NEW: The Garage Part 3

[JP71]

[COLOR=gray]The Garage: Part 3[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart Green had never believed much in a God. Well, not until Tuesday evening, when, as soon as he got home to his modest bachelor pad, rather than collapse into a heap on his unmade bed, he made a beeline for his VCR. Both of his hands shook due to nervous excitement, and he dropped the cassette more than once as he tried to load it into the machine. A terrible voice, one of a self-made “inner deviant” harangued him inside his mind:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Get thinner, lad.... thinner....yessssss! The thinner you become, the larger Damien will look when flexing his many huge muscles before you.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart tried to ignore the voice, the one he’d had since adolescence shortly after Damien’s family moved away because of his father’s new job. It was the inner demon that possessed Stuart, arresting him of his ability to eat and grow strong like any other maturing teen. That had been the beginning of his eating disorder, the one he liked to think he was the master of and not the other way around.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Fuck off... I’m just trying to put in a fucking videotape.... leave me alone, you meddling cunt!” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The voice retreated into a subliminal lair of his consciousness to quietly fester.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Please have sound.... please have sound!” Stuart nervously played around with the controls of the VCR, his heart beating twice as fast as normal. The rewinding of the tape to the beginning took an eternity. Eventually it stopped. He held his breath as he pressed “PLAY”.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The tape began to give up its secrets. Stuart could hear noise... mostly stuff in the background and from the street outside: cars going by, a dog barking. [/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]Yes! There definitely was [/COLOR][COLOR=gray]a God after all.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]Okay, so it wasn’t the greatest audio ever and he had to turn the sound up quite high on his television set. But it was worth it. Better still, although the picture on the monitor back in the garage’s office had been in black and white, the camera itself had recorded in colour. Damien stepped into the frame after a couple of minutes of tape rolling. He was huge... utterly magnificent, although he was silent except for the sound of slightly laboured breathing. Well, it was one of the hottest days on record. Even now that it was evening time, Stuart’s flat was still hot and muggy. But he spared it no thought, his mind totally rapt on the recording in front of him. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien’s gaze was fixed intently on the camera, his mouth smirking and grinning, as he commanded his incredible physique to expand and swell to even more humongous proportions. Stuart clumsily shrugged out of his clothes and made himself totally naked in front of the set, his cock springing erect to the sound of those glorious overall studs snapping apart as Damien applied meagre strain to an expanding ribcage smothered in massive wads of super-striated, rock-hard, masculine muscle: dud-dud-dud-dud-dud-dud![/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart moaned in bliss, fondling the tip of his dick so that precum began to bead there. He liked the sticky sensation, more so when he brought a coated finger to his lips so that he could smear on and taste some of the precursor to his absolute essence. Damien seemed to stand inanimate in the frame of the television screen, holding the most impressive of all muscular poses: the full spread of gorgeously swollen lats, which, along with the expansion of the ribcage and the augmentation of his pumping pecs, lent him the guise of some great, mythical beast rising out of the ashes of its own re-birth, a birth beyond what mortality could ever define... something akin to godliness... huge, strong, burgeoning upward and onwards towards absolute monstrous muscle-growth.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The overalls – parting like some yielding thing in swift surrender – added to the illusion of might. No... It wasn’t an illusion. Damien Bushel was real... a man-mountain, a glorious goliath with muscles that swelled almost to the point of surrealism. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]My once best friend... and now...?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]It seemed like Damien was growing before Stuart’s disbelieving eyes. No... it wasn’t that he didn’t believe, or couldn’t accept that what he was seeing was real. He could accept this... the embodiment of obsession, something he hoped would never end, that Damien wouldn’t ever leave him again, which would ultimately make Stuart waste away to nothing. He was sure of it.[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]Damien’s eyes continued to bore into Stuart. Even now, though he was just a recording, it was as if he knew that Stuart was eavesdropping on him once again. But how was that possible? Stuart’s imagination continued to paint Damien with many new and interesting shades, all of which served to enhance his beauty and magnificence all the more. And with each new shade applied, so Stuart stroked his dick more and more zealously, working up to a frothing lather soon to overwhelm him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Blast those huge fucking guns for me.... get me hotter, wetter, you HUGE FUCKER!!!!” Stuart’s fervour intensified, his rhythms kicking up by notches at a time, and his eyes meeting and matching the gaze of the muscle-god on the screen.