thad’s scent brought the memory back. When he was on the horse’s back, head against his neck, he smelled something like this.
The smell of a large, powerful animal.
Touch, Rex knew, would be denied him for a while. As would taste.
As the giant shifted his weight, however, Rex got his first close-up look at Thad. At his feet.
They were, obviously, big. Powerful, too, to hold up not just Thad’s massive body, but also the barbell bending loads he squatted. They looked almost muscular. Each ran what looked to be the length of Rex’s arm, from his elbow to the tip of his slight fingers. Thad’s feet were topped by sparse tangles of black hair. For just the briefest moment, Rex allowed himself to imagine himself reaching a hand out to run his fingers through such a tangle. His feet must be stiff from the workouts, he thought, in need of massage. He felt a fresh wetness emerge from his penis.
Thad’s body continued to make its soft noises. He, however, remained silent. Rex knew that he would not be the one to break the silence. He had to divert his eyes from the giant’s feet, however, afraid that he would cum too soon.
Seconds past, then minutes. Rex felt his back stiffen, and his knees were pained from kneeling for so long. However, he refused to lose focus, convinced that any show of weakness would disgust Thad. He would do anything he could to simply stay in the room for as long as possible with him. He even modulated his breathing so that he barely made a sound.
Eventually, after a minute or two of waiting, he heard Thad’s voice. A voice he thought would be familiar, but hearing it in person, feeling its deep vibration in the air, was completely new. It was like feeling something physical in the air hit him.
“You may look up.”
Rex gulped, and felt his neck raise slowly, incredibly slowly, as if he was a puppet on a string. The broad feet disappeared from view, and thick, meaty calves replaced them. Then, Thad’s knees, above which hung the thick, heavy slabs of quadricep muscles.
“Stop.”
Rex stopped. Only the first half of Thad’s monstrous thighs were in view. They were so big that they looked as if they hung from his body, crowding downward toward his knee with layers and layers of straining muscle. Even unflexed they were taut, rigid, carved confrontations of muscle. As Thad shifted his weight from foot to foot, slightly flexing each thigh as he did, the muscles bulged into obscenity, swelling outwards to an impossible size. Each was bigger than Rex’s torso, significantly so, and broader around then Rex’s puny arm span. Like a smaller animal hitching a ride on a large one, Rex could have attached himself to those trunks of muscle and barely have been noticed.
Struggling to maintain his view, and fighting the urge to look up and behold the giant in full, Rex tried his hardest to fixate on what was directly in front of him. He knew, however, what the next perspective would bring. If he was allowed to raise his head further, Rex would be seeing the only part of Thad that he had never seen. He was desperately suppressing a near mania that was bubbling up from the knowledge that Thad’s manhood was suspended directly above his head. The mystery was stoking this flame: was he wearing shorts, underwear, a posing pouch … nothing at all? He thought back to those few glimpse that had given his fans: the flopping that would be visible as he stood up from an exercise, the swinging weight in loose shorts as he walked towards the camera, the heaving, swollen
bulge that, as he had continued to wear shorts that he had grown out of, tautened the fabric, and wore out the elastic of the waistband that dared to contain it.
Rex, imagining that he could feel the heat generated by the thing, heard a drop of spittle hit the floor. His own, he realised. He was drooling like a dog at dinnertime, and he could feel his pathetic little dick straining towards the giant, towards its master. It was salivating too, and Rex could feel that his underwear was completely soaked through in pre-cum.
Minutes passed with Rex, straining to hold his position, staring at the beginning of Thad’s thighs, hypnotised by the slow flexing and relaxing, bulging and contracting, of those monstrous muscle masses.
Rex had to wonder if he would get beyond this level of sight. He imagined the muscle man raising a foot to put on his head, and shoving him back to the floor. Would he be allowed to hear Thad get dressed? Maybe, as he shimmied and jumped to get into his pants, he would hear the slap of cock against thigh. That memory alone would sustain fantasy sessions for years.
His reverie was broken by a single word: “ThadWorshipper.”
He knows, Rex realised. And he knew the whole time. The restaurant, the assistant, the act. “You can speak when you’re spoken to.”
Rex gulped. “Yes sir. I run that account.” “And others, over the years, correct?”
Rex, trembling with the effort of maintaining his position, left out a small croak, realising that his service had been noticed.
