The Body Builder Bottom Curse (Incomplete)

Chapter 1

When Dylan Chavez decided to take down his friend, Apollo MacTavish, he didn’t expect that his own life and body would be irrevocably changed, too.

Apollo was a god. Not a literal god as his name might imply but close enough that he never let anyone forget it, least of all the ladies. He knew he was a hung stud with a killer bod and rugged features that melted women’s hearts. With his thick, blond hair cut in a fashionable fade and a closely-trimmed, red beard that really set off his green eyes, all he had to do was strut into a room and the chicks were all over him. His eyes would glint with victory as he looked down on them from his lofty height. He’d square his muscular shoulders and flex his beefy arms and zero in on his next target.

Pity the poor woman who was the recipient of his attention!

Apollo had a reputation on campus for being a predator. He was abusive, both verbally and physically, and got off on degrading women. It was rumored that he kept compromising photos of his victims as insurance against being reported. All he had to do was threaten to make them public…

It worked. A cone of silence followed him, concealing his actions. He managed to skirt the edges of the law, never leaving bruises or incriminating evidence behind. His texts were vague and could be read several ways. Apollo wasn’t stupid; in addition to being an uber jock, he was also straight-A student. And it didn’t hurt that his father was a powerful defense attorney. Apollo knew what he could get away with and enjoyed walking up to the line but never crossing it. 

The fact that the university was so populous meant that he never ran out of willing victims. Sure, there were anonymous threads warning women about him on Reddit but no one dared use his real name; they were all too scared of him…and his father. Apollo made sure to let everyone know just how litigious and determined his dad was.

Poor Dylan was unaware of just how nefarious his friend was until his ex-girlfriend, Amy, fell prey to him. She called him in tears the morning after her drunken encounter with the jock turned into a full-fledged assault. Through bouts of sobbing, she related what she remembered; unfortunately, she’d been too drunk and possibly too drugged to recall everything. Hands clenched into fists, Dyan decided then to take revenge on Apollo.

Amy refused to take his advice to go to the campus police and file a report. Similarly, she would not go to the doctor to be examined. Desperate, he drove to her place and tried to get her to go down to the station with him. After pleading with her for more than an hour, the best he could do is get her to promise to think it over. They spent the rest of the day curled up on the sofa together, Amy sniffling against his shoulder while Dylan plotted his revenge.

He waited until Amy fell asleep to text his friend, Aldus.

Aldus Hitchens was unlike anyone Dylan had ever met. He was an arcanist; someone who knew just about everything about the darkest corners of the web. He was thorough, sneaky and intelligent. Dylan knew that, once he described what Apollo had done to Amy, Aldus would come up with the perfect revenge.

He wasn’t disappointed, although it took a while for him to realize just how perfect Aldus’ plan was.

>>I’m on it.<< Aldus texted back after Dylan described the situation. >>I’m sending you a package from a supplier I found on the dark web. When it arrives, don’t open it! Call me and I’ll walk you through what to do next.<<

Heart pounding with excitement, Dylan grinned. His smile faded, though, when he looked down at Amy’s sleeping, tear-streaked face.

***

True to his word, Aldus’ mysterious package arrived the following week. Dylan immediately texted him, remembering his friend’s words of caution. A moment later, his phone buzzed; it was Aldus.

“Dude, yer not gonna believe what this thing does!” his friend wheezed (Aldus was both asthmatic and a chronic vaper.) “Yer bro’s gonna wish he was dead!”

Dylan smiled darkly. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, man. I want the dude to suffer and suffer bad!”

There was a slight pause and then, “It’s easy. You just gotta get him naked and touch the, um, thing, in the package to his taint, bro.”

“WHAAAAAT???!!!”

“And make sure you’re wearing gloves,” Aldus continued, ignoring Dylan’s shout of outrage. “It can only touch Apollo, no one else.”

“Dude, I’m NOT–!”

“Dylan,” Aldus interrupted. “You want the perfect revenge, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah–”

“Then do as I say: Get Apollo naked and touch the thing to his taint. I promise it’ll be worth it.” Dylan took a deep breath, ready to issue an even more strident protest but Aldus cut him off. “Don’t forget to wear gloves.” The phone clicked; his friend had hung up.

***

After an initial crisis of confidence in Aldus’ judgment, the deed proved to be easier than he’d thought. 

Oh, he was totally grossed out by the idea of touching his friend’s taint, but getting Apollo incapacitated and stripping him bare was actually quite simple. He had Aldus to thank for that. When he opened the box to extract the mysterious item inside, he discovered a package of pills lying atop the bubble wrap. “Potent sedative,” read the words on the little plastic bag. “Use with caution.”

He smiled, breathlessly thanking his friend. These pills would greatly simplify the unpleasant task! Apollo always stayed late after rugby practice on Thursdays because it was his day to clean up the team’s gear. All Dillon had to do was ‘volunteer’ to help out his erstwhile friend and slip the pills into his water bottle…

He paused before unwrapping the remaining contents of the package; his heart was thudding so hard inside his chest that he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. After a minute, he was sufficiently relaxed and donned protective gloves, unrolling the bubble wrap to reveal the mysterious item. His eyebrows shot up when he saw what was revealed: Inside was a pink velvet bag with a tasseled drawstring. (What the fuck is that? he wondered. And how will it help me take down Apollo?) Curious, he opened the drawstring and inverted the bag onto his palm.

