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worship Life at Apollo Heights


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Author's Notes:

I wrote the complete first chapter of this story a while back. I already have a good idea of where/how the story will progress, but it would be quite unlikely I will be able to write the subsequent chapters (let alone post them) any time soon. I'll definitely revisit this story and post any updates whenever I can.

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Part One


It's been a month since Joe moved into Apollo Heights, into the apartment next to mine. Our apartments are situated at the end of a quiet corridor, on the top storey of an old housing block that mostly house geriatric retirees. Apollo Heights has existed since the 60s, now in an isolated and run down part of the city. Despite its many drawbacks, I like it here. Plus, rent is cheap. I’m certain most people wouldn’t find it appealing to live here, so imagine my surprise to see another young person who would choose to live in this block like me, let alone such a massively muscled and good looking hunk. 


I was leaving my home that fateful morning Joe was moving in. I was in a rush to get to work. The moment I stepped out of my door into the tight corridor, I bumped into Joe. My face planted itself deep into Joe’s hard, round and beefy pecs. He stood towering over me, wearing an oversized white T-shirt that did nothing to hide his huge frame. The same could be said for the faded blue track pants he wore; they could barely contain the thickness of his quads. I composed myself from that embarrassing accident, only to make a fool of myself again. The thing I remembered was me trying to string both an apology and a warm friendly neighbourly greeting at the same time. Instead, all I did nervously babbling something incoherent while staring at his strong jawline. While Joe looked clearly in his early 30’s, his facial features reminded me of a classic athletic college frat boy or a high school jock. Perhaps it was due to the red baseball cap that he wore backwards. He had a stoic expression on his face; like he wasn’t fazed or concerned by what just happened. He simply responded with, “All cool, bro”, then walked right past me into his apartment. I left for work with an immense stirring in both my heart and my crotch.


Joe has been the only thing on my mind ever since. I was drawn to him. I constantly felt the impulse to interact with him and get to know him, but I was discouraged by the fearful thought that I had made a terrible first impression. Every time I run into him in the corridor, we would greet each other briefly and carry on with our day. He always kept his responses short. He had never looked or behaved in any hostile or unfriendly manner, but neither did he seem friendly or inviting. I wondered if he liked to keep to himself, or has an antisocial personality. Every interaction with Joe was confusing and difficult to read. Then again, I did see him help Mr. Carr dispose of his old refrigerator and install the new one his grandson bought him. I eavesdropped  their pleasant conversation as I stole glances at Joe. He lifted that old moldy refrigerator out of Mr. Carr’s room effortlessly. It was a breath-taking display of both his immense strength and powerful physique. Joe wore a sexy black racerback tank top then; I could see his ripped, muscular arms flex and ripple clearly under the weight of the heavy load. He lifted the refrigerator with such ease. It was pretty clear he had the strength to match his muscular appearance. Mr Carr snuck a few cheeky gropes at Joe’s exposed arms while cracking some jokes, but Joe seemed comfortable with the attention. Joe appears to enjoy the friendly chat with Mr. Carrl as well. Mr. Carr said Joe reminds him of his grandson who’s a gifted athlete in college and loves working out. Whenever Mr. Carr’s grandson visits him, he would always talk about his fitness and sporting achievements, which Mr. Carr said he could never understand but always appreciates how passionate his grandson always was. That topic seemed to strike a chord with Joe; it was the first time I saw a smile on Joe’s face. I was so jealous of that pervy old man it was unbearable. 


Every morning, without fail, I would wake up to the sounds of clanging iron plates. The wall between Joe’s apartments and mine is relatively thin, and I would always feel slight tremors underneath my feet whenever Joe drops his weights on the floor. I hardly get any opportunity to run into him in person. At sunrise, I would leave for work while he does his morning workouts at home. Late at night, he usually comes home late at night from his job while I’m dead asleep. In one of our brief interactions, Joe mentioned working a few different security jobs, ranging from building security to club bouncer. I suppose he was great at his job, given his intimidating and beastly physique. I treasured every opportunity I got to talk to him, hoping to redeem myself from that disastrous first impression. I always made sure I dropped a compliment or two about him and his physique or strength. They seemed to lift his spirits up, but I couldn’t always tell from his facial expressions. I wish I could see more than just his face light up. I wish I could see all his glorious muscles underneath his clothes, tensing and flexing, instead of fantasizing about them every night before I go to bed. 


One fateful night, at 3am, I woke up to heavy knocks on my door. The knocks were loud, clearly intended to wake me up, yet in a slow and restrained pace as if trying to remain civil and respectful. Sounds like someone was in need of help. I flipped my table lamp on and rolled out of bed. I walked across my tiny apartment to the door and was surprised to see Joe. He was holding an empty liquor bottle and he smelled heavily of alcohol. He appeared to be merely intoxicated, not drunk. His favourite red cap was still sitting snuggly backwards on his head.


“Hey Pete. Sorry to bother you, but can I crash at your place tonight? I left my keys at the club I worked at, but I can’t go back to grab them now.” Joe asked.


“Sure, Joe. Come in and make yourself at home. Did something happen at work?” 


