Two Little Words

Two Little Words

When I’d wished to be a muscle bull, that fucking genie totally screwed me over.  Yeah, you’re looking at me now and thinking, dude, what part of your wish came out wrong but seriously man, he fucked my whole life up.

I know you’re enjoying watching me posing and showing of my gains but this isn’t me, I never wanted to be this way.  Fuck yeah, look at that most muscular.  See that striation in my delts, that’s years of work bro.  Thousands of hours, thousands of fucking hours pounding out the reps when I should have been at work, looking after my family, living my fucking life!

You don’t get it do you?  You think that twisted fuck granted my wish?  Fuck man, he totally ruined my entire. Fucking. Life.

He didn’t just GIVE me the body I wanted, he made me WORK for it.  The second I’d made the wish, my whole life was gone.  Wife, kids,  gone like they never fucking existed.  House?  Job?  Gone too.  One moment, I was a successful lawyer wish a fancy house in the ‘burbs, the next, I’m shacked up with some meathead fitness instructor who turns out to be my new co-worker at Pete’s Powerhouse.

From then on, I’m like a passenger in my body.  Eat.  Sleep.  Lift.  Repeat.  If I never see a chicken breast again, it’ll be too soon but I don’t got a choice now.  Macros and fluids, sleep, ‘roids and lifting.  What kind of life is that? You think this is funny?  Fuck you man, I thought I could trust you.  No, don’t turn away, fucking look at me.  LOOK AT ME!  Look what that psycho did to me. I used to be successful, I had a life.  Now look at me.  Yeah, bro check out this beef.  You want this?  You want to be like me?  Fuck, you ain’t got a clue. Imagine only being in control in the intervals when your own fucking body isn’t betraying you as it turns itself into a professional bodybuilder.  Imagine inhabiting this body, the body of a fucking god and never being able to stay up past nine, never jerk off, never touch a beer or taste a slice of pizza.  Never have sex.

Oh, you get it now don’t you?  Yeah, that fucker granted my wish but the catch was that he’d give me the body I wanted the same way all those other meatheads get it only with no let up, not a moment slacking off.  Blood, sweat and tears?  Well I’ve shed enough of those.  You see, I made a deal: give the genie another victim and I’d be free.  Yeah, one more wish, a freebie if you like, and we’ll both get what we want – I’ll be free and he’ll have a new challenge. You’ve guessed by now of course ain'tcha?  You’re next.  Yeah, in a moment, I’ll be free to enjoy the body I worked so hard for and my first fuck in, what six years?  Yeah, six years of blue balls.  Even with my roid shrivelled nuts, I should be able to pump a good load of my muscle bull cream into your ass.

Heh, you might not like the sound of it now but ol genie here can help with that.  No, you can’t see him.  But I can.  He’s pretty hot, but not really my type.  Too lean for one thing.  Yeah, six years living and breathing muscle has changed my tastes.  Meat, that’s what does it for me now – or should I say meatheads.  Fuck yeah.  Man, I can’t wait to see your face once the HGH has got at it and your swollen roid gut’s pushing out against your lifting belt.  You’ll look hot as fuck in a stringer tank and high tops too.

You don’t believe me?  Don’t think I can make it happen?  Well maybe not but I know someone who can and all it takes is two little words: I wish…

I could maybe use your help! I found some app online that allows me to swap traits or attributes with people and I've been spending the last day going around my local gym swapping parts of myself with random guys - my biceps, my legs, my chest, even my hair and my height. I didn't realise that as well as the trait I've selected from each person, the app randomly chooses an additional random trait to swap the following day! I must have swapped stuff with like five or six guys, so worried I'm going to wake up with a bunch of random traits! Can you help?

Just as a reminder to everyone, please read the fine print before getting involved with something like this! Those EULAs can contain anything these days. You probably didn’t even realise that the app can swap traits other than physical ones.

I’m not tech support or anything, but I can at least help you reconstruct the changes that are going to happen. How about this: I’ll use my powers to make sure that you’re happy however you end up, okay?

Swap One: Attitude

Seems like whoever you swapped biceps with was sort of a swaggering asshole. I bet he’ll be better off with your old meek attitude. And with your big body, this douchey vibe will work even better.