A tiny, pink dildo slipped out.

“What that–!” he exclaimed, inadvertently jumping with surprise. “Aldus, you motherfucker! I’m gonna kill you!”

He threw the dildo across the room in disgust. It clattered against the floor, skittering under the sofa. Scowling, he pulled out his phone and called Aldus, preparing to ream the dude a new asshole.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” his friend drawled, forestalling Dylan’s angry tirade, “and ya gotta trust  me, bro. That thing’ll fuckin’ destroy MacTavish. Just do what I tole ya and rub it on his taint. Leave the rest up to the…er, well, you know.”

“Dildo,” Dylan finished for him. “It’s a fuckin’ dildo, man! How the fuck is a dildo gonna help me get revenge on Apollo?!”

“Look, bro,” Aldus said evenly before he broke off in a fit of coughing. During the pause, Dylan could hear the sound of an inhaler in the background. When his friend spoke again, his voice was raspy. “Just do it. You’ll thank me later. And whatever you do, DON’T TOUCH IT!”

 ***

Three days later…

“Aw, man, thanks!” Apollo said, clapping Dylan on the back after practice on Thursday. “Yer the best.”

Dylan feigned a congenial smile but was smoldering inside. It was all he could do to stop himself from strangling the shit out of the asshole. Instead of murdering him, though, he mumbled, “Oh, you know me, always willing to help a guy out.”

Apollo grinned stupidly, clearly oblivious to the hatred emanating off of Dylan. “Let’s grab a beer after this. My treat.”

The very thought was more than Dylan could stomach and he politely declined. “Take a raincheck, bro? I gotta study tonight.”

When Apollo draped a heavy, sweaty arm over his shoulders, Dylan wanted to recoil in disgust. “Ah, c’mon, man!” the big rapist coaxed. “Tomorrow’s Friday. It’s pussy time!”

Dylan ducked out from under the jock’s arm and forced himself to unclench his jaw. “Sorry, bro. Maybe later. Now let’s get this gear cleaned up.”

***

While Apollo was rummaging around in the equipment room, Dylan spiked his water with the sedative, adding all three pills just to be safe. Part of him didn’t care if the asshole overdosed; death by sedation was better than the jock deserved. When the dude sauntered back into the room and nonchalantly took a deep pull from the bottle, smacking his lips loudly (Apollo was, among other things, an attention whore), Dylan smirked with victory. It was only a matter of minutes before the jock collapsed onto the locker room floor, falling into an unresponsive stupor.

Dylan regarded the jock’s supine form coldly. He knew what he had to do–strip off the jock’s shorts and touch the dildo to his taint–but somehow he couldn’t resist the temptation to savor his victory. He knew it was perverse. He knew that, by glorying in his power over this repugnant ape, he was no better than Apollo. After all, Apollo’s crime was taking advantage of the powerless…which was exactly what Dylan was planning to do. Still, he consoled himself with the conviction that he was exacting revenge, not perpetrating a crime. There was a difference, wasn’t there?

Pulling out his phone, he stalked over and gazed down upon his victim. Apollo was lying on his back, arms and legs akimbo. He looked so much like a puppet whose strings had been cut that Dylan snorted with laughter. He squatted down and tugged the jock’s body into a sitting position, propping his back against a bench. Apollo’s head lolled to the side, a rope of drool sliding down his furry cheek.

Dylan had never been this close to Apollo before. Sure, they were on the same team and spent hours practicing and playing together. Still, even before Apollo raped Amy, Dylan had had a cordial relationship at best with the big jock. Apollo was just too cocky and full of himself; it was a huge turnoff and Dylan instinctively kept his distance.

Now, though, Apollo was right here, only a couple feet away and Dylan found himself unwillingly captivated. He hated to admit it but part of him envied Apollo MacTavish. The dude had everything: The body, the looks, the brains…

…but, most of all, the penis.

Dylan swallowed, staring wistfully at the bulge in Apollo’s form-fitting rugby shorts. Even sedated and flaccid as fuck, the dude’s monster cock was straining to break free from it nylon confines. Its outline was clearly visible, leaving nothing to the imagination. Dylan swallowed again, feeling both entranced and revolted. That cock was so long, thick and…

He shook himself, trying unsuccessfully to reroute his mind’s current trajectory. It was no use, though. That massive package was just too mesmerizing. What was it about a giant dick that got even straight boys riled up? He sighed, momentarily allowing himself the luxury of surrendering to that big cock’s gravitational pull.

Apollo loved to parade around naked after practice, taking every opportunity to flaunt his hefty appendage. Dylan hated him for it…and hated himself because he looked every time. Oh, he was discreet, keeping his head down and gaze averted, but inevitably he could cast a quick glance, just enough to catch a glimpse of that glorious member. His much more modest nub would invariably plump up a bit. He told himself it was the thought of having a huge cock like Apollo’s that turned him on, nothing more. Still, he never missed an opportunity to ogle.

And now Apollo was passed out and at his mercy…

Dylan forcibly shoved aside the scandalous urge that was ricocheting around inside his mind and reached out to grasp the waistband of Apollo’s shorts. With a quick tug, he yanked them off, leaving the jock clad only in his jockstrap and practice jersey.

He sighed wistfully. The dude’s package was so huge that it rendered the pouch of his jock nearly transparent. Somehow, the sight of that monster swelling the pouch near to bursting was more prurient than if he’d been completely naked.

