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How I Became The King of Pro Bodybuilding


Supercrav

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  • 1 month later...
 
We both fell asleep moments after that. When i woke up the next morning, after a few seconds of severe shock as my brain was trying to compute the sight of these vast landscapes of tanned, striated lumps of muscle clustered besides me on the bed, I finally saw Michael's face smiling at me. Its brutally gorgeous perfection should have shocked me even more, but instead, it made things click in my brain and all was back in place.
 
" Good morning partner" he said. with the spring morning lagoon blue of his eyes, his perfect teeth looking at me.
 
" Good morning Michael, what time is it?
 
- Six o'clock, we might as well leave before having a chance to walk into the biggest asshole in the world, remember?
 
- Yes, yes, are you good Michael? About last night..."
 
As an answer his smile broadened even more as he turned his head to look at the arm he was rising, and flexed the magnificent biceps to tell him
 
" I feel better than ever Jeff.
 
- OK, I wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with the sex we had last night."
 
Looking back at me, he said
 
" Don't you worry, hon. To begin with, I knew that I would have to pleasure you to obtain your help, but also to thank you, it is the least I can do for all the fantastic benefits I expect from you.
 
- But, you know, I'm not even sure how it works, from what I've seen, stuff happens on the following circle, you know, when you start the preparation phase for a new competition..."
 
I was worried about his level of expectation, all the more as he clearly wasn't inclined to gay sex, and I could see that it tool a toll on him to engage into it that night, no matter how hard he tried act like he was looking forward to it. He also had let me understand at some point that never before he had experienced physical intimacy with another man.
 
" Oh really?" he said, with a look of surprise. Then he looked back at his brandished biceps, that he had kept flexed all along. "Then I can't wait for it to happen. See?" He flexed the biceps a little bit harder, causing more striations to appear and veins standing out."I clearly have made some significant gains already."
 
Had he? Well it was hard for me to confirm that. Maybe he was delusional, but at the same time nobody knew his body as well as he did. When muscles attain that kind of size, it's hard to tell if they've added or lost a few inches. Like comparing the size of two planets when looking in the sky.
 
He let down the arm to let his index finger running down my cheek.
 
"Can't you tell, really?"
 
Then a bulb lit up in my mind. I had come to believe that his metabolism had a bizarre reaction, when he was up close with a person who displayed a great deal of love and lust and admiration for him. Like his muscles got somehow fueled on that. Or rather, as if it gave him rushes of satisfaction and some bodily fluids that fueled his muscles. I was convinced it was what had happened during the episode with the young hotel employee in that corridor on the upper floor, an intense encounter, charged with violent outbursts of adoration and desire from the poor, helpless lad.
 
And who could better provide this kind of energy to a bodybuilder so outrageously muscular but some gay, muscle-loving man? Could my passion have, during our intercourse, helped his muscles to grow? Even not by much, after all I had been nowhere near as hysterical and demonstrative as the groom guy had been.
 
It that was the case, it would add another dimension to this whole experiment.
 
" You don't see any improvement in my muscularity do you?
 
- I'm just... I don't know...
 
- Then there is something else you might not believe neither."
 
He slightly rolled his body on the bed to get his face closer to mine closer to me, and said :
 
" I really, really enjoyed making love to you. I never would have thought I would, but when my flow started rolling, it was absolutely fantastic." Pause. " Best sex I've ever had, bar none."
 
As he deeply kissed me at that moment, his hand was inches away from grabbing my cock, but then he regained some composure and got out of bed.
 
" OK we have no time to lose my Jeff, let's get out of here. We'll have breakfast at the terminal."
 
I had three text messages on my phone already.
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  • 1 month later...
  • 2 weeks later...

Another quick one...

==================
 
Walking through the airport with Michael was nothing short of fantastic.
 
I know, I had traveled with Sergei on my way to the competition, and I really had enjoyed it a lot, but this time it was even better.
 
Sergei hated people, he was proud yet annoyed by the attention, and looking angry all the time. Wearing loose clothes, walking fast, staring at the ground in front of him. Save for the few moments he felt like showing off, but then again, maybe he was just giving people what they want only to calm them down and get over with it.
 