Joe kicked his shoes off and tore away his socks. He walked to the couch in the middle of the room, took off his cap, large bomber jacket and then his shirt, throwing them on my coffee table. He slumped his shirtless, rippling muscular body into my couch. His sweaty body was clearly burning with heat and needed to cool himself off. His sweaty torso glistened under the faint lights in my room as he exhaled loudly with agonizing frustration. My heart raced at the arousing sight. I felt a rush of panic and excitement at the thought of being in the same room as Joe, the man I had been having an intense crush on for weeks. However, I was immediately reminded that he is a friend in distress and I quickly grew increasingly concerned for Joe.


“Yeah. Some stuck-up lawyer dipshit just got me fired at the club. He couldn’t handle his horny girlfriend checking me out the whole night, so he stirred up a bunch of drama at me. He got physical and made such a huge fucking scene I had to drag his ass out of the club. That stupid prick broke his own arm trying to fight me so he threatened to sue the club. Apparently the boss knew he was some big shot lawyer and the kind of trouble his lawsuits would bring, so he got scared and fired me instead. Fucking coward. That asshole made me so mad I swiped a bottle from the bar and left. I don’t think it's safe to go back there tonight to grab my stuff. I’ll probably smash the walls and possibly a few skulls for real. FUCK!” Joe threw the empty glass bottle forcefully into the nearby bin that I was surprised the bottle didn’t shatter. 


Joe was visibly boiling with rage. I guess that was why he needed to take his shirt off. His body was radiating heat from all the pent-up anger inside him. He cracked his neck and knuckles, attempting to calm himself down but that did not seem to simmer his rage at all. I poured a glass of water from my pantry and walked to him. 


“I’m sorry to hear that, Joe. Sounds like a really rough night for you."


At this point, Joe’s huge pecs were rising and falling as he heaved angrily. His nostrils flared as he tightened his grip. I handed Joe the glass of water, which he gulped down immediately and handed the empty glass back to me. Joe stood up and resumed venting his anger. 


“That rich punk actually dared to say he’s a real man and can take me down. Is he fucking blind or stupid?! Look at me! Look at this body! This is what a real man looks like! He thinks he can take on this!?” 


Joe gave his pecs a loud pound and flexed the most intense most muscular pose I’ve ever seen. Joe growled menacingly as he held the pose in front of me, his sinewy arms and solid pecs trembling and rippling. My jaw dropped at the powerful visual Joe displayed. Joe was evidently channeling all his rage and frustration into his body as his veins popped and his muscles glowed red as Joe put all his might into flexing.


Venting his rage into that most muscular pose helped Joe significantly as he relaxed his body after that spectacle. As Joe got clamer, he again turned his attention to his own body. He looked down on his torso and started running his fingers through the spaces between his cobblestone abs. Each slab was distinct and defined. He played around with his abs, relaxing and flexing slowly and repeatedly. Damn, the way he was admiring himself made me stiff instantly.


“There’s no mystery why his girlfriend wasn’t paying attention to him all night. She recognizes who the only real man in the club is, and it definitely isn’t her delusional boyfriend. I bet you understand that very well too, Pete?"


Joe’s words made me freeze in my place. My face burned as it blushed with embarrassment and my hands stiffened tightly around the empty glass. Joe cocked his head towards me, then raised his arms into a double biceps flex, rolling his biceps into huge rock hard masses and his forearms stiffened. The ambient light in my apartment bounced off the sweaty surface of his muscles, highlighting the contours and peaks of his biceps. Watching his physique blow up into a magnificent muscular mass shot waves of orgasm through my body. I sensed that Joe’s actions were highly deliberate and intended to elicit a very specific response from me. I tried to restrain myself, but my heart succumbed as I let out a yearning moan. 


Joe chuckled at my embarrassing reaction. “That’s what I thought,” he said while maintaining his flex. Seeing Joe’s cocky smirk turned me on even further. I was glad Joe was clearly feeling better, but I was still mixed with all kinds of emotions and sensations. I had no idea how to react to anything going at that precise moment. 


“Wanna to see more, Pete?” 


Joe teased as he lowered his thick arms to undo his belt. He unzipped his jeans in a slow teasing fashion and rolled them down to free his massive quads. Joe’s thighs looked bigger and wider than before, now that they were allowed to expand without the restriction of his tight jeans. Joe kicked his jeans aside the moment they reached his ankles. He then stood back up, revealing tight red underwear that looked more like a pair of bodybuilding posers. His cock was engorged and filling the red posers to its limits. Damn, even his cock is huge! 


Joe swaggered with an intensely cocky, arrogant and smug attitude towards me as he kept his eyes fixated on me. He maintained his wickedly sexy and naughty smirk while his gaze was as captivating as his presence. He walked up to me in a slow, measured pace until he was standing in front of me; so close that his pecs are now barely a few inches away from touching my face. He took the glass from my hands and put it away. 


“Do you like what you see, Pete?” Joe asked, now in a deep, seductive voice. 


I was so nervous, I could only manage a slow, simple nod. Joe reached for my trembling hands and put them slowly on his pecs. He motioned my hands to feel them as he bounced his pecs. I let out another moan as I felt the weighted masses of his pecs with every impact on my palms.


“Do you like what you feel, Pete?”, Joe asked, and again, I simply nodded, still mesmerized by his pecs. Suddenly, Joe grabbed my shoulders and in a forceful shove, I found myself kneeling in front of him. I looked up, scared and confused as Joe looked back at me.


“Now, Pete. Do you want to WORSHIP me?”, Joe asked. 


As Joe's deep and commanding voice reverberated through my entire body, I simply nodded my head.

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