Minutes passed and still Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off of that stupendous piece of manhood. His tiny cocklet was rock hard in his own shorts. (He never wore a jock because there was no need.) His pulse was hammering in his ears. God, what he wouldn’t give to have a cock like that…

Apollo stirred then and Dylayn shook himself out of his reverie. He had to get moving! Forcing himself to his feet, he paced over to his locker where he donned latex gloves and removed the dildo from his backpack. Returning to the unconscious jock, he allowed himself one last, longing look at the magnificent specimen of manhood.

Apollo’s entire lower body was covered in a carpet of thick, brownish-auburn hair. His legs were muscular, his thighs like tree trunks. And his waist was so narrow! How did he do it? How did he attain such perfection when mere mortals like Dylan had to struggle just to keep their belly flab from hanging over their belts? It wasn’t fair!

Clearly no manscaper, the dude’s pubic bush was out of control, spilling out from the sides of the pouch and waistband of his jock. His treasure trail was perfectly symmetrical, smack dab in the middle of those deep cum gutters. Dylan licked his lips, aware that he was furiously turned on and unable to do anything about it. (What was it about Apollo that he could elicit such potent desire even in a straight dude?) When Apollo groaned, though, he kicked himself into action.

Carefully, he spread Apollo’s legs, widening them far enough to expose his furry taint. Dylan’s eyes were inevitably drawn downward and he knelt, squinting. If he got down low enough, he could just about see…

He stopped himself. What the fuck was he thinking? He was here to take revenge on Apollo, not rape him! He straightened and lifted the velvet bag, dumping the slender dildo into his palm. He was reaching out with shaking hands, aiming the rounded tip at the jock’s fuzzy cleft–

BUZZ!

Startled by the sound of his phone, he dropped the dildo. It fell to the floor and rolled off to the side, just touching his knee. He jerked backward, remembering too late Aldus’ admonition. It had barely grazed the hair on his leg, though. Surely, that wasn’t enough to–

BUZZ!

Dylan set the dildo aside and pulled out his phone, cursing loudly when he saw that the caller was Aldus. He swiped his finger across the screen and answered tersely.

“Yo, dude! Did ya do it yet?” Aldus asked brightly.

“Jesus, Aldus! WTF, dude?! I’m just about to–”

“Good, I’m not too late,” his friend said. “I mighta forgot to tell ya sumthin’ important.”

Dylan frowned. “And what is that?” There was a long pause, so long that he thought Aldus had muted himself while he had an asthma attack. “Well?” he prompted.

There was a long exhalation on the other end and then, “I, well, you know, mighta forgot to tell ya that ya gotta stick the…thing…inside Apollo’s, um, er…”

Dylan cut him off. “You’re joking. You’re fuckin’ joking, right?” He wasn’t stupid; he knew the word that Aldus was too emarrassed to say. “You want me to jab this fuckin’ dildo inside his asshole, don’t you?”

“Well, not jab, exactly. That might hurt.”

Dylan growled in frustration. “Aldus, what is really going on here? Is this another one of your jokes? ‘Cuz if it is–”

“No joke!” his friend squeaked. “I’m hella serious, bro! Once you do this to Apollo, his life as you know it will be over. You won’t fuckin’ believe the results!”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why but I still feel like you’re punking me. You realize that this is the grossest thing I’ve ever done, right?”

“I know, I know! And I feel ya, bro. I really do! Listen, just push it up his rosebud a couple inches and yer done. Easy as pie…hole.” Aldus snickered at his joke before adding, “And leave the dildo inside him. It’s important that it be there when he wakes up. He needs to be the one to pull it out.” His voice trailed off but, before hanging up, he warned, “And whatever ya do, DON’T TOUCH IT!”

The receiver clicked and Dylan scowled down at his phone. Sometimes he really hated Aldus.

***

Apollo MacTavish

Apollo awoke slumped against a bench in the locker room. He groaned, reaching up to massage his head before he realized he was naked from the waist down. And that wasn’t all…

“What the–?!”

He jerked upright, realizing there was an alien sensation coming from his butthole. It felt almost like…

“JESUS FUCKIN’ CHRIST!!!”

Jumping to his feet in outrage, he felt the…thing…fall out and clatter on the floor at his feet. He looked down in appalled disbelief.

A dildo.

It was a little pink dildo.

A dildo that had been inserted into his…

He shuddered in disgust. Who the fuck had knocked him out and stuck a dildo up his ass?

It didn’t take long for him to narrow down the list of suspects to one person: Dylan.

Fuckin’ Dylan Chavez!

Apollo clenched his hands into fists, casting murderously about the locker room. Was that the fat fucker still here somewhere? If so, he would kill him. KILL HIM!!!

He was bending over to pull up his shorts when he did the strangest thing. As if acting on its own accord, his hand reached down and grabbed the dildo off the floor. The next instant, he grunted in alarm when the same hand proceeded to insert the horrid thing back inside his rectum. It went in with a little pop and then stayed put. Warmth radiated from deep inside and he found himself inexplicably relaxing. His shoulders dropped and a big, stupid grin spread across his face.

He sighed with relief, feeling the dildo settle in place. It fit so perfectly and made him feel so full that the mere thought of removing it made him sad.

“What…is…going…on…with…me?” he choked between clenched teeth.