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien complied, and he would continue to comply, for as long as the tape held the recording. Stuart would watch it again and again and again. Eventually the tape would be ruined, worn out. And what then? This was just the beginning. Stuart resolved to record Damien indefinitely, for as long as he could without giving the game up. This would be his closely guarded secret. How would the giant of muscle react if he knew that his boss was secretly filming him?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He already knowsssss... Stuart’s inner deviant again, he was posing on the camera for you![/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So....he enjoyed this little show for weak and feeble little Stuart then?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]But of courssssse.... he did this for you.... cos he’s is your massster. Not the other way around. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart continued to beat off like never before, his skinny frame taut and sweating profusely as he stood in front of the television set. He wanted to time his climax to the point where Damien lashed out with a huge double biceps pose. The mighty guns thickened even further, Damien’s unwavering gaze, his devilish cocky smirk adding sauce to an already irresistible dish, as he brought his forearms up vertically on either side of his head, hands bunched into fists, milk-white knuckles pointing down.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]His expression said only one thing: Look at me... look at how incredible I am. Cum over my muscles... cum forever to my magnificence. Beat off to my muscles and never stop. You won’t stop cumming, cos I won’t stop growing. You think THIS is huge? You haven’t seen HUGE yet. But you will. When I get even HUGER than I am now, you’ll be showering in cum for the rest of your skinny little life.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Aw good fucking shit!!!!! UNNNNNGH!!!!!!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The sound of threads snapping in the sleeves of Damien’s overalls seemed to sound in every corner of the room simultaneously. The fabric couldn’t hold up to the force of that much superhuman pressure pushing the fibres apart with utmost ferocity. Muscle mounds peaked higher and higher. Stuart could easily make out the secondary ball of muscle that added further height to Damien’s already near-ridiculous bicep circumferences. The words: “bigger than my fucking chest” suddenly came to Stuart’s mind.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Three neat streams of semen erupted in swift succession from Stuart’s shuddering self and glanced off the television screen, only to slowly slide downwards. At that point the recorded image of Damien Bushel – the hugest bodybuilder in all of creation – licked his lips as if to taste of Stuart’s nectar, but how could that be? A languid thread of jism seemed to hang interminably from Damien’s videotaped lips.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart would masturbate a further two times to the video footage of his incredible employee before finally collapsing onto the couch where he would snatch a little sleep, hardly the most restful of slumbers.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]***[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He was already erect again by the time he awakened. It was dark in the flat, the television having gone into stand-by mode, so that the only light in the room came from the little red LED light in the bottom left-hand corner of the set. The videotape had self-ejected so that the light from the VCR’s display panel was obscured by the jutting of the cassette casing. Stuart watched the little red light for many long minutes before finally hauling himself into a sitting position. The room seemed cooler. He got up and went to a window to enjoy the slight breeze that came in through it. The one-day heat wave was passing.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Damn, if it’s cooler tomorrow, then Damien will be in those fucking overalls again.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Ah, but the overalls had changed, albeit slightly, following the events of that previous workday. Stuart couldn’t think about anything else as he shuffled into the small partitioned kitchen-portion of his living quarters and checked the fridge for something to pass his lips. There was a single can of Coke next to a pot of cottage cheese. He sniffed at the cheese and managed to down a few spoonfuls. It had pineapple in it so there was a bit of sweetness to it. The Coke was refreshing. That was dinner over with, thankfully. He thought about weighing himself in the bathroom on that crap little scales that had been here when he moved in.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Fuck it... 68 kg. I would know if I’d lost weight.” He thought about some of the events of that Tuesday, following his discovery of the garage’s interior surveillance equipment. Work-wise it would be a slow day for Damien, for the people from Ardmore Studios were running behind schedule, and so Stuart had to reschedule the Jaguar XJC coming in for the following day. But the Mini Cooper could always do with a tinkering and there were numerous tidying jobs to be done, plus a little inventorying. Plenty to do yet. For the rest of the day Damien stayed out of shot of the camera mounted just inside the main entrance, but they still had to have lunch together and the odd bit of banter about cars and times they shared when they were kids, once Stuart was done with his phone calling.