“Y-Yes Sir. A number of other, um, accounts, paypals, and so on.” “Return your head to the floor.”
Rex did so immediately, grateful for the ground’s support.
“Yes, you were one of the first to find me. I remember. When I was barely out of college, and relying on tips to buy protein powder. You were one of the first body builders.”
Rex felt the pressure of a foot on his head, pushing him gently into the carpet. Then the pressure was gone, and a toe was lodged under his chin, lifting it slowly, easing his view upwards until, all of a sudden, all of Thad loomed above him. “Well, you didn’t build your own body, that’s for sure. But you helped to build this.”
Rex’s vision would have swam if he allowed it to. Thad was naked except for a red posing pouch, in which was stuffed the largest, heaviest, bulge that Rex could have imagined. The pouch must have been handmade, there was no way that a human would need that much
fabric. But on Rex, it was taut, and visibly straining from the weight of what it contained. The stretchy fabric clung to a thickly veined pipe that, impossibly, must have been a penis.
No, he thought, it was impossible. And for just a moment, he wondered about those naysayers on social media and forums, who calculated the impossibility of a human sustaining a manhood this size. But then he raised his sight beyond the bulge, and saw the herculean face looking down at him through pecs that heaved and bounced as Thad slowly inhaled and exhaled, huge pillows of muscle that Rex could have sat on, comfortably. He was not human, Rex thought.
If he was left in any doubt, the huge man reached an arm behind him, and Rex heard a metal snick as a catch released. The posing pouch burst off the giant, and, no longer constrained, a pole-thick cock exploded outwards, slapped Rex so hard in the face that he was knocked sideways.
Sprawled on the floor, he winced. Not from pain, though, even though he knew it should have hurt, but from the convulsions that were spreading from his own manlet-hood, and the pulses of cum he was spraying into his underwear and pants.
He heard Rex growl above him. “Pathetic. You’ve come already. Your fucking pants are stiff with it. Have you been… leaking… this whole time?”
Rex didn’t think he was capable of speech in that moment, but the compulsion to answer his master overrode other thoughts. “Yes Sir, sorry Sir. I’ve been trying not to Sir, but…”
“But you’ve been overwhelmed.” “Yes Sir, the perfect word Sir.
“Because even the idea of me makes you cum. Being in the same room made you cum. Making eye contact made you cum. And being slapped in the face by my monster cock, well…”
“That made me cum a lot Sir.”
“I can see that. Stand up,” he commanded.
Rex scrambled to his feet, and audibly gulped when he saw Thad’s cock had grown. It was not hard, not yet, but he could see it creeping its way further down his leg, easing over the huge twin globes of his balls, and expanding, impossibly, in girth. His foreskin still covered his fist-sized cockhead, but Rex could see that its pink was beginning to slide wetly into the open.
“Take those fucking pants off and bin them.”
Rex did as he was told, it not even occurring to him that he would need to get home pantsless. His mind did not extend beyond the happenings of this room.
He stood, then in his tighty-whities, his underwear both stiff and wet from cum. “Take those off, let me see you.”
Rex again did as he was told, dropped the underwear and stepped gingerly out of them. He threw them in the bin with his pants.
“Is that your… penis?”
“Yes Sir, I’m sorry that it’s so small.”
“I have a cock, Rex, what do you have?”
Before answering, Rex had the presence of mind to wonder how he knew his name. “Nothing Sir. I have nothing. A finger, Sir.”
“That is what it looks like, Rex. A little finger. Here,” he said, lowering his massive bulk loudly to his knees so that his now rapidly growing cock, still soft, hung towards the floor. His ballsack almost touched it too. It was about the size of the backpack Rex had once used in college. Rex imagined that he could hear the slosh of what it held, what must have been litres of cum.
“Put your little finger next to this, let’s see how it compares.”
Rex, impossibly, felt more cum pooling in his balls, as if his body was gathering all the energy it had just to keep him aroused. “Yes Sir, thank you Sir!” He couldn’t believe he would be allowed to touch him.
He took the small step to approach the giant, whose gargantuan cock was just now raising slowly, and hardening, until it jutted spear-like from his body: bloatedly thick, crossed with pumping, pulsing veins, and longer than Rex’s arm from shoulder to hand. It was almost entirely inhuman. Rex couldn’t comprehend its size, could barely ingest the data of its existence, but he dutifully places his own … finger … next to it. It wasn’t even as long as Thad’s cockhead, nowhere even near it, in fact. But Rex felt a deep, deep libidinous satisfaction as he saw pearls of pre-cum emerge from Thad’s cock as he pressed himself against his immensity.