His resistance didn’t last long. As he stood there, the foreignness of the sensation rapidly disappeared. In its place, he felt a new conviction take over, followed quickly by a new hunger.

Aldus had been right: Apollo’s life was never going to be the same again.

***

Chapter 2

Apollo MacTavish

Still groggy from the sedative, Apollo stumbled into the showers. With each step, the little dildo shifted inside him, pushing to and fro, and stimulating him in the most profane fashion. To his undying shame, he grew more and more aroused. It was the most humiliating thing that he’d ever done. Normal guys didn’t shove dildos up their butts and then proceed to get more and more turned on! Why didn’t he just take it out and throw it away? Each time he tried to make himself, though, he found himself clenching his butt cheeks in defiance, pushing the dildo in deeper. Oh, what was wrong with him?

He continued to war with himself while he showered off. On the one hand, he felt violated by what Dylan had done to him. The dude had drugged him, pulled off his clothes and stuck a dildo up his ass! That wasn’t just wrong, it was criminal. He clenched his fists as he realized he was the victim of sexual assault. (Unfortunately, bright as he might be, Apollo never once considered that he was guilty of the same thing: Drugging countless women and taking advantage of them sexually. In his moral universe, women were things to be played with but a man’s butthole was sacrosanct. You just didn’t go there!) 

On the other hand, he couldn’t keep his hands away from his hole. The sensation of the little dildo rubbing him…in there…was so delicious that it made his knees weak. His giant cock bobbed in front of him, bouncing up and down as he gave into temptation and allowed himself to reach back and cup his furry buttocks in his big hands. Very slowly, cautiously, he extended an index finger and caressed his tight manbud, a low groan escaping his lips as he did so. When his fingertip touched the end of the dildo and he pushed against it, the electric shot of pure bliss as it caressed his prostate nearly drove him to tears.

“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The full-throated roar had escaped his lips before he could suppress it. Apollo’s face turned bright red and he looked around sheepishly. Even though he knew he was the only one in the shower room, he still felt guilty. He was in a public shower sporting a giant hardon and fingering his hole! What was wrong with him??

His body didn’t care. 

Even as his mind churned with mortification, he dug his finger in deeper, sinking to his knees and letting the warm spray shower down on him. He leaned back and spread his knees, giving his finger easy access. He stroked himself with his other hand, feeling his giant cock swell to its full thirteen inches. 

Despite everything, a smug grin spread across his face as he gripped himself; he never got over how amazing it was to be endowed like a demigod! His fuckstick was so massive that his fingers didn’t touch when he wrapped his hand around his shaft. He stroked upward with increasing vigor, groaning with pleasure each time his hand hit the hefty overhang of his cockhead. Yeah, it was true: Apollo’s shaft might be girthy as fuck but his glans was even fatter. He cracked an eyelid and smirked as he took in his magnificence.

“OH, FUCK! FUCK, OH, FUCK! I’M GONNA CUM!”

He yelled this at the top of his voice. It was so loud that anyone within a hundred meters could hear him but he couldn’t stop himself. Trying to stop himself from shouting only made him yell louder. It was like his body was intent on doing the exact opposite of what he willed it to do. 

Bellowing like a heifer in heat, his vision exploded with stars as he thrust his index finger violently inside his hole, shoving the dildo as far up inside his chute as possible. The explosion of ecstasy left him gasping for air.  He fell back and stared at the ceiling in dazed delight. His huge cock spasmed in his hand and his big, hairy balls churned as he spewed the most prodigious load of his young life.

He swallowed and tasted something salty and bitter on his tongue. Ooh, what was that flavor? He shivered with pleasure. Yum! It was both foreign and completely addictive. He smacked his lips, sticking out his tongue and circling his lips, eagerly lapping up every last drop of that magical substance.

Not until he propped himself up on his elbows did he realize what it was.

His cum.

It was splattered all over his chest, neck and face, covering his fur with a gloppy, translucent coating of goo.

He’d just fuckin’ licked up his own cum!

Apollo wretched, trying to throw up but instead found himself scooping up as much of that precious spunk as he could get in his hands and licking them clean with wild abandon. In no time, he’d cleaned himself up, managing to swallow several mouthfuls of that forbidden nectar.

He wanted more!

And his ass wanted more, too.

Almost as soon as he’d cum, he could feel his butthole opening and closing, hungry from more. His pucker clenched and unclenched, demanding attention. His cock stirred, rising off his stomach like the head of a hungry serpent. He sighed heavily, knowing he couldn’t resist the demonic urge to finger himself for much longer.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Why was his formerly tight, virgin hole suddenly so hungry?

So hungry…

So hung…

So…

OH, FUCK!!!

He felt his insides give way as something expanded inside him. His head reeled with confusion and his hole loosened further. What had just happened?

Had the dildo just…?

But no, that wasn’t possible!

It couldn’t be!

Could it?

Why did he suddenly feel fuller…down there?

With shaking hands, he lay back and raised his knees, spreading his cheeks on the tile floor. His heart began to pound as he gently probed his flaming hot hole. It felt like it was on fire! And his rosebud could hardly be called a bud anymore. Not only was it hot but it was swollen, too. Swollen and throbbing with an unholy lust all of its own.

Fuck me! What is happening?! Sternly pushing the worry aside, he grappled with himself, trying to assert his famous will power. When he put his mind to something, he always won. This was no exception. Get a hold of yourself, Apollo! You have to fight this. Don’t give in to it! Don’t give in! Don’t…give…in…

He gave in.

