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Old May 1st, 2010, 03:30 PM
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Built That Way 10

Hey guys,

I've had some questions about previous chapters. They are here:


And now, the latest:


“Push!” Chad roared, his deep, husky voice booming and spitting into my left ear from his position behind and nearly over me.

“Mmmmrrraaapphhh!” I roared in return as Chad rose to a standing position. I glared up at him from the sticky gray weight bench, pushing harder than I’d ever pushed in my life, salty sweat streaming down my face, burning my eyes, soaking my thin white cotton T, making it cling to me like a second skin. I ground my teeth and willed my pecs to flex together, swelling, pushing… the rough metal bar, the whole fucking 425 pounds rising up off my chest for the twelfth straight rep of the fucking fourth set… my heavy horseshoe triceps kicking in at the halfway point, pushing the iron load up, up… toward the racking point… almost there…

“Again!” Chad roared, standing now, looming over me, upside down in my frame of vision as he stood over the bench and planted his heavy, meaty hands on the steely rod and pushed down, straight fucking down, goddamned hard, leveraging his thickly muscled 230 pounds and hard, contracting muscles down on the 425 pound bar bearing toward my chest. It stopped just short of my nipple line as Chad released.

“Mmmmrrraaapphhh!” I pushed back, as hard as humanly possible. My chest was heaving, flexing heavily, expanding to insane proportions with every breath. Every single one of my ten meaty fingers tightened around the gridded bar. It scraped against my blistered palms and I gritted my teeth, clenching them together, pushing upward, the bar rising in a straight line, propelled by the thick bulging muscles of my chest, shoulders, triceps… cuts growing deeper with effort… the veins in my neck pulsing in thick rhythm… Chad looming over me, his thickly shadowed face leering…

“Rack it,” he smiled with slight approval, taking the weight from my shuddering arms in a rough approximation of an upward row and setting it with relative ease on the rack, eliciting a heavy metal thud.

I laid there on the bench, gasping, looking up at his rough blonde visage, every muscle of my body twitching with effort… breathing deeply, deeply… feeding oxygen to my heavy, hungry muscles.

Chad leaned forward over me, the 180-degree visual turnaround unable to negate the fucking sexy leer forming across his whiskered jowl. “Let’s go again,” he grinned, sneering, and then cracked his neck and jiggled his pecs.

I looked upward, in reverse, noting how the incredibly thick meat of his chest tensed and rose and striated and cut and released heavily downward and then did the whole thing all over again. My tight 28-inch washboard waist tensed tucked ever further in, my abs and every fucking muscle down to my cock twitching in appreciation… the bulge in my thin grey cotton gym shorts growing visibly bigger, harder…

“But not here,” Chad added suddenly, reaching down, grabbing my right hand with a meaty hook and yanking me to a sitting position. Chad sat immediately behind me, his heavy pecs pressing hard against my thickly muscled back. He leaned in, dangerously close, his fucking powerful chest pressing ever harder against my thick, ripped back. He spat again into my left ear:

“On your back.”

His hands planted themselves against my back and shoved, every shred of power his 52-inch chest could produce thrusting against my body and pushing me forward, instantly, suddenly… my 219 pound body sliding off the sweat-streaked vinyl bench and thudding to the floor, bubble-butt first.

“Not there,” he said, watching me with steely eyes. “On the incline.”

I stood, rising to my full 5’11”.

Hard to believe I’d been training with Chad for just two weeks, yet had grown so much. We’d first encountered in the gym locker room, 50 feet away, where I was posing my ass off at 5’9 and 211… and now, under his guidance here I stood, two weeks later an unbelievably thick and jacked 5’11 and 219. Yeah, you read that fucking right. Eight pounds of solid beef – and two inches in height – in 21 days. The guy fucking knew what he was doing. Speaking of that:

“Stop!” He roared.

I stopped instantly, meeting his steely eyes reflected in the mirror in front of me, the heaving bulges of our two ripped physiques playing off each other in the reflection… me the pupil… him the master…

“Flex,” he commanded.