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien’s flexing had caused splits to appear in the upper part of each sleeve, through which massive football-sized biceps, each one thickly striated and finished off with a haphazard laying of fat, ropy veins, showed through whenever he tensed his arms even the by the slightest degree of movement. He muscles were hyper-huge and therefore hyper-pumped. What was the point in him bodybuilding further when the simplest and slightest of labours seemed to cause his muscles to react and expand in awesome patterns of hyper-masculine size and strength?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He body-builds to get bigger.... and bigger... and bigger!” Simply put, Stuart. Damien didn’t need to get bigger, for he could simply maintain his current size and be the strongest muscle-hunk on the planet. But the fact that he’d popped the sleeves on his overalls in an amazing display of muscle-posing/growth earlier meant one thing and one thing only. He was getting bigger. He was getting bigger because he wanted to. He was getting bigger because he knew he could. His intention to grow and his lust for bigger and bigger muscles could be read in the simplest but cockiest of smirks.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He caught me looking at his exposed biceps today,” said Stuart to no one but himself as he sipped idly on his Coke whilst standing at the window to avail of the breeze. Outside the street was near-deserted, save for a teenage girl out walking by herself, her pretty face all aglow from the light from her mobile phone as she walked and texted without a care in the world. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Imagine how tiny she would look were Damien to step out in front of her.” He mentally projected an image of Damien in his parting overalls next to the girl and he immediately grew hard again. He thought about his biceps again, vying for his attention through the portals made of the ruined navy sleeves.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He tensed them for me when he caught me looking.” Stuart fingered his cock some more. Through the sheer net curtains his body must have appeared ghostly, wraith-like. He admitted often that he was far too pale. He didn’t get enough vitamins in his system... that was his problem. He felt a tingle just below his bottom lip. Another cold sore would be up before the night was spent. He had Zovirax cream somewhere in the flat. Damn, what would Damien – massively muscular Damien with the face of a super-supermodel – think of weedy little Stuart with his great weeping cold sore in the morning? [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart wished that he owned a football, so that he could wrap a tape measure around its circumference and thus gauge the width in inches of Damien’s mammoth biceps.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He knew I was watching him at his flat this morning. Maybe had I been thinner, I would have been better obscured by the tree.” A ridiculous notion. Stuart could stand to gain a healthy ten kilos, not lose another single one.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That bloke Sebastian, the bodybuilder with the clamped van, had come from Damien’s flat, leaving it in a state. He got into his van and I must have dropped the stun gun as I rushed to cover again. Damien saw it all from the balcony, and when I left he came down, probably wearing very little, and picked up the pen with the intention of returning it to me later.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart played around with the scenario. There was something surreptitious about how Damien operated. He completely played down the fact he was the biggest bodybuilder in history, having had ample opportunity to show off to an eagerly enthusiastic Stuart. Instead he did so through closed circuit television, not face-to-face. But he still liked to tease, tensing his biceps through ripped sleeves whenever he felt he had Stuart’s full attention. Then there was the matter of his lunch that he’d brought with him in his holdall. In the cramped confines of the garage’s small canteen, Stuart nibbled on a Peperami stick and a bottle of orange juice (breakfast and lunch combined), his lean-to-skinny body easily accommodated at the tiny fast-food booth-style chair/table assembly. Damien was content to stand, leaning against the cabinet and sink (incredible that the wood and steel was able to withstand all that weight).[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Little words passed between them at this point, although Stuart wrestled with so many questions he wanted to ask Damien about his bodybuilding, however he just wasn’t bold enough to ask. Surely he could remark on the sheer size of Damien’s lunch and use that as an ice-breaker, something that would inevitably broach upon the fact that Damien’s muscles were so goddam fucking massive beyond reason. It was actually Damien that opened up a dialogue after washing down a dozen chicken fillets followed by the same again in rice-cakes with something fish-like between them, with a four-litre drum of that strawberry protein shake he liked so much:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Peperami... never tried it. Can smell it from over here, though. What’s in it?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart couldn’t believe his ears. Finally a chance to talk about food, but swiftly turn all attention to how much Damien was eating (and why) as opposed to how little Stuart was used to sustaining his meagre self with.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Dried salami... spices... chemicals. The usual shit. It’s enough ‘til I eat later at home,” Stuart lied. His face beamed with enthusiasm as he prepared to comment on Damien’s lunch, even though his stomach began to tie itself in knots in time to his balls and dick waking up from a nap. Okay lad, go for it. You may never get another chance: “Er... what’s with the milkshake? You had one yuh-yesterday, too.