“Don’t waste that, “he heard the giant command. “That’s your lube.”
Rex, hand shaking, reached forward, lovingly spreading Thad’s cum on a finger that he then reached behind himself with and slipped eagerly into his asshole. Immediately, he felt Thad’s cum burning him, not with heat, but with… with something indescribable. Lust, masculinity, testosterone. He felt himself puff up on it, as if he had just emerged from a gym session himself.
The giant was now standing at full mast. Thad’s cock was jutting forward hungrily, bobbing in anticipation, the network of veins that sustained its incredible hardness and size throbbing in
lust. Rex, now hyperalert, as if the cum he had just pushed into his ass was drug, was hypnotised by Thad’s size, almost forgetting the giant attached to the cock.
All of a sudden, he found himself looking directly into the giant’s eyes: Thad had placed a hand on either side of his waist, and scooped him up in one fluid motion, his large fingers pressing into Rex’s soft skin.
“Have you heard the story of the lion and the mouse?” Thad said.
Rex was about to say that he hadn’t, until a memory suddenly returned. An old story about a tiny mouse being the only one brave enough to remove a splinter from a lion’s paw.
“Yes Sir.”
“Well, I’m the Lion, and you’re the mouse. That means you’re going to have to help me with something before you get what you want.”
Rex, still being held aloft by Thad, was almost vibrating in excitement. “Yes Sir, anything Sir.”
“You see, I have this pain,” Thad said. “A pain that’s built up in my chest, here, where my pecs press against each other.”
Still holding Rex, Thad pressed his pecs together, crushing Rex slightly in his grip as he did so. Rex started at the canyon between his pecs. Thad raised himself on his toes, then slammed down to the ground, causing his pecs to flex and bulge, to bounce, to press into each other so much that the muscles looked like they would burst.
“I have this pain,” Thad said, “Right between my pecs. Unfortunately, I only keep the company of real men. Big men. Big men with big hands, hands thickened in the gym, and hard with callouses. And none of these men have been able to help.
Rex, eyes wide, realised what was happening. Thad was allowing him to fulfil his ultimate fetish.
“And that’s why I need a manlet like you, with tiny, soft, feminine hands, to massage between them. To work out some kinks. You’re going to do this for me, Rex.”
“Of course, Sir. I’m sure you’ll grow even bigger with that knot worked out.”
Thad lowered Rex suddenly, sitting him on the massage table. He bent, briefly, pressing a button that raised the table. In slow motion, the seated Rex was gradually raised until his head was level with the giant’s heaving chest. Completely enraptured by them, Rex barely felt the giant taking his tiny hands into his bear claws, and working massage oil into them.
“Begin,” Thad said.
Rex didn’t need to be told twice, and eagerly pressed his hands into the hairy valley between Thad’s pecs. Or, at least, he tried to. The muscle on both sides was so deep, so thick, that it took real effort to get his hands between them. When he eventually did, the smell that was released was… essence. Pure essence of man, Rex thought: sweat, heat, testosterone. Rex almost passed out, could feel every cell in his body humming in pleasure.
Suddenly, Thad’s hand was at the back of his head, shoving him roughly, pressing him into that cave. Rex didn’t waste any time, breathing deeply through his nose, greedily huffing the big man’s aroma. He was released after a few moments, and he dutifully went back to work, pushing his slim fingers into that space, coating the dense hair with the massage oil, and doing his best to press hard into the muscle. Every few minutes he would feel that pressure on his head again, and be shoved into Thad’s pectoral wilderness, and drowned in that intoxicating smell.
As he worked, he occasionally heard the giant give a brief rumble of satisfaction. As he did, Rex would look down, in lust-filled fear, at that cock, each time being dumbstruck at its size. It was still hard, pulsing, and straining, like everything else on the big man’s body, to be bigger.
At first Rex thought that Thad had invented a reason to let him live out his fantasy, but as he massaged his mounds of muscle he could actually feel the knots release, and could hear Thad’s pleasure. After close to 20 minutes of this, Thad took a step back, and studied him.
“It’s working. You’re … doing good. But, god, you are small aren’t you…” “Yes Sir. Just 170cm Sir.”
