Interview with a Muscle God

[V.R.Goh]

So, you want to interview me. Alright, I'll satisfy your curiosity.

How did I get this big? I could give you some convoluted story about some scientific formula that changed my body, or some obscure artifact that made me this huge using some ancient magic. They'd both be bold-faced lies, though. The truth is I was always bigger and stronger than everyone around me. When I was five, I was already the size of an athletic ten-year-old and stronger than my father. When my parents saw their ten-year-old boy lifting the couch with one hand, they went out and bought a weight bench and about 500 pounds of weights. In a short time, I could bench press 300 pounds for reps like it was nothing. By my eleventh birthday, there wasn't a weight in the house that could challenge me. That's when I stared using Dad's car for bicep curls and bench presses. What really shocked him more than the fact that I was using his car to workout was the fact that it was so light, even with all of my weights in the trunk and back seat.

When puberty hit, my body went into overdrive. I grew three inches a week and doubled my bodyweight in a month. And it was pure muscle, baby. My strength went through the roof with no signs of stopping. I was eating 10,000 calories in a single day, while my workouts lasted two hours straight. Good thing my parents came from money. That way, they could afford the special weights I needed in order for me to get a real workout. Everyone in town called me either Hercules or the Muscle-Freak, for obvious reasons. I would post pics of myself on the Internet in a variety of poses. My site got 50 million hits on the first day, and the hits kept coming.

After a while, people stopped calling me the Muscle-Freak. It was always "Herc" or "Muscle God" when they addressed me. It's probably because, on my site, I call myself the God of Muscle. It fits. About halfway through puberty, people started asking me if they could worship me for a price. I naturally accepted. After all, what's a god without worshippers? At $50 a pop and two of them each night, my paid worship sessions earned me enough to buy a house. I get all kinds of clients, from girls looking to get fucked by a real man to closeted gay guys hiding their rainbow flag from their wives. In fact, one of my regular customers is a bisexual married couple who are turned on by my massive mega-muscles.

You're probably just dying to know how huge I am now that I'm 22. Well, here it is. Hold on to your cock, boy. As of this morning, I stand 7'3" tall and I tip the tractor trailer scales at 2500 pounds of rock-hard muscle. The first thing you notice about me is how inhumanly chiseled I am. Honestly, I look like an anatomy chart on steroids. I look like my body fat is zero, I'm so shredded. The second would definitely be my wide-as-a-barn-door shoulders. I have to turn sideways and squat just to fit into a room, I'm so wide. If that weren't wide enough, my back has been compared to the spread hood of a giant king cobra. I could probably glide on my wing-like lats if I weren't so massive.

Descending from my massive shoulders are a pair of the most ginormous cannons you have ever seen. These bad boys make a powerlifter's legs look like twigs. You can tell they're cannons when I flex these colossal cannonballs that mere mortals call biceps. I love to burst my way out of sleeves using only my biceps, which are peaked like Mount Everest and just as hard. You could use my triceps as a pillow if they weren't so fuckin' hard. With a shirt on, I look like I'm smuggling hams in my sleeves. These guns are so massive, I practically have to register them with the NRA.

If I had on a shirt, you'd think my chest consisted of a pair of boulders shaped to look like a man's pecs and smoothed down. I pride myself on all of my muscles, especially my powerful pecs. My favorite move is to bounce my pecs when it's obvious that I transfixed a person with all this beef. One customer even asked if he could pec-fuck me. He would take his stiff dick (which, for an average-sized man, was above average) and thrust it into my muscle cleavage. I even jerked him off just by flexing my pecs a couple of times.

Beneath my inhuman shelf sit a set of the strongest abdominal muscles you have ever seen. My eight-pack abs are so hard, girls have literally used my iron stomach as a washboard. I could have girls drooling with my adamantine abs alone. My mega-massive legs resemble the trunks of giant sequoia trees then human limbs. It takes four powerlifters to come even close to the power I have in my legs.

What women and gay men love the most is my bubble butt. This ass of mine is so strong, so huge, and so tight, that I can squeeze onto a man's dick and milk every sticky drop of cum out of his member. Women have salivated over my tight ass. To straight women and gay men, I am the very definition of muscle god. Look at you. All I had to do was describe myself and you already shot your load.

That's right, little man. Cum for your God of Muscle.

[iceman75]

I only have one complaint, it needs to be longer and more detailed, other than that schwing!

[FrenchMuscle]

I agree with iceman75!

[Lionor_King]

More!!! We need much much more this is to hot not to continue!

[caligula]

Very hot writing. There needs to be more detail on the personal muscle worship sessions. Were men or women allowed to just look and not touch his physique? Visual worship is a slow torture for people who love muscle and want to feel and lick the ripped flesh...and be denied the privilege.

[V.R.Goh]

I'm not surprised that you want to continue, since you're getting a free look at how awesome I am. Don't be embarrassed. Lots of guys feel inferior when compared to all this.

Let me tell you about some of my more memorable worship sessions.

At first, I would post webcam videos of me stripping and flexing on my site. That's when a lot of fans started offering me money for private shows. At first, it would be one or two shows a week. Mostly, they would be wealthy men and women who wanted to look at a real man. I'm guessing the women weren't getting any from their husbands and wanted to see a kid who could please them. As for the guys, most of them had wives and kids out of obligation. Considering the fact that they grew up in a time when being gay was comparable to being a drug addict, having a wife and kids while secretly harboring a sexual attraction to men was understandable. I guess I forgot to mention that I'm pretty intelligent. But, I didn't make a fortune off of my mind.