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“It’s strawberries and all the goodness of nature to get me through the day,” Damien said simply, before downing the drum to the last dreg.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]That was it? That’s all he was saying on the matter? What about the creatine and protein and other shit in it that fuelled bodybuilders to get huge... huge... and even HUGER, in Damien’s case? Damn, Stuart, don’t let him escape now.... talk about this... think of something.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Er... is it like suh-some kind of... suh-suh-supplement?” Damn, he could kick himself for stumbling on the word, allowing his nervousness (not to mention his sheer unstoppable arousal) to come to the surface. He’d wanted to say ‘bodybuilding supplement’ but the word “bodybuilding” just wouldn’t come out. That word... “BODYBUILDING”, the sound of it alone, even the thought of the word, was enough to get him hard in his pants.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Yeah, something like that. I drink it ‘cos it’s tasty and good for me,” said Damien, reaching for that day’s morning paper. He immediately went to the sports pages.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Sport... SPORT!!!! Bodybuilding was regarded by many institutions as a sport. Stuart had to try it out: “Follow the football, do you? You don’t strike me as a footie kind of guy. I never had interest in it, myself,” he said, careful not to stutter a single syllable.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Well you never were the physical type back in school, remember?” Damien idly glanced through the pages of the paper. He didn’t turn to the page-three girl as Stuart expected any straight male to do so before making some lewd comment about the size of her tits.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Suh-so...,” dammit Stuart, don’t stammer now.... keep it together, “... er... what sport are you into... er... with an appetite so luh-large?” Shit, fucking stammering. I’m so pathetic.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Luh-large? Ha... you sound like you’ve got a stutter there, Stu.” Damien chuckled and then put down the paper. He was too big for the canteen. There was little room to move and it was too hot. But Stuart liked these conditions. He could smell Damien... smell the musk coming off his amazing muscles. The room stank of gyms. It was glorious. Stuart was fully erect, now, but his baggy clothes hid it adequately.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Ah, I don’t really play sports, not... as such,” said Damien. Was he beginning to broach the subject, as the “not... as such” at the end of his answer seemed to suggest? He jerked his head from side to side to work a crick out of his neck. The sound of bones shifting came through loudly and clearly. The slight movement of his neck caused tendons to shorten, which in turn jerked on his pectorals, causing them to jump beneath his overalls. Now the fourth stud down sprang open with a “dud” sound. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]More of his chest was now exposed, more deep, dark defined cleavage between two hulking slabs of rock-hard muscle-beef, shining beneath their lotion-coat. Stuart almost swallowed his knuckles in response to seeing that. Damien’s attention was immediately drawn to the extra bit of exposure given to his chest. A half-smirk appeared on his face... his beautiful mega-manly face. Stuart wondered if he would do up the fourth stud or leave it the way it was... open... more chest exposed to tease weedy wraith-like Stuart with.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien fastened not one stud but TWO! Stuart’s heart sank. Then the bodybuilder fumbled in his overall pockets beneath his thick weight-belt, with its adornment of tools, and pulled out his bottle of lotion. But he didn’t stop there. He went searching for something else, no doubt the stun gun. But it wasn’t there. A somewhat puzzled look overcame him but he quickly dismissed it. Stuart was getting nowhere with Damien. He decided to ask about the lotion:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Isn’t that a girl’s lotion? Rob it on the missus, eh?” This came from a slightly bolder Stuart, with a smattering of joviality thrown in to help keep his nerves from shredding. Now he broached on the subject of Damien’s marital status. Okay, so the forms he’d filled in had him down as single, but he had mentioned to Stuart that he was paying child support. So then, did he have a live-in girlfriend, or someone else to lotion up the parts of him his massive self couldn’t reach?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Don’t have a missus, Stu. Relationships and me don’t mix, if you must know,” said Damien, his face blank although there was seriousness to his tone.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]This got Stuart thinking about an American talk-show he’d seen once, Maury, he thought it was, and the subject of discussion had been about bodybuilders and how they make lousy partners because of all the time they spend in the gym rather than with their partners and/or families. Stuart had watched it mostly just to masturbate to the muscle-guys on it (three in total but no one he knew from the muscle-mags). Maybe this was the reason why Damien wasn’t relationship material. It was obvious. He was the biggest, strongest and most muscular man on the planet. It took time to maintain that.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He’s not maintaining, Stu... he’s getting BIGGER, Stuart quickly reminded himself.