Teasing his inexplicably bigger and looser ass lips with a finger, he moaned with renewed hunger and pushed in deeper. Ah, fuck, that feels good! Further. Just a bit further. And then, after a couple more inches, he finally encountered the wide base of the dildo.

Wait.

Wide base?

The dildo had been distinctly bullet-shaped before, hadn’t it?

It didn’t have a base, let alone a wide one. If it had a wide base, there was no way he could have fit it inside himself so easily.

But, no, now the base was decidedly bigger.

He frowned, awash with confusion.

And pushed his finger in another inch, running it up the side of the little dildo.

He flinched, retracting his finger as if scalded.

The dildo wasn’t so little anymore.

And that wasn’t a base!

The whole dildo was wider.

A lot wider!

There was no doubt. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was no getting away from one, terrible fact:

The dildo had grown inside him.

***

After five more explosive orgasms, Apollo managed to crawl out of the shower room to get dressed. The dildo was like a hot poker inside him by then and, even though he didn’t think it had grown any bigger after that initial expansion, he swore he could feel it permanently rearranging his insides.

When he stood and straightened, a moan escaped his lips. Every movement caused that profane plastic rod to caress him in a different way. It was enough to leave him breathless and weak in the knees. His cock was perennially half-hard, refusing to deflate beyond half mast. It slapped painfully against his thighs as he pulled his boxers out of his locker and attempted to step into them. Even his balls were sensitive, hanging low and loose in his stretched-out sac. He looked down at himself in consternation after he pulled on his sweatpants: His bulge was obscene!

Normally, he gloried in showing off his endowment but that night he wished fervently for the first time in his life for a smaller package. He was completely exhausted and just wanted to get back to his frat house without drawing attention to himself. Plus, he was tired of being turned on. He needed a clear head to figure out what to do next. If he kept fingering himself, jacking off and eating his cum, he’d never get the, er, bottom of what was happening to him.

He had to get that fucking dildo out of him!

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be. Every time he decided he was going to squat down and pull the evil thing out of his hole, his body betrayed him and he ended up ramming it in deeper. This time was no exception. The mere thought of removing it made his hole clench. He gritted his teeth,  and his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the dildo embed itself in his chute.

He was fucked.

Fucked in the ass by a dildo, that is.

When he saw Dylan Chavez again, he would fucking kill him!

***

Somehow, he made it back to his frat house. The trip across campus had been horrendous and humiliating. He walked like a zombie, moaning and groaning the whole way, a spreading dark stain clearly visible on the crotch of his sweatpants. Guys snickered at him, elbowing their buddies, and the girls gave him a wide berth. It hurt him to the core seeing all of those fine fillies drawing back in disgust at the very sight of him. He was accustomed to being the recipient of adulation or at least thinly veiled appreciation. Being a freak was not an experience he wished to repeat.

There was nothing he could do about it, though. With the dildo driving him to distraction and the hunger to drink more of his cum increasing with each passing second, he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. None too soon, he reached home, staggering through the door and up the stairs before collapsing in defeat on his bed.

He wanted to die.

He wanted to…

He wanted…

Ungh!

Like a mindless robot, he yanked off his sweats and underwear and, propping his knees up on the bed, commenced fingering himself with abandon. It was easy now to shove three fingers inside; with all of the fingering, his hole getting looser and looser. In no time, he was pushing against the base of the dildo, driving it upward and moaning with delight.

He hated himself for doing it but was powerless to stop.

Only after he’d worked himself to three messy climaxes did he stop and then only because his frat brother, Clifford, complained.

“Jesus, bro! Would ya knock it off!” he yelled from the other side of the door. “I’m tryna sleep!”

Apollo meekly clammed up but nothing could stop him from licking himself clean of cum. He lay there, staring helplessly up at the ceiling and praying for release. It was no use. In a few seconds, he started probing his hole again. With so much practice, he was getting better at finding his weak spot and soon was rock hard again. He chewed on his pillow, stifling his groans as he massaged his prostate and worked himself to yet another wild ejaculation.

***

He fell into a fitful slumber well past midnight. One dream, however, surfaced and continued to torment him. In it, he was on fire with desire. This time, however, the desire wasn’t for a chick or even the horrid dildo that was still jammed up his ass.

It was for muscle.

An overriding, undeniable hunger for muscle.

He needed to grow bigger! And FAST!

And he would stop at nothing to grow bigger muscles.

He awoke, body drenched with sweat and gasping for air as if he’d been drowning. Where did that dream come from? He didn’t need bigger muscles! He was already so stacked the coach had warned him not to grow any bigger. Doing so would risk his position on the rugby team. Muscles were great but he still needed to be able to run! His bulging frame was already enough of a hindrance, making it hard even to lumber across the field. No, of course, he didn’t want bigger muscles. That was just crazy!

He tried to relax, even scooting his bare butt back and forth over the sticky sheets just to feel the calming pressure of the dildo against his prostate.

It was no use.

His hunger for cum and for anal fulfillment had been replaced by another, even more powerful hunger.

His muscles demanded to be worked out and worked out hard. They would not take no for an answer. It didn’t matter that it was three o’clock in the morning. He had to pump iron!

Unable to resist the compulsion, he got up and drove around the city, looking for a gym that was still open at that hour. After more than an hour of searching, he finally found one in a seedy part of town; it was a long drive from campus but he didn’t care. At least it was open!

