Muscle Slave - Tumblr Posts

MUSCLEBOI TRAINING

By request 😉

You'd started out pretty skinny, but the gym was going well. You were getting big quick. A lot of the bigger guys who'd scared you at first were actually really cool. They'd show you a lot of good shit that helped you get gains quick. One day one even gave you a special muscle recovery balm to use on your chest. Helps promote growth. he'd said, staring at you and bouncing his big pecs. It seemed weird- you never heard of a supplement... like... that... befo.... damn... his pecs ... so fucking huge... can't stop... watching... want to... need to ... look... like... that...

He nodded as your eyes glazed over and you began putting the balm on right then and there. It made your chest tingle and pulsate a bit. He winked at you when you thanked him, flicking one of your nipples as he walked away. Damn, that felt good! Pleasure still rippled out from the spot 20 or 30 seconds after he'd walked away. Your pump felt crazy.

You got home and were about to shower when you paused in the mirror. Your chest looked… huge. And so did your arms. Your nipple was still tingling from your bud tapping it. You squinted at the mirror. The lighting must've been really good, cuz your chest looked even bigger than when you'd walked in. You took your phone out, snapping a pic- and another and another, cuz again your arms looked bigger too, like they were staying proportional with your chest. You updated your grindr profile pic with your new chest- damn that had been a good workout today- and hopped in the shower.

When you got out, you smeared a little more of the balm on your pecs, feeling the tingly sensation run over you again. You checked your phone after- you usually bottomed, but for some reason today, for the first time, you wanted to dominate someone. Sit back and let them worship you, rub your muscles and body. iIt didn't take long to find a willing volunteer- a little twink you'd found who was perfect for that. You could tell he was insecure, shy, & a little nervous around you- but those were the types who always needed a strong hand the most. His hands ran over your huge muscles and he squealed like a little bitch when you flexed, kissing and rubbing his face into them. He got kind of feral, peeling your shirt off and grabbing your huge pecs, squeezing and trubbing all over them. You howled with pleasure as his hands ran over your nipples and it felt like electricity shot from them through the rest of your body, like the most intense ecstasy you ever felt. Blood pounded in your ears, flowing into your pecs that bulged more and more each second and the rest of your body that got bigger as they did. He wrapped his pathetic tiny frame around your growing body, burying his face in your rock hard pecs. You needed him to keep worshipping them like the little bitch he was, to keep making you feel good. That was his job. To serve a muscle god like you.

"You like that, boy?" you said, your voice suddenly much deeper.

"Yes Master," he said vacantly, rubbing as much of his face into you as he could. "Can't... stop... worshipping... you're... so... strong," ge said, feeling your suddenly thick biceps, your huge lats and delts.

You gripped the back of his head with your thick, veiny arm.

"That's right boy. Now open up for Daddy," you said, moving his head to your nipple. His eyes lit up and his mouth opened as he latched onto you, sucking greedily. You shuddered and gasped, feeling your. pecs swell even faster now.

Some part of you realized now that the more he played with your tits, the bigger you got, and that that was weird-- and it probably had something to do with the balm.. but who cared, brah? You were getting bigger, dumber, hornier by the second, and had a little fag here ready to do whatever you said. You pushed his head into them, bouncing them while he sucked them good. They were so sensitive now that even him brushing over them felt better than that strongest orgasm you'd ever had happening over and over again. Your glasses fell off but you didn't really pay attention to it- you could see fine now, anyway.

The bigger you got, the harder he sucked, and the harder he sucked, the bigger you got, the dumber you got, the hornier you got. This was what you were made for. To dominate faggots like this. You felt how lovingly he sucked on you as more and more blood pumped into your pecs, making them swell and bulge more, saw his eyes light up when you called him your boy. You felt him falling in love with you, rearranging his life to put himself second and you first. That felt good. This was where you belonged now, dominating. Getting big had been such a smart idea, brah.

Eventually you felt something odd and looked down, seeing something dripping from your nipple, but your bitch lapping it up felt so good that you didn't care too much to think about it.

"That's right baby, suck on Daddy," you said, pushing him in even harder, "Drink up Daddy's milk."

"Yes Daddy," he moaned like the little bitch he was as you got bigger and bigger.

He moaned in pleasure, sucking even faster. You were so lost in it that you didn't notice he started bulking up, too. His little twink body got thicker and more buff; his pale skin became a deep bronze as a dark tribal tattoo ran over his now bulging bicep. He stopped sucking for a second and stared at your nipples, blinking dumbly. His body wanted to keep going, his mind just needed a new justification for it now that he was a dumb jockbro like you and not a beta faggot anymore. His body quickly forced his brain to rearrange what it needed to in order to continue.