“Hmm. You’re barely the size of my arm,” he said, unsubtly flexing an arm into hugeness. “Let’s see something,” he continued.
Thad approached the massage table again, and lowered his arm to be parallel with it, as if he was arm wrestling someone on the other side.
“Climb on,” he said.
Rex couldn’t quite process what he meant, but his body seemed to have understood, because he found himself sitting on the peak of the bodybuilder’s bicep. He gulped, in full knowledge that wouldn’t be able to contain himself much longer. Then, Thad flexed, and Rex felt himself rise, and the thick dome of muscle underneath pressed him into the air. He could feel that strength not only underneath him, but against him: his balls, his hole, and his lust- swollen prostate. He whimpered, and the giant relaxed his arm, then flexed again, continuing this until Rex had to hold on to the thick mat of forearm while the giant bounced him up and down.
“Sir,” he gasped, “Sir, I’m sorry Sir. But I’m going to -” “Stop,” Thad said.
And Rex did. The cum that had been about to jet from his small dick just stopped. As if compelled by the words of this giant, this god, Rex pulled himself back from the brink of orgasm. The sudden U-turn, however, was unnatural. He felt his vision go dark, and he heard himself gasping for breath. But then he felt himself dislodged from Thad’s arm, and the cool of the massage table underneath him. Then, Thad’s hand was on his head, tilting it upwards, and sight and breath returned.
The large man was almost, almost, smiling. “You have one last job,” he said, “before I allow you to do that.”
Rex hadn’t recovered enough for speech, but he nodded madly.
“I think I need the help of your… little finger… to work out one last knot.”
Once again, Rex felt himself suddenly lifted into the air, and then, magnificently, pressed into Thad’s body. Rex looked down, and realised what he meant. He gulped audibly, and he felt the big man’s chuckle vibrate underneath him.
He was going to let him fuck his pecs. He looked back up, to Thad’s chiselled features, in a complete state of shock.
“Before we go further,” Thad added, “if you go through with this, do know that you will pay, for the rest of your life. You will be mine. You will not get fucked by other men. You will not message other men. If I allow you to touch me, even only in this way, then I am your last. Do you understand?”
Rex nodded slowly, but, noticing the beginnings of disapproval, added “Yes Sir! Of course, Sir.”
“And,” Thad added, “you do not get to cum, not in there, not on me. Your weak… water… does not get on my body.”
“Yes Sir, I understand Sir,” Rex responded. Moments ago, he would have said that it would be impossible to stop that from happening, not if he was allowed… there. Now he knew the power of command, he knew what Thad could do to him, for him, with just a word.
“And that,” Thad said, “Is an order.”
With that, the giant pressed him tightly to his chest, manipulating his body so that Rex’s dick was pressing into his pecs, sliding, with some difficulty, into the oily, hairy valley. Rex had to grit his teeth to stop himself from immediately cumming, even with the strength of the bodybuilder’s compulsion keeping him in line. Thad’s pecs were so thickly muscular that they squeezed and gripped his penis tightly: a bigger man wouldn’t have fit into that space. Even without movement, the clamping wetness of that space, the feeling of Thad’s coiled chest hair, and the knowledge of the skin and sweat he was being allowed to touch, pushed Rex into pure nirvana.
Then Thad began, slowly, to raise Rex up and down, push him deeper into his chest, which he flexed around his small dick. Rex’s eyes had rolled into his head, and he was, now, almost catatonic: just a sex toy for his master. From beneath, he could feel the impossible hugeness of Thad’s cock, pressing, for a moment, wetly against his ass, leaving a stain of pre-cum as it did.
Thad continued, slowly, massaging Rex’s cock into that overly-muscled cavity, occasionally allowing himself a miniscule thrust so that Rex could feel his cock slap his ass, and press against a hole that gaped in lust for the beast beneath it.
A few minutes passed like this, and Rex could feel his face growing increasingly red, in fact, his body itself getting hotter and hotter, like he was burning. He could hear himself panting from the heat as much from lust, and, competing with the fully body arousal which Thad had allowed him, he could feel, at moments, a growing pain. A desperate need for release was growing rapidly, and his refusal to allow it to happen, to break his promise, was turning him into a pressure cooker. More and more frequently he could feel the wet hugeness of Thad’s cockhead teasing his asshole, the pressure of it, as if he could ever have fit himself into Rex’s tiny body. And every time the heat grew, and grew, until he could barely feel his body, had even stopped feeling the giant into whom he had been pressed so tightly.