A grizzled man with ridiculously swollen pecs glanced up at him as he entered; his name tag read, ‘Tony.’ He looked Apollo up and down with a jaundiced eye before delicately sniffing the air. As the Apollo’s odor confirmed something, he smirked and pointed to a door on the left.

“I see we got another one,” he pronounced, lip curling slightly. “You need to work out in there.”

Apollo blinked sleepily at him, still trying to make himself turn around and leave. The strange compulsion to work out, though, would not let go of him. He knew that, just like he couldn’t make himself remove the dildo, he wouldn’t be able to leave that gym without working out and working out hard. His muscles required it. Period.

He had started to move toward the indicated door when Tony stopped him. “And put these on. Himbo bottoms like you gotta wear ‘em or the owner’ll kick yer ass outta here.”

“‘Himbo bottoms’…?”

Tony raised a weary eyebrow before craning his neck to look back at Apollo’s buttocks. “Yer new, I see. And still have a long way to go before yer ready. Don’t worry, though, Princess. You’ll get yer hole packed soon enough.” Indignant, Apollo drew himself up to his full height. At more than six and a half feet tall, he loomed over the man. Tony, however, only seemed amused by this pathetic show of bravado. “Look, Cupcake,” he drawled, extending his beefy arm and pointing once again toward the door on the left, “it’ll be easier for all of us if you just give in and let it happen. You’ll be happier once ya do. Now get changed and work dem glutes!”

Apollo’s mouth fell open. He’d never been talked to like this before! He couldn’t believe his ears. He was a macho jock with a dad who was a high-power lawyer! No one dismissed him or impugned his masculinity and lived to tell the tale! Inexplicably, though, when he tried to get up in Tony’s face and yell back at him, he discovered he lacked all desire to do so. His shoulders slumped and he lowered his head meekly. The next second, Tony gloated when Apollo obediently turned and headed toward the door. A sign hanging over it read, “HIMBO BOTTOMS” in big, pink letters. 

He was reaching out to grab the handle when he stopped in revulsion. Through the glass door he spotted a bunch of the biggest, dumbest, ugliest brutes he’d ever seen. To a man, they possessed supremely bloated physiques and wore the skimpiest outfits made entirely out of pink Spandex. His brain blanked out but not before he registered one very uncomfortable fact: While all of the guys’ muscles were cartoonishly large, one body part stood out as humongously out of proportion: Their asses. He closed his eyes, convinced he had imagined it. But, no, when he opened them again, he realized he hadn’t been mistaken. If anything, he’d underestimated the sheer enormity of those behinds. The globes spilling out of their tiny, pink hot pants were obscenely round and ripe. 

As he gaped in horror, his gaze drifted downward, inevitably landing the outfit that Tony had stuffed into his hands; it was shiny, sheer and very pink.

Just like what muscle apes were wearing inside the ‘Himbo Bottom’ gym.

***

Chapter 3

Dylan Chavez

Dylan awoke the next morning feeling sore. He propped himself up on his elbows and groaned. Every muscle felt like it had been worked out to the point of tearing and then some. Fuck, what had happened to him while he slept? He sank back down on the pillow and tried to fall back asleep. Today, he decided, I will skip class. 

Maybe I’m coming down with a cold or something? he thought, running his hands over his aching pecs. Fuck, why’re they so swollen? Rugby practice wasn’t that hard yesterday and we didn’t even do any weight training!

After lying there for a while and feeling worse, he decided to get up and take a pain reliever. He froze, though, when he looked over at the nightstand next to his bed and saw a red bottle that he swore hadn’t been there before. “TOP STRENGTH,” read the big letters on the side.

“What the…?”

Then it came back to him.

‘Here, bro,’ the man behind the counter at the gym said. ‘Take these in the morning when ya wake up. Yer gonna be super sore tomorrow and these little babies’ll help.’

Dylan reached out and took the proffered bottle without thinking. He rolled it over in his hand and mouthed the words, ‘TOP STRENGTH.’ He was confused. Where was he? And why would he be sore tomorrow?

The man smiled kindly and patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s Ok, bud. All the new tops are lost when they first come here but you’ll get used to it. Now go home and get some rest. Yer gonna need it. Ya got a lotta growin’ to do!’

‘Thanks, man,’ Dylan mumbled, still confused. ‘I mean, thanks, Tony,’ he amended when he read the man’s name tag.

‘My pleasure, ya big brute!’ Tony rumbled, rubbing the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. ‘I’m always happy to help out a fellow dom. Yer gonna be a big star, I can tell. You’ve already got all those dumb himbo pussies wet and drippin’.’ He looked over Dylan’s shoulder and smirked. ‘What a bunch of muscle cows in heat!’

Feeling a stab of premonition, Dylan turned and followed Tony’s gaze. Behind him was a door with a huge, pink sign reading, ‘HIMBO BOTTOMS.’ How had he not noticed it before? It was right next to the door he’d just exited, the one with an equally huge sign containing the words, ‘HUNG TOPS,’ in bold red letters.

He blinked when his gaze drifted down to the door itself. Leering at him from behind the glass was a crowd of the biggest, dumbest and ugliest muscle beasts he’d ever seen. Wearing skimpy, pink Lycra unitards that revealed more than they covered, they were uniformly bloated with so much muscle that he wondered how they could even move. Several of them had their faces pressed against the glass. Their dull gazes transmitted one thought and one thought only: Complete and utter lust. Their eyes were glued to Dylan’s body, devouring every bulge and curve with wanton desire.