Swap Two: Intellect

Those legs? That guy did legs every day because he couldn’t remember more than one workout split. You’re still smarter than a fifth grader, but it’s uncomfortably close. No more reading classics for you, but the guy you swapped your legs from now has the intelligence to build an even bigger body.

Swap Three: Career

You thought that you’d swapped your handsome, manly face from a male model, but that was all a cover. In fact, that guy ran an OnlyFans for his primary income. With your new body, you make way more money than he did, though.

Swap Four: Kinks

The hair came from a guy who was into body hair, sure, but you’re also about to find yourself with a love for a tight pair of briefs. They show off your dick perfectly, and once you’ve worn them for a few days they build up a really sexy smell.

Swap Five: Hygiene

Speaking of which, the guy you swapped heights with happened to be a total stink pig. You’d had a hard time getting close enough to him to activate the swap, he smelled so strong. Well, he’ll be showering more, but you might not even wash once a week from now on. Trust me, your fans will love it, and they’ll probably even pay you for your used briefs after you really grind your smell into them.

Well, with my guidance, things seem to have gone pretty much perfectly! Hope you enjoy your new life! Please remember to properly subscribe and read the fine print next time you see a magical app that’s too good to be true. Well, if you can even read technical language anymore.

Listen Up: All-American

Oliver was stressed. The rent on his cramped London studio was a lot, and he couldn’t work enough to cover his costs while completing his studies. His work toward a law degree produced enough mental anguish on its own.

He’d seen the mindfulness CD atop a pile of various used items at an odd store - which seemed to stock all manner of things new, used and downright weird.

For obvious reasons, the record was alluring to Oliver. Anything that might lower the mental burden was an option worth trying. So when the handsome proprietor offered him the disc for less than a quid he couldn’t say no.

The drive buzzed on his desk as the contents were ripped to his computer after a late, stressful night of study. Oliver sat back in his desk chair placed the wireless headphones over his mousy brown hair and opened the resulting file that appeared on his desktop.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you…”, a deep, manly voice read. Custom designed? The words made Oliver raise an eyebrow in suspicion. “What a load of bullshit", he thought.

“Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed… You feel calm. Tranquility and stillness.”

The deep, commanding - and almost erotic voice - continued onward. Suddenly, Oliver felt awash with relaxation.

“Relax, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Focus your concentration on your top of your head, moving down slowly down the tips of your toes. Take in your body.”

Oliver unwittingly obeyed. His eyes shut and, taking a deep breath, he focused on the position of his body in space.

“This… actually isn’t too bad”, he admitted to himself.

“Empty your mind. Focus on the tingling across your skin. A pleasant warmth filling you up.”

Oliver was less impressed about the direction this was going now, was this going to turn into some erotic thing? But, suddenly, he did fill awash with warmth and tingling. Like a hot bath. He was surprised, no calmness app or anything similar had ever achieved this effect with him.

“Focus harder on that warmth and tingle. Make it stronger.”

Oliver sighed, feeling the pleasant sensations fill him up entirely.

“Stronger. Stronger. Stronger.”

The sensations intensified more and more; and although he felt good all over, in his head he began to panic. And so, he fumbled to stop the playback.

“Keep listening, Oliver. I guarantee you’ll like what you’re going to hear.”

Oliver’s eyes widened in fear, did the voice just use his name? Was it aware he tried to stop the playback? Surely this was just a co-incidence in the script?

But Oliver realized it was no coincidence when he became unable to click pause, his finger repelling like a magnet from the trackpad.

“You’re gonna to become a real man, Oliver. Like you’ve always wanted. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

“Ungh… What the f- fuck?!”, Oliver whimpered. The unbearable heat and tingling sensations intensified. Whimpers turned to loud moans as pleasure and testosterone flooded his body, his cock filled with blood and hardened in his tight jeans.

“A real man has huge, muscular arms. Much like you do, Oliver.”

Oliver let out a groan as his upper arms began to match the spoken words and expand. His slim t-shirt’s sleeves strained as muscles began to appear under the skinny arms. They throbbed and wriggled, expanding larger and larger, thicker and thicker.

“Your arms are fucking huge. Every part of them.”

Oliver bit his lip and whimpered as he flexed. The thin twigs that were his upper arms surged and tore the sleeves of the shirt. Individual muscles squirmed and bulged as they reformed large and powerful. His forearms pulsed and ached as they too inflated with muscle. Veins protruded and snaked across the swelling muscle. These arms were huge, muscular machines designed for the gym.