With Michael it was completely different. The airport was a lot less busy as it was still early in the morning. We weren't in a hurry at all - in fact, it occurred to me right then that we hadn't even discussed about our destination.
 
So, we strolled slowly around the place, relieved to have fled the hotel without any incident, and confident that Sergei would certainly fall for the false lead we had left for him at the front desk.
 
And Michael, Michael was oh-so-happy to be looked at. He strutted gracefully, like he does on stage, or whenever he walks anyway, standing straight and wide yet looking cool and relaxed.
 
He was dressed to kill. Sturdy boots, making his huge feet look even more imposing; a pair of worn-out jeans, with convenient rips over his quads and calves, so they had a nice cut but he could fit in it.
 
He didn't wear a belt, so the jeans were hanging a bit low, their position secured by the bulbous dynamism of his gluteus. You could plainly see the birth of these glorious beauties exposed down his back, along with a moist, devilishly sensual hint of the crack that separated them. In the front, his waistline was also showing some skin, a bit of his lower abs of course, but the feature that really stood out in this frame, was the size and definition of his lower obliques, looking like an extra set of abs, surrounded by oblique striations on each side that seemed to be pointing to his crotch.
 
On his torso, he wore a sleeveless vest. A golden shiny vest that looked very small on him, vastly open on the full width of his chest. There was no way that vest could have ever been buttoned up : each side of the vest couldn't even cover the thickness of each pectoral muscle.
 
Under the vest, he had a shirt on, though nobody would call it a shirt. It was a tank top. A stringer, even, the connoisseur might add.
 
Good question, it is called a stringer because it is more like a pair of strings hanging from the shoulders, just after the traps, running down the chest, joining on the back, then all three ends of string - two in the front, one in the back - are linked to a symbolic piece of fabric that goes around the man's midsection. His stringer was bright red.
 
Oh no, you are right, it hides absolutely nothing, quite the opposite. To put it simple, you see the string that strippers have as underwear? It isn't designed to hide anything at all, isn't it? Its purpose is to disappear into the ass, to make that major sexual organ even more appealing, right? It's purpose is to fit the genitals as snugly as possible, to underline the sexual organs while leaving nothing to the imagination? The string is designed to sublimate the most sexual parts to make them even sexier, to trigger the highest level of arousal, to provoke raging urges of lust.
 
That is exactly what a stringer shirt does for a bodybuilder, but with the major sexual organs that are the muscles of his chest.
 
Every now and then, he would stop and take off his sunglasses like he had to think about something or read a sign, when it was just a ruse as he puts on his smile and gives a circular stare around, making a shootout with his deadly blue eyes and devastating beauty, causing a carnage among the unsuspecting bystanders.
 
" So where do you live? Is there an airline you prefer?" He asked me.
 
" But... I'm not sure. My place is rather small, I don't think I can accommodate you...
 
- Hum. My place would do, but as I dumped my wife yesterday, she's probably packing her stuff. Or waiting for me with an assault rifle. In any case, I can do without the drama.
 
- So...
 
- That leaves us the rest of the world! Where do you wanna go, honey?
 
- Er, I don't have much money, neither."
 
He laughed heartily. " Don't you worry, the stay is on me.
 
- Are you sure?
 
- Absolutely, I have some, and I will get plenty more in a near future.
 
- Yes, if we are successful at ultrasizing your muscles, and you become the most extremely muscular bodybuilder ever, you will make tons of money.
 
- Even sooner, my wife is from a very wealthy family, and I will get half of everything she owns.
 
- She didn't ask for a prenup? And it was you who dumped her, you won't get a dime anyway.
 
- Hehe, little man, I did make her sign a prenup, but not the usual kind of prenup! It states that whatever the cause of our separation, I still get half the money!
 
- Really? What made her agree to something like that?"
 
Michael smiled broadly down at me, marking a pause for better effect, then solemnly brought up his arms while looking at the left one, then brutally flexed the biceps, which swelled and rose high up until they couldn't as they had turned to steel.
 
" I guess she was ready for anything to get a hold on these delicious beauties!"
 