Anyway, I would show up at their place wearing a long coat that obscured my physique. Then, when my customer and I were alone, I would slowly strip. First, I'd slip the coat off and drop it to the floor, revealing how wide, how thick, and how big I was. Usually, I would dress for the weather: short sleeves in the summer, sweaters for the winter, you know. Then, I'd remove each article of clothing so achingly slow so they could fully appreciate my size and definition. After about twenty minutes of this, I would stand in front of the client and flex my mega-manly muscles. The customers always wanted to lick my muscles, to caress every curve and bump. I would always tell them, "Look but don't touch. There's plenty of time for more when I turn eighteen." They were always blown away when they figure out that I wasn't finished growing yet. It was those customers who became regulars.

Every customer asked for something different. One guy asked me to come in a short-sleeved polo shirt and khakis. He wanted me to hulk out of them while he watched. Fortunately, I found each garment in the size I wanted. Usually, I buy my clothes a size smaller so I look even bigger. For hulk-outs, however, I bought the outfit two sizes smaller. That way, I could hulk out of them easier. When I arrived at his home, he brought me to his set-up in the basement. I told him that he would need a drop cloth to make cleaning up after himself easier when he came. Once final preparations were set, I put on my show. First, I flexed my mountainous biceps, destroying the sleeves. An achingly slow lat spread devastated the back of the shirt. When I grabbed the collar of the shirt, he moaned as he whipped out his cock. I could tell that he was gonna love what I was gonna do next. As slow as I could manage, I tore the shirt down the middle, exposing my massive chest and ripped eight-pack abs. He sat motionless and slack-jawed, his erect cock blushing crimson with blood.

As I flexed my redwood thighs and diamond-hard calves, the khakis surrendered to my superior might. I grabbed the waist of the now ruined pants and, in one motion, ripped them away, exposing the Speedo beneath. He remained transfixed on my massive muscles. I made my pecs dance for him, which must have pushed him closer to the edge. He panted, screaming praises for his muscle god and wanting to cum in tribute. A single most-muscular sent him over the edge and he erupted without even touching his cock. See, you're not the first person to cum at me without touching themselves.

Once I turned eighteen, I offered new X-rated packages. That's when the average number of sessions went up from two per week to two per day. I was in constant demand, and not just from men. Customers of both genders wanted me to display my power for them in many different ways. One woman wanted me to tit-fuck her while she groped my muscles. Now, she had big tits. She told me her bra size was a 36D. While my eighteen-inch monster cock was sandwiched between her ample breasts, she'd grope my muscles, mostly my arms, chest, and abs. Then, she'd want me to really ream her out. I gladly obliged, but not without insisting on protection. Fortunately, she was on the pill and I always keep at least one condom in my wallet. Hey, I may have the looks of Adonis, the muscles of Hercules, and the cock of Priapus, but I always practice safe sex.

After two sessions with me, Sandra (that's her name) wanted to date me full-time. That's when we got to know each other. Apparently, Sandra is a defense attorney who specializes in civil rights cases. Her last case involved a coven of practicing Wiccans who were assaulted by a church group. To this, I responded, "God save us from half of the people who think they're doing God's will." I told her that I was studying to be a history teacher, and that the worship sessions were paying for my degree. When she commented on how much I was in touch with current events, I said, "When you go to college in this day and age, you can't help but be civic-minded." After all, where do you think a lot of this country's activists come from?

Sadly, Sandra is permanently off of my client list. However, she's one of the only two people who can get it for free. You're the other.

What's that? You say you want to taste the cock of a real man and drink my cum for your muscle god? Go right ahead. With a libido like mine, I'm rock-hard every minute.

Get one your knees and open your mouth as wide as you can. That's it. Take in as much as you can. Breathe through your nose so you don't suffocate. Woah, you're one talented cocksucker. Are you sure you've never done this before? Yeah, that's it. Suck this god's super-cock.

Uh, yeah, that's it, little man. Get it in there. Wow, not even Sandra's been able to deep-throat me. Well done. Yeah, get ready for the flood.

I forgot to tell you. My cum changes people when they drink it. I think there's some kind of mutagen in my balls that makes guys more manly. Their muscles, balls, and cock grow to incredible proportions. They've never been as big as me, but they become impressive in their own right. After that, -uh, fuck yeah!- they go into the same business of muscle worship. They call themselves the Demigods of Muscle, and you're about to join their ranks. Uh, uh, yeah. Get ready to taste my godjuice. Fuckin' muscle god! UH! UH! AAAAHHHHH!! FUCK YEAH!!!

[caligula]

You are sooo good. Making me fall on my knees to you and beg for the privilege of drinking your man juice. The sight of your fantastic physique drives me crazy.

I would hold back as much as possible..caressing every muscle on your body..gliding my tongue over the ripped and tanned skin. Denial is a strong elixir...wanting something so bad and not being able to get it...builds up my horny libido.

Tell me more...my muscle master. There are no limits to your imagination. I will do anything you want me to. The ultimate rapture is holding back as long as possible before the point of no return.