“You’re tall…”

Energy rushed through his body in response to the words, but technically Oliver had always been a relatively tall and lanky 6′0″. So, nothing happened. It was if the recording was teasing him.

“P- please… more…”, Oliver begged. Resisting was never an option to begin with, but Oliver needed no orders to desire what was happening to him. His new arms were a taste of the masculinity he’d always desired, and it felt better than he could have imagined.

“…Really tall…”

“Oh fuuuuuuck yeeeeaaah!”, Oliver yelled. His cock throbbed in his denim while his entire body seared with the bliss of growth. His back pushed up higher and his legs stretched longer out from the chair. The muscular arms elongated as well to keep up, more muscle packing in order to to maintain their size.

“How do you manage to type on this thing with those massive paws?”

“Ahhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!”, cracks and pops filled the air as Oliver held out his aching, pulsating hands. His skinny fingers twitched vigorously as they pushed longer and thicker. His palms were being tugged in all directions, stretching further and further outward. The ends of his fingers creaked as they reshaped, the chewed nails regrowing, broadening and elongating. These were indeed a real man’s hands.

“Your chest is fucking ripped. Powerful pecs. Bulging abs. Manly hair.”

Oliver bit down hard. But as his chest and shoulders swelled in every direction, he couldn’t hold it and let out a long whine. Muscle wrapped around the widening shoulders connecting with the stunning biceps. Growth flowed downward, forcing two huge slabs of muscle to grow out of his flat, bony chest. The tightest abs Oliver had ever seen exploded out from below his thick, tight pecs. His cock pulsed as he rubbed the rippling abs. He could feel a treasure trail forming and hair flourishing across the beautiful pecs. His cock tingled as his waist pulsed. Tight cum gutters formed below the glistening abs, leading down to his aching erection.

“Don’t forget your back.”

Oliver hunched forward as the muscle growth swept from his massive shoulders and chest across his back. His bony back rippled and bulged as sinew and muscle swelled.

“Everything about your legs screams power and masculinity. With an ass to match.”

Oliver’s kicked and twisted his legs feeling his thighs balloon with new and growing muscle. The skinny jeans began tearing and splitting at the seams as more and more muscle forced its way outward. His calves did the same, stuffing themselves with more and more power, stretching the fabric to breaking to point. Every muscle in his legs contracted as it swelled and grew. Oliver flexed the legs causing a final burst of growth and shredded the tattered jeans and underwear from his body. His flat ass, now free from its confines, began to inflate dramatically, pushing him upward in his seat. 

“Size 13s must be hard to find…”

He clenched his mouth shut, muffling a cry as snaps and crackles emanated from the socked feet. His fairly average UK size 9s burned with pressure as the socks began to stretch in an attempt to contain the growing feet. Oliver pressed his feet hard into the floor feeling the soles soaring across the carpet. The toes curled and gripped further and further, lengthening and thickening into 10s, then 11s, 12s… The sound of a tear was met with a moan as unbelievably long, thick, masculine toes jutted through the ends of the socks leaving him with UK size 13s.

“You’re such a looker, Olly.”

Oliver knew what this meant and trembled as he opened the webcam app on his laptop, watching in shock and pure desire at the image of his face moving and shifting. His neck bulged and swelled, the grunts coming from his throat deepening. 

His narrow, oval face stretched and snapped wider and longer, enlarging to fit the upper body he now possessed. Oliver rubbed his hard cock as his face began to look more and more masculine. A wide, thick jaw formed where before there was barely one at all. His lips inflated, his nose enlarged and his brow deepened. His hair darkened as it grew out, straightened and flopped messily across the headphones.

“I look… ungh… like a jock!”, Oliver gawked, turned on by his unbelievably hot new visage.

As he muttered those words he gasped repeatedly. Insatiable lust overtook him at watching his gorgeous, masculine face moan. His rigid erection ached and drooled at the sight.

“That cock is just like the rest of you. Oversized.”

Oliver stumbled upright and planted his hands on the desk and began to thrust across the table top as the 5 inch cock commenced its expansion. The continuous ecstasy that had been tearing through him since this started concentrated into his swelling dick.

Oliver’s screams of delight could have woken the dead. He bucked and thrust violently, shaking the desk as the rock hard rod swelled with girth and pushed outward longer and longer.

