The Program
Part 6
The workout was intense. The gym facilities of the pure muscle people were extremely elegant. State of the art equipment from wall to wall, much of it occupied by extremely musclebound young athletes, all motivated and coordinated seemingly by an invisible string. Very little chatter went on as the young hunks went about their routine. The focus was clear: big gains!
Zeke and I did chest and arms, and it was all I could do but gawk as he lifted huge weights, probably 450 pounds on the bench. Whatever it was, it was astounding to me. He struggled some, though in general he did it all in smooth, clean motions, and I felt totally incompetent as a spot. I started with low weights, what I had worked up to with Sam, but found those a bit easy, and moved up 30 pounds on the bench and twenty on curls. Zeke was certainly right: I was making fast progress already. He helped me put the bar back in the rack, and I had funny sensations looking up at his huge torso from the bench,’a mix of lust and jealousy.Fortunately, my elongated pecker was encased in the workout shorts, and all that was visible was the thick polycarbonate tube.
In a free moment, I flexed in the mirror, impressed with the progress. I was noticing definition in my arms already. Additionally, I noticed that my nipples seemed slightly enlarged, perhaps from the day’s suction constantly performed on them, even then. I asked Zeke about this, and he said “Yeah, man, look at mine. They wasn’t nearly this big when I got in here.” He popped off the suction cup underneath his muscle shirt, and showed me his large and prominent, dark brown tit, which he started pinching and squeezing. “But, I noticed they actually been getting real sensitive over time on account-a that fuckin’ machine and the medicines and shit, so now I can bas’cally just get a orgasm in the shower just pinchin and flickin these things,” he said. “It wasn’t like that before, man. I kinda like that shit, and I bet the chicks would really dig it”. His tit was drooling slightly now. “Man I’m gettin’ hardon just thinkin’ about plowin’ some of them street chicks while they rub and tug on this—shit,” he gasped, visibly moved, “aw, fuckin’ shit. I love this shit, is’ fuckin’ like becomin’ a slave to bein’ a fuckin’ God,” he gasped out, grabbing a hold mf the workout bench. His shorts lit up, and I assumed he was experiencing what I would come to experience more and more frequently over the next year: an overwhelming orgasm in the weight room. “Ah, fuck”; he said, his tit visibly leaking. He opened and closed his legs, and then straddled the bench on his back, putting the cup back on his nipple, and running his arms through his short cropped hair. He looked damn powerful.
It was just as I was taking in this muscle God that I realized how gone I was to the process. I, too, at this point, lived for the evening stride into my chamber, and the feeling, after removing my sweaty gym garb and climbing naked into those silk sheets, of those powerful pistons, that coaxed load after load out of me as I slept, to be carted off the next morning by an overjoyed Todd, always ready to administer my medications, that would help me get ripped.
The workout routine became more intense, and after a few months, I had put on 10 pounds of muscle mass. My delts were nicely defined, my back took on more shape, my lats and quads were more pronounced, and I was developing a nice chest and thick arms. The strict diet regime ensured that I was every bit as cut as I was big.
Working out became routine as breathing, and I pushed myself to please Todd. Todd administered medications, checked my vitals, and encouraged me by assuring me I would make a “fine first string player”. Thus, I pictured in my mind this goal of excelling on the football field as I topped out my sets and strained my muscles to the brink.
After six months I looked like any guy on a fitness magazine cover. I had gained 25 pounds of pure muscle, and Todd encouraged me to go beyond my original goal. And, when I checked out my rounded, cut, thick, hulking body in the mirror, I was gripped by a desire to obey his suggestion.
Were the medications making me addicted to building muscle?
Somehow I didn’t care. As long as I continued to see impressive gains and I could outflank the pansies on the school team, nothing else mattered. If anything, feeling that first powerful cumshot coaxed out of me each night by the machine before I fell asleep served as vindication. “Let those poor skinny saps drink my sperm and tit milk to help them get strong”, I thought, not a little narcissistically.
If I was becoming narcissistic, then it was only on account of my worship of beauty, balance and obedience to pleasure. And, getting huge was that, I thought thinking back to the very first encounter with the billboard. It seemed the first occasion I felt the same feeling that coursed through my muscular body now each night as I unloaded into the machine.
Todd approached me one day during a workout and asked if I minded being featured on a series of billboards advertising Muscle Mass Gains to youngsters. I immediately assented, thinking it my duty to help other puny teenagers get to where I was, which I thought I could do by just making them feel awe at my huge muscles. Todd suggested, before I could do a shoot, I would need to spend a few days in the tanning bed, and also shave my body, which he offered to do.
I had left my harness on the bench of the locker room while getting shaved by Todd, who lavished my body with his acute touch. As he did different parts of my body, my cock sprang up, yet he never broke the veneer of professionalism. Looking at my hard, ripped body as he worked turned me on, and, as he shaved my pits, a slight—yet unapologetic—groan escaped my lips.
After he finished, I dashed back to the locker room to grab my harness and wash off the extra hair. What I hadn’t realized is that Zeke had found my harness while I was gone, and had fumbled with the settings. As I climbed under the shower and the hot water started streaming off my ripped chest, I felt the unmistakable sensation of arousal streaming up from my cock. My member became harder and harder, and I became lost in sexual heat. I let my wide shoulders droop to my knees, and moaned uncontrollably. It was at this moment that I felt Zeke’s hot breath on my freshly shaved anal cleft. I was too lost to object, as he spread my buns and began devouring my chummy rosebud. In fact, I backed into him, my arm leaning on the shower wall. He continued this task about five minutes, hot water streaming down both our muscular torsos. After five minutes, he stood up and lined his steel rod with my soft flesh. I’m still too lost to object, and what followed was a phenomenal session in which Zeke slowly opened my ass and then fucked me until he came. He came inside of me, grunting primordially. He leaned into me, still inside of my freshly shaved ass, and worked his hands up my abs, stopping to tweak and pinch my nipples, which had become much larger after six months of daily milking, and which were undoubtedly oozing some of their patent testosterone-laced cream as I was being molested from behind.
Zeke continued fondling my chest with one hand while he fumbled with the settings on my harness with the other. The nodes on my cock went into overdrive, and I felt a most intense pleasure as I began bucking up against Zeke’s newly hardening member. He returned this milking by grabbing my waist with both hands and proceeding to furiously fuck me. I looked at the mirror on the other side of the locker room, and saw my taut, muscular frame, leaning against the wall, my ass sticking out like a brick house, being fucked by this idol, who couldn’t have been a day over 21.It was an overwhelmingly erotic sight. I was soon lost in the ravages I was suffering, and, between Zeke’s grunting and my muffled shrieks as he hit my prostate, the sound of our hard bodies slapping together and of the water striking the ground between our feet was the only perceptible sound.
I recalled the incident that night as I emptied a load into the tube and the machine hummed awa, milking my nipples. My bed had been fitted with an extension that tanned my skin as my chest was milked and I shot off load after load into the machine as I slept sexilly. My last thought before I drifted off was of how hot my posters would be when they went up. The idea of my huge muscular body stretched out on those big posters made me quickly come again, and the machine hummed and beeped away, as it slurped up the proceeds…