He shivered and started to turn away but then stopped. ‘Wait, was that…?’ But, no, he was mistaken. When he looked back, the face he thought he’d recognized was gone.

‘Stoopid muscle sluts,’ Tony muttered under his breath before continuing, ‘Just ignore ‘em, bro. Yer too good for ‘em anyway. Yer a hung top, after all.’

The pills really worked. Dylan felt much better within a few minutes after swallowing a couple. Stretching and rolling out of bed, he was surprised when he looked down and saw what he was wearing: A red jockstrap with the words, ‘ALPHA STUD,’ emblazoned in big letters across the waistband.

Why am I wearing that? I don’t need… He stopped as he prepared to pull it off, realizing something that made him straighten his shoulders with pride. The jockstrap made it look like he actually had a bulge, and a big one at that. Fuck, he’d never had a bulge before! He widened his stance and thrust out his crotch, admiring the inexplicably beefy outline of his manhood in the pouch.

Of course, it wasn’t long before he’d slipped a hand inside and cupped his package, giving a start of surprise when he did so.

It wasn’t just the jockstrap.

His cock and balls really were bigger!

But how?

No, scratch that. He didn’t care! He wasn’t gonna look a gift stallion in the mouth!

His face broke into a goofy grin as he whipped out his newly-enlarged member and commenced jacking with abandon. His cock swelled magnificently in his hand, reaching at least seven inches in no time. He stared down at it with a pounding heart. He finally had a cock! He had a real, man-sized cock!

And his balls…

Ungh!

They were bigger and heavier and hairer, too!

Happy beyond measure, he yanked the jockstrap down his thighs and spread his legs wide. Then he jacked even harder, moaning with ecstasy when he felt his heavy balls slap against his taint. In rapid succession, he’d worked himself to three, noisy climaxes, spewing loads of hot, slimy cum far and wide across his dorm room. He didn’t even care if anyone heard him. He was a stud with a man-sized cock and a swingin’ pair of balls and he wanted the whole world to know it!

***

He strutted across campus like a prize bull. With each step, he gloried in the alien but welcome pressure of the jock cupping his big package. It was probably his imagination but even his clothes fit tighter. His pecs thrust out from his t-shirt, perky nips poking out from the stretched fabric. His bulging biceps burst out of the sleeves, rounded and firm even when he wasn’t flexing. His cargo shorts were tight across the ass and legs but narrow at the hips. It almost felt like he’d lost some inches of flab around his waist…but he knew that was impossible. Still, he was determined to enjoy the illusion while it lasted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy with his body.

People even treated him differently; it was subtle but noticeable. Sure, he enjoyed the covert, admiring glances from the ladies but it was the guys who really went out of their way to make him feel like a king. They smiled, eyes growing brighter as they looked at him–really looked at him! He even got approving nods from some of the guys on the university football team. That never happened! 

Even though he was a rugby player, rugby was only an intramural sport on campus and barely anyone attended their scrimmages. The guys on the football team, however, were true gods and everyone bowed down to them. He had to pinch himself when he saw one of the big linebackers nudge his bro and, looking back at Dylan, murmur, “The dude should be on the team, man. I mean, look at him!”

Dylan was used to being a member of the jock pack but was always the one who didn’t stand out and faded into the background. On the rugby team, he was respected but he wasn’t a part of the inner circle like Apollo. He was used to making do with the scraps left over after the big dawgs got done gorging themselves, happy beyond measure when one of the alphas condescended to acknowledge his presence.

Today, however, he had rocketed to the top of the pack and he reveled in it. When he approached the physics building before class, the rugby captain, Tre Howard, beckoned him over. 

“Yo, Dylan!” he called out. “There you are, ma man!”

Dylan smiled back at him and swaggered up to the group of his fellow players. They parted to make way, uniformly happy–almost eager–to see him. Tre’s big hand was on his shoulder and he squeezed, murmuring, “Glad to see you, bro!” He paused, dark brown eyes twinkling, before asking, “Have you been workin’ out er sumthin’, man? Yer lookin’ great!”

“Aw, thanks, man,” Dylan rumbled in a deep voice that he almost didn’t recognize as his own. “You look great, too.”

Tre’s smile deepened, causing Dylan’s heart to skip a beat. “Is that so?” the big captain drawled. “That means a lot to me, man, ‘specially coming from you.”

Wait, did I just flirt with him? Dylan wondered, panicking briefly before he realized that Tre had started it. This recognition was almost more panic-inducing, though. The thought of Tre Howard flirting with him was nearly too much to bear. 

Somehow, the fact that both he and Tre were presumably straight never entered his mind. If Dylan had been thinking clearly, this should have set off alarm bells but he was riding too high to question it. He loved being the center of attention and wasn’t about to ruin the mood but thinking too critically about it.

He stood around with his bros, shooting the shit and enjoying the close proximity of so many large, muscular men. The way they hung on his every word and laughed at all of his jokes…Jesus, he could get used to this! He was almost sad when it was time to break up and find his way to the classroom.