"Damn brah, you're huge," he said with a dumb laugh, standing and moving behind you. You stood too- both of you were about three times bigger now than you had been when you sat down on the bed. He started rubbing your pecs again.

"For sure brah," you said, flexing as precum leaked out of your cock and a low growl escaped you. Your arms looked ripped and you felt fucking massive now.

"Man, I love appreciating another bro's bod. Really motivates me to work harder in the gym. That's probably why I've gotten so big so quick, haha." He rubbed them, caressed them, felt and pleasured every inch of them. "Lets make you nice and big, brah," he said as he grabbed the tips of each. Your head rolled back onto his shoulder as you gained more mass and another line of liquid started leaking out of you. He scooped it onto his fingers and put them in his mouth, not letting one drop spill. You felt his arms getting wider again, felt him getting taller behind you.

"Haha, fuck yeah bro," you said dumbly. "Let's keep getting bigger and bigger together," you said as your patchy facial hair grew into a thick beard. You both kept going until your stomaches growled at the same time.

"Yo, we should find some fags to cook us dinner. Real twinky bottom bitches... you know, that sounds kind of familiar..." he said, face scrunching up in confusion. He shrugged. "I dunno."

It sounded kind of familiar to you too, but you were pretty sure you didn't know anymore like that. "Yeah," you said, staring at all the mass you'd gained and bouncing your pecs in the mirror.

Eric Janicki

You popped Grindr open and saw some skinny guy as your profile pic. You must've uploaded that on accident. You replaced it with a current pic, and the messages came flooding in. About twenty minutes later, three twinks were naked in your kitchen except for aprons and tall white socks making both of your meals for the week. One of them had kind of resisted, but 5 minutes headlocked in your sweaty pit had broken him pretty fast. You and your bro stared at all three of them, smirking at their rock hard cocks poking out of their aprons.

"Fuck its good to be a man," he said, crushing up another beer can and tossing it on the floor. One of the twinks quickly picked it up and threw it out.

"Sure is brah," you said, doing the same yourself. The sane twink gravved it.

"Look at this good boy," you said, turning towards him and spreading your arms wide. "Why don't you come sit on Daddy's lap?"

He darted over to you with a big smile on his face, jumping onto your lap and wrapping his arms around you. His hands felt and rubbed all over your muscles. You pulled him in closer, resting his head on your big chest. "That's it baby. Let it all go. Just lay down on Daddy."

His eyes closed as his body grew slack and he rested his weight fully on you. His face slid down your chest- when he reached your nipple, he started sucking automatically. You twitched, feeling your body pulse again. Your shorts ripped and your huge cock spilled out of it, swinging side to side from its own weight. His eyes locked onto it and lit up as he dove towards it, wrapping his lips around it. Your hand grabbed the back of his head tight- he welped in a mixture of pleasure and pain as you pushed it onto your cock, forcing it further down his throat- but he never stopped- in fact, it made him go harder. One of his buddies noticed and his eyes locked onto your chest. You smirked, bouncing your pecs while his friend sucked you off. His eyes followed them like he was watching tennis and he slowly started walking towards you, like he was in a trance- when he was close enough, you closed an arm around his head tightly, pulling him into you. His face lit up as your thick bicep closed around it and he latched onto your chest like his friend had. Your head tilted back as one slurped his way up and down your huge cock obediently and the other worshipped your chest, so lost in pleasure that you again didn't notice what was leaking from your chest again and now your cock, too. Both twinks' high pitched whimpers got deeper and deeper as they drank it up, turning into the third and fourth dumb douchebros in the room. By time they stood up, they looked just as bulked up as you and the first twink you'd had over.

The fifth one- the one who'd resisted- was just watching, looking shocked. You told him to come over, but he didn't move. You laughed and nodded at him to the two ex-twinks, who both grabbed him and started dragging him over.

"Haha, look at him try to stop us bro," one laughed.