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject after what you mentioned earlier... about the child support.” Shit! Now I’ve gone and done it. He’ll get mad.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“It’s okay,” said Damien in a low tone, gazing downward so that his chin pressed into the top of his pecs. Stuart’s heart skipped a beat when he counted three steady pec-bounces beneath the strained open-neck collar of the overalls. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“She got what was coming to her. I pay my dues to little Gavin and leave it at that. Got other things in life to worry about. Gavin wants for nothing. And he idolises his stepdad.” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]At that point an awkward silence befell the canteen. Damien decided to take a piss. Stuart watched in awe as the giant six-foot six-inch bodybuilder tried his best to get into the tiny toilet cubicle. He’d just about managed it the day before, but...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He’s grown since then... he’ll never be able to do it without taking out the fucking wall.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien played down the awkwardness of the situation and did something that made Stuart almost cum there and then. He stood just outside of the doorway and un-popped three of the lower studs of the overalls and commenced to piss into the bowl from a distance. The viewing angle wasn’t in Stuart’s favour from where he was seated. It was mostly Damien’s back obscuring everything else, and it would be very gay of him to suddenly leap out of his seat in order to cop a better view of the bodybuilder’s cock on display. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The sound of his urination was loud, the flow long and gradual. Stuart timed it to just over a minute. Then when the flow petered out, so the obligatory shaking of the rod followed. There was a series of loud ‘thuds’ that could only have been a massive, thick, heavy muscle-cock colliding with the doorframe. To make a sound like that the cock must have been very, very large indeed.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sorry about that, Stu. But you’ve got to admit, you do have a very small toilet and shower facility in here,” said Damien, going back to his holdall. He put the bottle of lotion inside and then zipped the bag shut. Stuart’s heart sank once again. He’d hoped there might have been even the slimmest, tiniest chance that Damien would hulk out of the already damaged overalls and ask his boss to lotion him up. Wishful thinking times a thousand, alas.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Er... I’ll luh-look into getting it enlarged. It’s only correct that you should be able to avail of the proper facilities. But...” Stuart paused to chew on his bottom lip and decided to take a bold leap in the way of polite conversation. He couldn’t keep it in any more. After several attempts to get Damien to talk about his bodybuilding, this, it seemed, was the last chance Stuart would get to bring it up. A little dramatic pause forced an inquiry from Damien:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“But what?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart – his raging hardon desperate to be free of his shorts – dry-swallowed in a suddenly cotton-textured mouth. Dammit, he had Damien’s full attention now. Might as well come out and say it:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“... you fitted in okay... yuh-yesterday. What’s different about today?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien said nothing, but was saved by the ringing of the office phone. Stuart made a bolt for the office. It might have been Terrance Nugent who owed him three grand since early April. Three grand was three grand. Suddenly Stuart had other matters on his mind, and he wasn’t even concerned whether or not Damien had seen his hardon.[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]His thoughts returned from the day since passed, Stuart Green breathed in the last of the breeze that evening. He thought about testing the fountain pen stun gun on himself, simply morbid curiosity, nothing more. He wondered how many charges it would take to bring down a behemoth like Damien. He also wondered how dangerous it would be to try stunning himself due to his low bodyweight and zero fat percentage. The Jag would be in tomorrow, lot of work ahead. Damn that fucking rear seat not arriving until late Friday. Not to worry, Damien would have the Jag ready by the end of the Bank Holiday weekend. Stuart wondered if he should come in on Saturday to give him a hand.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“No... let him have his freedom. Besides, you’ll get him on camera. Ah, such sights awaiting you.” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Stuart managed a small smile before deciding to call it quits for the night. Before going to bed he went into the toilet to be sick. It was mostly dry-retching and a little Coke mixed with stomach acids and partially digested cottage cheese. Then he brushed his teeth to get the taste out of his mouth and went to bed. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]His final conscious thought of the day: what had Damien done to Sebastian and the other bodybuilder who raved about cancer in his muscles? Could they be related?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Damien the Muscle Leech. As if he had the power to steal the muscles from other bodybuilders in order to make his self bigger and more muscular. Twilight Zone shit, that. Stuart was too tired to think any further. And so he just masturbated again.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]And again.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]To be continued...[/COLOR]

[rabiyya]

I am thoroughly enjoying this story. Great job!