And then he proceeded to passionately kiss one, then the other, giving them a few licks along the way. Right in the middle of the terminal, for everybody to see, and it lasted for, maybe ten seconds.
 
Smiling back at me.
 
" How hard are you right now my dear Jeff?
 
- I don't know. But it kinda hurts.
 
- Good. Let's grab tickets for... I don't know... Maldives?
 
- As you want. Never been there.
 
- Oh, better! Ever been to India?
 
- Neither.
 
- We have to go there. In India, the guys absolutely go nuts over muscle. It's a riot anywhere I go. Wanna try that?
 
- Could be fun.
 
- It can get tiring but we'll move someplace else then. Let's go."
 
He bought our tickets, we registered our luggage, and all there was left to do was finding our gate.
 
Michael grabbed my hand, and kept it in his all the way.
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  • 4 weeks later...
On the plane, the fun didn't stop.
 
They removed two armrests so Michael could be at ease across three seats. I was seated on his right, the seat on his left was empty, we had a whole middle row for the two of us. The first row in the front, so he could have enough room for his legs.
 
As soon as we were seated, Michael asked me to help him taking off his shirt. The other passengers boarded with the sight of his spectacular, colossal bare chest in all its splendor, with mixed reactions. We pretended not to notice nor care as we were discussing.
 
The plane took off.
 
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we will arrive to destination at the scheduled time, our altitude and the outside temperature are irrelevant I just learned that we have the honor and privilege to have the one and only Mr Michael Masfield on this flight! This is an immense joy for me, as Mr Masfield is the greatest bodybuilder who ever lived, and I have utmost respect and admiration for this beautiful and powerful man. Please salute and applaud this fantastic athlete as he deserves to be. Thank you Mr Masfield."
 
Michael, smiling from ear to ear, stood up as much as he could, tried to turn around to face the other passengers behind us and lifted his arms just high enough to display a descent flex of his biceps, so everyone could appreciate how even more expanded and striated he could make them.
 
Not everybody applauded, but some sure feverishly did.
 
During the flight, people went to and from the bathroom continuously, and it was easy to spot those who were enthralled and amazed by the incredible display of bare overblown muscle spread across our row, guys of all shapes and ages sweating bullets and shaking all over, impressed and shocked to be not just in the presence of, but so close to a superhuman bodybuilder and his mountain of muscles.
 
Michael was of course relishing the situation, as so many people, who never would have dared to approach him in normal circumstances, were seizing the opportunity to feast their eyes on his lavish muscular magnificence.
 
Obviously a lot of users felt the need for sexual relief once in the bathroom, staying longer than they normally would have. Also, a handful of them, the most admiring and adoring ones, were so spellbound by the astounding hyper development of Michael's majestic muscularity, that they couldn't help getting back in line again and again.
 
So, very soon, a queue formed to the toilets. Soon, the smell of semen reached the front rows. At some point I had to go to the bathroom too, I went to the ones at the back of the plane, which were unoccupied.
 
Every now and then, one found the nerve to dare saying something to the bodybuilder, while standing waiting close to him. Stupid old jokes about his size, mostly. Some appreciative comments, with various degrees of subtlety. A couple of remarks under the breath. And also, a few occurrences of random, improbable, almost nonsensical sentences or questions - typically from the always-queuing guys, who have passed by Micheal several times without finding the guts to say anything to him, and when they finally do, their brains just burst. 
 
I recall an especially funny one, the guy had been to the bathroom I don't know how many times, a tall, scrawny twenty-ish guy, livid, with a blank stare behind his thick glasses. It was hard not to notice him, as he seemed oblivious to the fact that he was sporting a raging hardon as he was standing in line. Many others were in different states of arousal, with more or less success in concealing it, but this guy had his stiff cock darting in front of him under the light fabric of his trousers. To make things worse, the kid was luridly endowed, and I'm talking major-porn-star-freak endowed.
 
Also, his equipment was certainly very efficient, as every time he left the bathroom, after a good moment spent there, he was almost soft down there, yet minutes later back in the line he was at full mast again.
 
So, once again I saw that guy advance by us - I mean I saw his member appearing behind Michael's chest on my left, then the rest of him, but I knew this time would be different, as I could have sworn that the über-penis was even more erect than the other times.
 