“You’re a real fuckin’ man. That cock’s designed for topping.”

Thoughts of working out, sports and fucking tight jock asses overwrote the introverted bottom’s personality.

“Not just a real man. You’re an all-American jock.”

Oliver spluttered as his British accent shifted to a distinctly American one. Memories of coming to London for exchange replaced his own. With a blinding flash of ecstasy, his foreskin merged with the now 7 inch shaft, giving Oliver the big, cut, all-American cock he’d always admired.

“Mmmmmphhh… Fuck, yeah dude! I’m… arrruuughh… a fuckin’ jock!”

The shaft surged longer and wider. The head of the oozing cock fattened, expanded and flared outward. A massive, drooling mushroom head formed at the end of the 8 inch dick.

The sweating, horny jock was but a second away from release, worshiping his own body and tightly, furiously stroking his cock. But the audio interrupted…

“I bet those 10 inches are popular online.”

Oliver howled as his encroaching orgasm was prevented. The blissful build up rushed back into his cock as it shot forward in seconds to an enormous, veiny 10 inches. He recalled making good money selling pictures and videos of his hot body and huge dick.

The stud gripped his thick python tight in his meaty hand and stroked fast. The voice on the audio track began to tease Oliver even more than it had been.

“You’re a real man.”

“Huhhh… unnnghhh.. yeah… I am!”

“You’re a fucking alpha.”

“Hnnnnggghh, fuck yeah!”

“Cum, stud.”

With a delightful roar, the beautiful, cut pole shot cum like a hose across his the desk, the wall and over the floor. Then again. And again. And after what felt like an eternity, the muscle stud’s orgasms slowed.

“Remember to share this recording with your friends…”

And on that command, the track ended. Oliver grabbed his phone, his huge hands dwarfing the device as he snapped a photo of his cock and incredible body to post later for his adoring online fans.

Now all the jockified Oliver needed was bros - and with the audiobook he knew exactly how to get them. But who to share it with first? Old friends, a few dedicated online fans maybe…

The scary thing: my fantasy is coming true.  I find it harder to write, to push through that initial block, my brain isn’t as right-there as it used to be. 

Now there’s a layer of body awareness that I never had before that gets in the way, feeling the tiny tremors racing just underneath my senses, my body’s fibers having been stretched out and torn and re-supplemented.  A whole cascading network of failures and subsequent re-structurings.  If I pay close attention, I can feel the entire foundation of my body straining, sore, vibrating with exertion.  Certain movements, back, forth, standing up, pushing through an already sore muscle, are constant triggers of the activity that caused it.  I, for a second, return to the moment when the muscle tore, the exercise I was struggling through.

I have, in other words, learned to ignore my mind, and as a result, it is less available to me when I need it.  My body is slowly taking over.  Instead of listening to my brain when it screams STOP after 8 reps, but I grit my teeth and shove through another 7. 

Casual conversations almost always include the gym.  “Any plans for your Wednesday?” asks the checkout clerk at the grocery store, where I am purchasing something huge with insane protein. 

“I just got done at the gym,” I say, even though it’s got to be obvious from the way I am dressed and slightly flushed and a little bit exultant.  It’s hard to hide the pride in my voice.  A dim, far-off part of me wants to flex as punctuation.  “So I am gonna go home and mow this burrito down and have my shake and then maybe go for a bike ride.”  I talk almost thoughtfully, as though considering the whole range of physical activity available to me.  Gotta get swole, my internal voice adds.  Swole for summer, swole for the beach.  Sun’s out guns out, hahaha.

My trainer laughs and says things like, “Soon you’ll have to get one of those tanks that say I Flexed and the Sleeves Fell Off or Welcome to the Gun Show!”  He’s joking, of course, but inside I’m thinking Fuck yeah.  He of course doesn’t know that one has already been ordered and I’m just waiting for the right time to wear it out in public.

Seems like I’m almost always talking about the gym.  A co-worker the other day said, seeing me out of work clothes and in basketball shorts and Nikes (the black and volt yellow trainers) “Of course you were at the gym.  That’s the only thing you do outside of work.”  And there’s that swelling sensation again, something inside that wants to flex and chant about being swole and it’s kind of hilarious, so I laugh a little bit, and it comes out strange, a kind of chuckle but like, a grunting?  Like a huh-huh-huh kinda laugh.  Weird.  Brush it off and head on home to make the shake and rest up for leg day.

