The Source - Part 6

[Proteus]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

Part 6

My head was still reeling from the erotic experience when a man handed me a towel. I cleaned myself off and got dressed. I had to “go commando” in my slacks since Mo had torn my boxerbriefs apart. I was decent, but I was embarrassed that so many people had just watched me get off with someone. Mo, however, did not seem to care in the slightest. Still naked, he began giving me a tour of the facility.

“That’s quite a mess there,” I said, as we walked away from the puddle of cum on the floor.

“Someone will take care of that with a mop,” he said, “It’s not that uncommon of a thing around here.”

After showing me the weight lifting stations around the main room, he lead me back into the hallway, sauntering as his hirsute thighs rolled over each other. His massive penis and testicles hung proudly, pushed forward by the bulk of his legs. He led me to a Spartan office, with little more than a desk and some chairs under a single bare bulb. With only a single light source in the room, his body took on a new dimension, shadows running over all the curves, bumps, and contours of his muscles. He sat down slowly in a chair that groaned under his weight—he had to weigh four or five hundred pounds, after all!

Mo gestured with his meaty arms for me to sit down. I found the chair more than able to support my average weight.

“Do you know why I accepted you…?”

“—Henry,” I answered. “Not entirely.”

“It was your generosity that you displayed in our little session back there. Most guys get hopped up on the stuff and lose all semblance of respect. But you were smart, you decided to pleasure me after the initial boughts. You showed me the respect I deserve if you are to be under me in this gym.”

I nodded. I am sure someone could write a thesis on the displays of dominance and submission that were apparently crucial to maintain order in this gym.

“Now, you want the full membership, which also sets you apart. Most of our customers are guys looking to get off a few drops at a time, but you went for it all.”

I was not sure how much of this was actually due my actions. Hard-T was, by all accounts incredibly addictive. The only reason I could think that someone would stick to small doses would be that they did not know there were any other effects beyond the sexual performance.

“I just took what I was given at another gym,” I said.

“Well, Jack must have seen some potential in you to give you enough to start the transformation.” He smiled and continued, “It’s powerful stuff, what we deal. Back when we started, sixth months ago, I was a measly 265. Only six feet tall, too.”

He moaned slightly, using his hands to adjust his large member behind the desk.

“I’ve come a long way. And you can, too,” he said.

We talked for a few more minutes and he explained how Hard-T worked: It contained plenty of hormones that accounted for the heightened sexual state, but over a longer period of time, it actually boosted the user’s production of their own testosterone. Men—and only men—who took it grew body hair, gained muscle, had enlarged genitals, and even got taller. Exercise was not necessary, but greatly multiplied the muscle growth. They secreted more pheromones than usual, though this did not seem to affect other users.

After we discussed the issue of price, Mo got up and opened the door. He would lead me to another man who handled the distribution.

Before we left, he noted that, “Most of us got to where we are with one vial a week.”

“I’ll be taking three,” I said.

A bit of cum leaked out of Mo’s cock head when he heard that.



After securing my purchase of three vials (they only gave a week’s worth out a time, since it took too much self-discipline for users to ration it for themselves), I stayed at the gym to poke around for clues to how the operation worked.

I entered the locker room, and immediately heard a commotion. In the showers, a man with a protruding muscle gut was pounding a smaller, but still muscular, guy with tribal tattoos in clear view. I was taken aback, but I was starting to understand that this sort of thing was a common occurrence.

I turned to leave, but found myself facing a broad chest covered in golden hair. I stepped back before I actually made contact, and looked up to see who I had nearly run into. The guy was hulking, with a wide build and wore only a pair of gym shorts that strained to contain his thick legs, full ass, and bulging package. I was just assessing that he was vaguely Semitic when it hit me. I was staring at Samuel Roth. He was completely transformed from the athletic kid in his Facebook photo. He had to be at least a hundred pounds heavier!

“Hey there, little man,” he said in a friendly voice. “I was impressed by the respect you showed Mo out there. You were really hot for a small guy…”

“Thanks…” I said, not knowing what else was appropriate to say after someone watched you perform sexual acts in front of them. In the background, I heard the continuing moans and grunts of the two men having sex.

“Would you want to try some more moves with me?” he asked like he was requesting something as mundane as borrowing a pencil.

He put one arm up against the wall and leaned his bulk in towards me. I noticed a large wet spot on the front of his shorts.

I have to admit, it was enticing. My libido was still supercharged from the vial I had earlier and despite having cummed more times than I could remember that day, I was ready to go. But it felt wrong. He was my client’s boyfriend. And having had sex with Darnell made the whole situation even more complicated.

As politely as I could, I said, “I’m sorry, but I have to leave for something—I’m already late for it, actually…”

I hoped I had not upset someone large enough to beat the shit out of me without breaking a sweat. However, other than a slight frown, Sam seemed unfazed. He stepped aside for me to leave.

As I exited the locker room, I heard him address the two guys fucking: “Room for one more?”

My dick became painfully hard as I resisted the urge to go back and be a voyeur… or a participant.



I passed through the main space on my way out and glimpsed a strange sight: a man was doing overhead presses with loaded barbells… bottomless. He wore a tight T-shirt, but no pants of any kind. His hard cock stuck out in front of their hairy legs, perpendicular to his body. With every push up of the barbell, a little spurt of cum escaped. A small puddle was forming on the floor.

A thought occurred to me; I asked the nearest guy, who was resting between sets, “Is that Hard-T?” pointing to the cum on the floor.

“Nah,” he said, “If that was the case, Mo’d be out of business.”

What was different about Hard-T that gave it such powers?

[GTlifter]

I always said thank u on these things but I really just want to verbalize this is a very detailed and amazing story take your time as always and thank u again

[Proteus]

Thanks, man. Glad you enjoyed it.