And indeed, the tall nerd turned towards us - or towards Michael rather - with his shaft menacingly floating inches above Michael's pecs. I looked at his face, it was greyish-green, covered in sweat, his jaw was trembling, his body shaking. He looked like he was about to faint, not so surprisingly with the amount of blood that his genitals must require. He managed to say "Excuse-me Sir, what..." as his brains were about to fall apart.
 
Michael turned his head and looked up at him to let his blue eyes finish the job.
 
The kid lost it, and went
 
"What... what time is it?"
 
I let out a smile, and I knew Michael was smiling too.
 
Then Michael said
 
"I'm surprised you're asking me that." Then he lifted his right hand, index finger pointing up. Using the rotation of his wrist, in order to make his biceps muscle jump up and down, he gently tapped the tip of his finger on tip of the lad's monster cock "I thought you were a human sundial." and the eruption of jizz from the kid fired like a cannonball. It made the front of his pants violently pop even further, the zipper stood the strain but seams of his pants cracked elsewhere probably at the scrotum. The kid fainted, the big stain on his crotch spreading rapidly, and though his member softened his deformed trousers were still forming a tent.
 
He was carried to the nearest seat, as they announced we were about to land and the "fasten seatbelt" signs lit up.
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  • 2 weeks later...
 
Logically, we would wait for everybody to clear the plane so we would be getting off last. Thankfully the überschlong kid didn't require any medical assistance and was able to walk to the exit on his own, but still, the whole process took an unusually long time.
 
They reason why was that many passengers who hadn't dared approaching Michael earlier during the flight seized that last opportunity to give him a compliment and/or cope a feel of his arm, some even wanted to shake hands with him. We heard a couple of derogatory remarks thrown along the way, in a cowardly and unassuming manner.
 
When they all had left, I let out a loud sigh. This whole flight, especially at the end, had turned into an exhausting and annoying experience.
 
" Some peace at least. Michael, I really don't know how you kept your calm all this time with all these buggers...
 
- Four, five... Oh wait there's more deeper... Eight... Nine!
 
- What?"
 
Michael held little pieces of paper in his hand he had collected around and on himself, especially in his cleavage. He had a childish, joyful look on his face. Like a kid after Easter egg hunt.
 
" Nine little notes they dropped for me on the way out! Let me see. Phone number, phone number, phone number, oh, 'I want to be your slave', with a phone number...
 
- So aren't you pissed off with all these retards bothering you the whole flight? That was... disrespectful, obnoxious.
 
- Wait, there's worse. See the side of my arm? The shiny and sticky blotches. Two guys plastered me with their sperm as they patted me on the way out.
 
- Whaa ?! That's gross! And you think it's funny!
 
- Maybe not 'funny', but I don't see the point in getting angry about it. I don't feel insulted, nor humiliated.
 
- But most of them treated you like you were nothing more than a pile of meat ! Even those who said nice things, they barged in without caring if you were trying to read a magazine or watching a movie nor if we were in the middle of a conversation.
 
- But what if I like it." We now were standing up and grabbing our stuff, and from above Michael was showing me a sly smile on the side of his face. "What if I like being considered as a huge pile of meat. What if I enjoy when people lose their mind and make fools of themselves in public as they are mesmerized by the immensity of my muscles.
 
- Let me help you putting your t-shirt back on, the staff must be waiting for us to clear off."
 
Making that shirt fit hasn't been an easy task. Did he grow during the flight? All that attention he got must have made him swell a little. Not as much the bell boy episode had, at the hotel. Way less. But his encounter with the bell boy had been a lot more... violent. Michael hadn't laid a finger on that bell boy during their encounter in the corridor, but he had fully unleashed his dominating and overpowering side all over that kid. So, apparently, it wasn't so much the admiration that could cause temporary outbursts of his muscular mass, as it was his own indulgence in heaping a sadistic exhibition of his physical power and superiority on his prey. Just a theory. The scientist in me willing to experiment. 
 
We went walking up the business class.
 