Leg day is brutal, and just like everyone else you see on Instagram and Facebook and whatever, I talk about leg day all the time.  I walk a little funny, probably exaggerate it a little bit, say “Oh, fuck, yeah, yesterday was leg day and I am feelin it today, bro.”  The bro just kinda slips in there, sometimes I slip it in there once in awhile, and I can’t tell if I’m doing it on purpose or if it’s happening because it wants to, like the internal voice is kinda taking over.  Gettin swole.  And it’s been about four months since I started and shit is happening, for real, and it’s kinda weird, but it’s also sorta what I wanted when I started, too.  At first. 

I mean, no one wants to be dumb, not really, no, not even you, and you sometimes entertain the possibility that you might be kinda dumb already, because there’s always somebody smarter than you, you just haven’t met them yet, and that’s enough to kind of, trip your brain up, you know, kinda, shove it down flat and knock the air out of it.  And while it’s getting back up, wheezing, you can’t remember if its its or it’s and that’s kinda hot but also a little odd and makes you panicky … but if you just exhale, just take a deep sigh, what was it again you were focusing on?  If I try to focus, the first thing I feel is the aches of my muscles re-assembling themselves, building like stormclouds under my skin, and the little thunders of aches when I move from sitting to standing. 

So it’s hard to write about this because it’s just that my brain is becoming another muscle, but not one that I’ve been working out alot.  Tripped myself up there.  Kinda tired cuz I pushed real hard today at the gym and ate a bunch of food.  Body wants to rest, brain thinking doing too much energy from body and muscles are more importanter than thinking maybe Ill jerk off real quick and take a nap and let my muscles grow more yeah that’s a good idea just breathing easier and letting mu muscles grow more cuz gotta get swole gotta get big thats right get swole ….

Simon here tried a very specific blend of JockJo coffee. He started with a small cup each day, but the rush of our brews can be addictive and those cups just got bigger and more frequent as the week went on just like his body, cock, and attitude. Didn’t take long for the timid bookworm to become the cocky dumb alpha you see here. What will a cup of JockJo do for you?

Winding down with a massage sounds like a great idea, especially after a long week at work. All the constant sitting does no good to my back. Not to mention my shoulders are stiff like a rock. Almost on cue, my Facebook feed is flooded with perfectly timed sponsored ads of a new massage parlour not too far from where I am now. “Numan?” That’s a percukiar name for a massage parlour. I may not be interested then, and now I am looking up at the reviews and the opening hours for the place. Well, you definitely got me at “feeling like a new man”, once I’m done with the intense massage therapy. It would cost me a steep hundred dollar, but heck - this is what I need now. So, I called them up and made an appointment for 8pm.

The weather was a little chilly, I was trying my best to get to the place as soon as possible. Anticipating for the worst, but traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it would. Why didn’t I grab that sandwich before I leave the area? My stomach is grumbling, but I guess that has to wait. I walked into the massage parlour at 7.40pm thinking that it would be too early to start my session, but the receptionist told me that he could get the session earlier for me. Looking over th counter, the 20-something called presumably the massuese and gestured me to go inside. “Room 3” he said. “It’s on your right.” He stood up and gave me a beaming smile. I nodded and walked into the corridor.

I thought it was polite to knock before I enter the room. But, the door slowly glides open with the slightest pressure from my hand. In this dimly lit room, there’s a man who is getting the table ready for the session. Based on quick mental judgement, he should be 165cm and probably around 65kg. He in a uniform - I assume so because it was a T-shirt that says “Numan” on it. “Hey, welcome to Numan! Is it your first time here?” He asked as he pat at the bed, motioning me to get myself propped there. “Yeah, looking to release some knots on my shoulders and back.” He nods and it seems like he probably get that a lot here.

“No worries, leave that to me.” He turns around and grabs a bottle of massage oil. “Take off your clothes and lay here.” “All of them?” “Yeah, we can work with the knots way better like that.” I reluctantly pulls off my top, I know that I need to, but part of my resist the idea - probably because I am a little self conscious about my body. All the office hours definitely are not helping me to stay in shape. I should consider myself lucky for not developing a fullblown dad bod with this job I’m stuck in.