Taking a seat toward the back, Dylan was too busy savoring his newfound status as a top dawg to notice anything else. Gradually, however, he found himself sitting up and lifting his nose to the air. What was that scent? He inhaled deeply, shivering with pleasure. God, whatever it was smelled heavenly, musky and floral at the same time. Piquant and earthy with overtones of lilac and rosemary and another, more carnal aroma that he couldn’t quite identify. Ambergris?

Lol! Would you look at me! he thought. I’m a regular sommelier!

He took another deep breath and exhaled, eyes rolling back in his head. Fuck that smelled good! And it got him hard, too. He looked down at his crotch, realizing with chagrin that his erection was clearly visible despite the best efforts of his jockstrap to contain it. He shifted in his chair, trying to pull his t-shirt down over himself. It was no use, though; it was too tight and too short. He crossed his legs, grimacing as his big thighs sandwiched his poor dick between them like a vise.

He chewed the insides of his cheeks, desperately searching for something to distract himself from the intoxicating aroma. He’d almost given up when he happened to look up at the desk in front of him. Whoa, he thought. Who’s that? 

The young guy before him had the broadest shoulders and narrowest waist that Dylan had ever seen. Further, he was blond and sported a funny new haircut: The dude looked like he’d taken the clippers to his head and shorn away the sides, leaving himself with a faux hawk. The ‘skunk stripe’ of untrimmed hair running down the center of his scalp was long and shaggy, ending in a pronounced ponytail. It was almost but not quite a mullet. 

Something about the crudeness and severity of the cut screamed ‘redneck’ and Dylan’s lip started to curl in derision. He stopped, though, when he realized the guy’s overly-tight t-shirt was pink. Perplexed–jocks like this didn’t normally wear pink–he scooted forward in his chair and looked down, doing a double take when he saw that even the dude’s mesh shorts were pink.

What kind of a jock goes around with a faux hawk and dressed all in pink? he wondered, determined to figure out this enigma. It wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter, though; something about the dude was mesmerizing and Dylan discovered he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He leaned forward, memorizing every detail of that hulking frame and goofy haircut. 

The guy shifted in his chair and that tail of blond hair swayed against the nape of his neck. It was really thick hair from the look of it. Almost luxurious. Yellow gold with just a hint of red. His skin was tanned and taut. Beneath the pink t-shirt, every sinew was visible. The dude was really muscular!

And those narrow hips!

Dylan realized his mouth was watering and he sat up abruptly, trying to make himself look away. It was impossible, though; he was caught. The dude tilted his head to the side, flipping his hair in an almost coquettish manner. Before he could stop himself, Dyla moaned.

Ah, fuck! That smell! It’s coming from him!

It was true. That alluring aroma drifting through the air and tantalizing Dylan’s nostrils belonged to the mysterious young guy. Dylan swallowed again, realizing his cock was aching. There was no way he could keep his legs crossed without emasculating himself. Ha! Big dick problems, he thought, uncrossing his legs and moving his hands protectively over his crotch in the perhaps futile attempt to conceal his bulge.

Just when he thought he’d gotten control of himself, the jock leaned forward in his chair. Dylan straightened, eyes riveted to the dude’s back. Through the gap at the base of the chair, he had a clear view of that backside.

Jesus, look at that booty!

The pink, mesh shorts had to stretch to contain it and, the farther the dude leaned forward, the more strained the mesh became. Soon, there was more flesh visible than pink nylon and…

Holy fuck! Is that what I think it is?

Dylan leaned forward hungrily, desperate for a better view of that amazingly big and voluptuous bottom. It was almost as if the dude had eyes in the back of his head and was fully aware of Dylan’s scrutiny because at that moment he pushed his butt backward in his chair. Dylan watched breathlessly as the waistband of those overstuffed shorts slipped down, exposing–

FUCK! OH, FUCK! LOOK AT THAT!

His eyes goggled and his cock spasmed. It had had enough! The poor thing wasn’t designed to handle so much erotic and sensory stimulation and it erupted in a spontaneous orgasm. Powerless to stop it, Dylan let out a long, low, piteous moan as more and more of his hot cum pumped through the cup of his jock, staining the crotch of his shorts.

He didn’t care.

No, he didn’t give a fuck.

All he cared about was that fat, juicy, succulent bottom staring back at him, exposed for all the world to see. (Well, Ok, for Dylan to see at least.) It was a truly perfect peach, fuzzy and ripe and delectable. A good three inches of the top of each globe spilled over the top of the waistband.

As provocative as the dude’s giant peach was, though, it was something else that caused Dylan to cream himself: Riding atop those mounds of goodness was a slim band of fuschia elastic. And not just any elastic. No, it was immediately obvious to anyone who saw it that the dude wasn’t wearing typical bro underwear. Nope! No boxers for this jock! Only the finest thong would do!

Wait.

A thong?!

Yessiree, that thar was a thong!

Dylan was riding the exquisite tides of erotic bliss, his big cock spewing load after load of cum, his gaze lovingly fixed upon the unexpected anomaly: A hefty jock clad in pink and wearing a thong. His tongue lolled out of the corner of his mouth and he drooled uncontrollably. He knew he was in danger of being expelled from class, knew it was only a matter of time before everyone realized he was soaked in cum but nothing could tear his gaze away from the whaletail of the dainty, pink thong riding up the ass crack of that mysterious and alluring jock.

He knew then that whatever happened, he and that jock were destined to meet. Or rather his cock was destined to meet the jock’s huge, soft booty. There was no doubt in his mind: That ass belonged to him!

***