I knew what he wanted. We’d done it repeatedly over the last three weeks.

With iron concentration, I broke my eyes from his, met my reflection in the mirror, and growled… my heavily shadowed jaw grinding tight, my dark eyes flashing… sweat trickling down my entire body, from the thick dark hair of my head, across my flawless, growling face, tracing the bulging veins of my neck, trickling in small rivulets through the unheard-of striations of my traps and down between the thick ridges of my upper chest, pooling where the beads met the V-shaped neckline of my cotton T…

“Flex you fuck!” he roared. I did.

I met my eyes solidly in the mirror and I ground out the most fucking intense most muscular you can imagine, my fists clenching, my pecs contracting, my shoulders swelling, my abs crunching down to my heavy dick… veins bulging across my biceps and snaking down my pulsating forearms…

“Flex!” he bellowed again. I sucked in my breath and ground harder, willing every muscle in my body to swell with blood. My sweat-drenched T impossibly stretched… its thread-count clearly visible across as my fucking broad back and my swollen, striated shoulders and heavy, meaty traps rose ever higher and thicker… I grinned and sneered in the mirror, tightening the pose ever more, flexing tighter and harder and grinding back and forth with orgasmic energy… feeling my heavy cock rise and swell even as I pinned it between my thickly muscled thighs…


And there it went. Chad’s dark grin flashed in the mirror – as did mine – as we both realized what had happened. A seam in my left armpit had split, pushed past its limit by my heavily muscled chest and my bulging, heaving lats. I grinned, a dark, flashing grin, caught Chad’s eye… and flexed even harder.


My thin white cotton T shredded down the back. Each give of the fabric compulsed me to flex even harder… every ripping thread willing me to contract and tighten, my back becoming improbably wide and thick, my shoulders practically reshaping, each of the three heads visible through the skin-tight cotton until it ripped to oblivion, then bursting through into heavy bounders, striated, cut, frightening… my abs tightening ever more… my 51-inch chest bulging and swelling unbelievably huge as my crunching shoulders and arms deepened every cut and crevice and pushed the heavy muscle past the normal limits of belief…

The damp white cotton strips fell to the floor, and my gaze followed them… that is, until I saw my thighs… thick, heavy, swollen through my grey cotton gym shorts. My eyes traced upward again, catching my dick as it pressed powerfully against my crotch, its juicy outline clear through the fabric. I watched it throb, pulse… I imagined the pushing and grinding it could do, my left hand slowly moving toward it as it traced my cobbled skin…

Wait, wait…

I managed to look past it… down to the heavy, tanned teardrops of muscle that bulged from my inner thighs… and I looked even farther, past my brown knees and down to the thick, hard diamond swoops of my calves arching inward and outward… and my dick began to twitch. Harder than before. It was irresistable. It pulsed with every beat of my heart as I looked intently in the mirror at my fucking jacked and tanned and ripped 219 pounds.

My left hand tingled its way down the skin of my lower abdomen and found its goal. I closed my eyes with relief, adrenaline surging from my low abs and out through the heavy muscles of my body. Instantly, I reached my heavy right hand down to join its friend and cupped my thick meat in both paws. A shiver arched up my spine, lightning shooting through each thick cord of muscle. Dear God.

I began to tug.

“Nice,” Chad said approvingly from behind me, disjoining me from the moment. He’d moved close, standing, looming over me, his dark breath in my left year, his purposeful eyes taking in every muscular bulge of my thick, naked torso. I wondered, briefly, how I could get caught up in the sexuality of my own body when his superior musculature lurked right there heaving heavy, darkly, behind me.

I was about to find out.

Last edited by lkjhgfdsa; May 1st, 2010 at 10:09 PM.
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  #2   Add to Demandred's Reputation   Report Post  
Old May 2nd, 2010, 07:50 AM
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I'm really enjoying this story, from the writing style to the growth. Keep on writing!
"There are more ways than walkers, more dreams than dreamers, more love than lovers."

- Shamshad Khan
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