" Don't you love the fact that your man is so insanely hot that he ignites rushes of lust and desire intense enough to make people loose their fucking mind everywhere he goes?"
 
I didn't answer to that. I was expecting to see the hostesses near the exit door of the plane, at least some of them, but no. But... looks like there is a little man there instead. I could only see the top of his head, with short black curly hair.
 
Once I got close enough it all made sense. No, it didn't really make any sense really, but I got the picture.
 
It wasn't a little man but the captain of the plane. He had one knee on the floor, and was holding his cap in his hands. I couldn't see his face as he was looking down. I moved to the right so Michael, who was behind me, could stand in front of him. He was as surprised as I was.
 
" Greetings Mr Masfield, and to your companion, too." Ah, for once someone acknowledged my existence, a good point for him. " Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Captain Henry Lowell. I had the honor to be your pilot for this flight, and I hope it has been pleasant for you.
 
- Well, Captain, that was... OK... glad to meet you, this is Mr Matthews here with me, I guess I don't have to introduce myself...
 
- You certainly don't Mr Masfield, I am a great fan of yours, and I have the deepest respect and admiration for your career and your incredible feats. To me you are and always will be the greatest bodybuilder who has ever been, not only because of your incredibly huge muscles and magnificent physique, but also because of your famously kind and wise personality.
 
- So very nice of you to say Mr Lowell. But please stand up, let me shake your hand."
 
The captain stood up, and he wasn't small at all. Very slender, elegant, and handsome to boot. His face had classic lines, like some Greek statue. He was obviously crying.
 
" What an honor, Mr Masfield. I had never dared dreaming to meet you in person some day, and now I'm talking to you... I'm in heaven, really. Thank you so much. And I am pleased to meet you also, nonetheless, Mr Matthews. You must be a fantastic individual to be a friend of Mr Masfield.
 
- Glad to meet you, Captain.
 
- Well, Mr Masfield, Mr Matthews, I will not waste more of your precious time. If I could just take a picture with you, and maybe request your autograph... "
 
Lowell handed me his phone and I took a few shots. Again, his erection was fairly obvious, I didn't bother keeping it out of the frame.
 
I gave him his phone back, then he grabbed his wallet, and took a large card out of it, and held it to his hero with a pen. It was a photography of Michael for him to sign, of course. I looked at the picture as he scribbled his name on it. A glossy print, religiously kept in that wallet, yet quite worn on the corners. The picture showed Michael in all his muscular glory, shredded as hell, veins pulsating all over his glistening bulges of pumped muscle galore, tanned to a crisp from head to toe, an electric blue strip of cloth running down the middle of his cock, his eyes matching the color and his trademark devastating smile. Only, he wasn't on the stage of a competition he won, but lying on his side, relaxed, along the edge of a pool.
 
We said goodbye, and as the Captain had been nice and polite, before we left for the terminal Michael told him to come closer with a gesture of his hand. He hugged the man's body strongly, waiting for the sequence of distinctive spasms that was bound to happen, which did a few seconds later, and off we went.
 
After a dozen steps I stopped abruptly, so Michael stopped too, then I turned around.
 
" Captain Lowell?" I asked.
 
Still dizzy, barely standing on his feet, the man looked at me.
 
" Yes Sir?
 
- I wondered if you had an accommodation to suggest. And also a fine place to eat, we are starving. A quiet place, very quiet.
 
- Well... I am staying at the airport's Hilton, I am sure I can get you a nice room there for tonight, at no cost, I am a regular customer. And if you allow me, I would be absolutely delighted to invite you in my suite for dinner, room service will bring you anything you like.
 
- What do you think, Michael?
 
- It is quite late already, sure, why not.
 
- Wonderful ! Can we meet in the hotel's lobby in, er, forty minutes?
 
- We will be there, Captain.
 
- Fantastic ! Oh my... I will take care of everything, you don't have to worry. I am sure we will have a wonderful evening!"
 
Yeah, whatever. Me, I have a theory to put to the test.
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Wow!!! I can’t believe I didn’t stumble on this story before, read all your chapters it is absolute mind blowing! 
 

awesome work, looking forward to reading the next big(get) chapters, your writing is brilliant!

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