He felt it coming, then, the dam beginning to blow, but just as it came on, he opened his eyes to find that he was on the floor, in tribute pose, Thad’s massive feet splayed in front of him. And then, safe, Rex exploded, his dick launching such a violent, heavy jet of cum that he almost felt himself moved backward by the spray. Orgasms wracked his body as more and more streams sprayed on the floor between the giant’s feet. Rex tried to raise his head to take in more of Thad as he came, but the pressure of his orgasms forced him closer and closer to the floor. By the time they had subsided, he was completely prostrate, lying in his cum, his body shaking with exertion.
From this position, he heard the sound: flesh on flesh, the moving of skin. Thad had begun to jerk his monstrous cock. The sound was getting faster and rougher, and Rex realised he was building towards an orgasm.
Rex struggled to raise himself, succeeding in only getting onto his forearms and craning his neck. The bodybuilder had both massive hands running the length of his cock, moving up and down its immense shaft with controlled slowness, his biceps bulging as he did so. He was glowing with sweat, making him seem even bigger in the warm, low lighting of the massage room. From this angle, he didn’t even look human, like a visitor from another dimension: thickly hairy, muscle stacked on muscle, the immensity of his manhood, all blown out of proportion by Rex’s view from the floor.
One huge hand was raised to a nipple, and grasped its thick plumpness, roughly tweaking it. The other hand had increased in tempo, was covering the full length of his cock with great speed.
Rex scrambled to get into an upright position, an animal insanity giving him the energy he needed to escape his near coma. But his hands slipped in his cum as he did so, and he only managed to get into a half upright position when the bodybuilder’s roar shattered the room,
and Rex was blown back into the floor by an explosion of thick, white cum. It was followed by another explosion, hitting him like a mortar shell, coating him in Thad’s seed. Jets of cum followed, and the big man’s roar was still felt through vibrations in the floor.
Rex collapsed in the warm liquid, felt his own dick feebly squeeze out a final, slow orgasm to mingle with the ocean of cum that Thad had drained from his heaving ballsack and drowned him in.
*****
Time, which had ceased to exist to Rex, must have passed. Though he had no memory of falling unconscious, when he opened his eyes he found himself to have been mostly cleaned up and lying on the massage table. Thad’s assistant was in the room, and was helping his boss get into his underwear. The bigger man’s cock was still half-hard, and draping half way down his leg. They were both laughing at the assistant’s effort to capture it in the posing pouch, which was so big that Rex probably could have camped in it. The smaller man was also naked, and was glowing, as if oiled up. Thad, Rex noticed, was too. He glistened. The assistant’s heavy ass bounced as he struggled, and Rex thought he saw his asshole, briefly, wet and splayed.
Rex, without thinking, slipped himself off the still-high massage table, but when his feet hit the floor, they didn’t quite catch him, and he found himself collapsed in a small heap. “Easy,” he heard, before feeling large hands pick him up and put him back on the table. The
assistant’s. “You won’t be able to walk for a few …,” the assistant looked his puny body up and down, “hours… And you might want to -”
Thad made a noise, summoning the assistant to his side. He pointed at his cockhead, and the assistant gasped, throwing himself to the floor.
A single drop of cum had been about to fall from Thad’s softening manhood, before the assistant grabbed his shaft in both hands, hands that didn’t quite encircle it, and placed his lips reverentially to its tip, milking it into his mouth and licking up the last few drops of cum like a dog. Rex found himself sinking back to a prone position, but thought he saw the smaller men swell as he did. Just slightly, before darkness took him and he fell back to sleep.
When he woke, the room was dark. He bolted upright, and a motion sensor turned the light on. The two men were gone. Rex eased himself to the floor, sighed relief when his feet held him. He had no idea how long he had been asleep for, but he felt recovered from his ordeal, powerful even. He drummed his toes on the floor, and stretched, luxuriating, for the first time, in his slight body, and feeling a deep thrum of satisfaction. Feelings that only partially dissipated when he realised that his clothes were not only destroyed, but also missing.
He heard his phone vibrate with a notification, and surprised himself by not rushing over to it. Not yet, he decided. He was in no rush.