As I lay there on the bed, I feel a warm feeling engulfing me. I have not feel so comfortable for a very long time. “Relax, let’s get started.” He started with my feet first. “How tall are you?” “Oh me? I’m around 180cm.” “Could’ve sworn you’re taller than that, you have a huge feet. These are size 12 right?” With that, he pushed his knuckle into my feet and it cracked so good. “Eh, what? Yeah, you’re right.” My mind got confused for a moment, I mean I’m size 12 right? Why would I think I’m size 9 then? I shook off the feeling and tried to forget about it.

He continued to work on my legs. It was surprisingly painful, I didn’t know those dress shoes cause so much tension on your calves. “You’re tight here too, must be from work. Do you move around a lot?” A wave of warmth enveloping me from below. Wasn’t sure if my mind is playing trick again on me, but I feel almost as though as I’m lighter, just a tad. “Yeah, I do. Better than sitting around all day, am I right?” I chuckled, trying to mask my confusion inside.

“Are you a personal trainer? I’m guessing so based on the muscle knots you developed from all the resistance training.” By then, he’s working on my quads. Like a wave, the warmth slowly radiating from my core and I feel almost as if as I’m expanding. I tried my best to keep eyes closed and pretend there’s nothing happening. “How are you so good at this?” I quickly responded to him before there’s too long of an awkward gap in between.

“You know, we meet a lot of people here. But someone as big as you, is quite a dead giveaway.” He laughed. “Come on, I’m not that big.” Because really it isn’t - 90kg with my height is average if I’m ever going to compete in a show. “How often do you work out every week?” “ I try to go 4 times a week.” “Wow, 6 times a week? Probably 2 hours per session? That’s real dedication.” The familiar warmth envelops me again and I tug the blanket on me. It almost felt like it’s a little small on me. The bed squeaks under my weight, hope it won’t fail me now. I get that a lot, broke my fair share of chairs with my 100kg worth of sheer weight.

“Not sure how you keep your waist so tight, these abs of yours are truly a washboard.” I’m proud of my size 28 waist, it accentuates my quads and back very well. His knuckles of steel worked on my back like a miracle, releasing the knots from all the deadlifts I’ve been doing day in and day out. “Your back is so wide and thick, almost too hard for me to work them in.” I intentionally flexed my lats, giving him the full scope of the challenge he asked for - all the lats pulldown and rows don’t go to waste with these sick back.

He then turned me around and worked on my shoulders as he moved upwards to the upper torso. “Bet you don’t wear sleeves anymore with these bowling balls you call shoulders.” It’s true, shirts are so irritating to wear. They almost never fit, I resolved to tanks wherever I go to, as much as possible. Or shirtless even, at the gym or at home. Nobody seems to mind, so why should I? “Never seen such thick pecs in my life, guess shirt is out of the equation too, right?” He’s right, my biggest pride is my massive pec shelves, no matter how much I train, they are always 2 steps ahead. I bounced my pecs playfully, anticipating the warmth to fill my pecs up and recede slowly.

He accidentally flicked my nipple as he moved to my neck and I jumped a little. “Sorry, didn’t know they were so sensitive, don’t worry about the mess if you do get to excited.” He apologises, and I blushed. I guess it’s on me as well, these nipples are just way too sensitive for their own good, sometimes a simple cold breeze gets the best of me too. “Don’t worry, man. It’s all good.” I feel blood starts to gush down my groin. And the warmth that I’m familiar now is coming back again. My cock hardens almost instantaneously.

There’s nowhere to hide and he definitely see it. “This happens a lot here too.” His smile reassures me and I am more relaxed now but my cock ain’t going down without a fight. “If you don’t mind me asking, how big is your cock? 10” hard?” Something in me felt a dissonance but part of me knew it was right from the beginning. “Yeah, gets bigger when I’m really excited.” “Oh, hiding a foot long salami inside?” I chuckled, because it’s true. I can almost feel my cock pushing the tent higher now, my face is probably red like crazy now.

“Naw, and you’re not shy to show it off. With a body like yours, why not?” My mind grows fuzzy for a bit, and a sense of pride fills me from within. Damn, it sure felt good to get compliments like these. Erotic, even. “You love the attention, don’t you? People eagerly wanting to worship you?” “Hell yeah, you want some of these?” I flex my biceps hard to show off my 21” guns.

“Don’t mind if I do,” He smirks and locked the door from inside. I stood up and gave him a show of a lifetime.