"What does he think his skinny beta ass is gonna do?" asked the other. With their new huge biceps, thighs, and calves, they pulled him along like a ragdoll. He turned his head and closed his mouth as they forced it into your pecs, but more juice was already leaking out of you onto his lips, seeping between the cracks. He shuddered, murmuring "no no no- don't want to be. a stupid bro-" over and over as his body bulged and his muscles pumped up. His fine blonde leg hairs got coarse and dark and he grew a thick beard like yours. His feet ripped out of his socks, going from small and soft to big and rough. His tiny twink frame expanded, filling out into huge pecs, lats and abs. The no's became a low grunt and then a dumb jock laugh as he transformed, eyes glazing over and you fingered another few drops into his mouth. Now his tongue licked it off your hand greedily, slurping up eery drop as he got as big as the rest of them. He walked over to the mirror, smiling dumbly into it as he flexed his big arms showing the thick dark patches of pit hair that had grown under his arms. He sniffed them, shaking his head and smirking. "Damn I stink! That lift really got the juices flowing, haha."

"Fuck yeah bro," you said, stepping up behind him and punching his hard bicep. "Glad we got your skinny ass in the gym."

"Me too man. I don't even know who I was before it."

"Me neither," the small army of douchebros in your house said in unison. all staring into the mirror and flexing with dumb grins on their faces.

Your phone went off. It was your gym bud- the one who'd given you the balm.

"Hey boy. Hope you liked the balm. Now send me a pic of your new friends and your gains. Then I think you should all hit the gym."

You nodded slowly at the text, gathering everyone around you and snapping a few pics of you all flexing and showing off your new bodies.

You stared at all of them, smiling. You needed more, though. More twinks to convert into douchebros. That would make your friend happy...

You stared at the unfinished food in the kitchen. "Lets him the gym guys. And then when we get back we can find some twinks to finish cooking dinner for us.... and then we'll see if we can help them bulk up, too ;)"

A little dark, but I wanted to show the other side of hypnosis in this story. Much like any other tool, it can be used to help or to harm. There are those who will take advantage of the trust you put in them to control you through trance. The infamous Trey was and still is such a one.

Enjoy the story, if you will, but please also let it stand as a stark reminder. Hypnosis is not a joke. It’s not just a parlor trick. It can be dangerous, if abused, and can (and does) lead a person to eventually perform acts that they would at first have deemed abominable, when given enough time and coaxing. That is what I was trying to portray here in this tale. Synopsis and story are below.

Alejandro wanted to get fit for his new year’s resolution, but didn’t think he could find the motivation to do it and stick to it alone. An old childhood friend suggests a hypnotist to help him get into the spirit of his workout.

Over half a year later, Alejandro is experiencing a crisis, after waking from a trance he didn’t remember consenting to, doing something he would never have done in his conscious mind, or ... would he have?

Regardless, the man fled, and has not returned since. This is the story of his struggle between what he was, and what hypnosis twisted him to be.

Two Masters

How had it gotten like this? How had things pushed so far? Alejandro didn’t know. It started out so innocent, just a new year’s resolution. He wanted to get fit, get ripped, to be truly strong for the first time in his life. He wanted to get hard, like a real man, hard like muscles, hard, so very hard...

He gasped and shook his head. His arms had already been raised to flex and pose. He panted and rushed for a set of bleachers by the park trail. He took a seat, leaned forward to try to let the spell pass. He couldn’t allow himself to fall any deeper than he already had. It was what that bastard wanted.

Just how many men had this monster seduced? How many lives had he destroyed with his words alone? Julio recommended him, practically shoved Alejandro at him. Was Julio in on it, or worse?

The first few months had been so simple and productive. He’d managed to change his diet, drop the junk foods, stick with healthier snacks and choices. Salads and water replaced soda and carbohydrates. Kale and seaweed chips replaced potato chips. Asparagus sprigs, tomatoes, cottage cheese, spinach, chicken breast, rice, quinoa.

Then came the hard part, actually going to a gym. Julio helped. He practically pulled Alejandro to the facility on every scheduled day. The exercise hurt like hell, but it was worth it, once his body adapted. Fat gave way to carved muscle. His body had become a statue, like the old greco-roman works, and he had been the sculptor.

...

But no, not if he was being honest with himself. He was molded, sculpted by him.

“Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou? or thy work, He hath no hands?” he whispered, quoting the scriptures with which he had been raised.

He still remembered the tracks, the files that whispered to him by night and pulsed in his brain by day in the gym. Outgrowing his clothes had been especially pleasing. He still remembered that time he bent over to pick something up in the office, and his shirt tore off his back. The cold air striking his skin, the goosebumps rising, the exposure, the stares. It was so embarrassing, but ... it felt so right.

How much of it had been the result of his own desires and how much from his training?

...

No, training wasn’t the word. More brainwashing, indoctrination. He still remembered quitting. He couldn’t place why. He just ... wasn’t happy with work anymore, wasn’t satisfied with it. He wanted ... but did he really want it, or was that just the whispers, the tracks?

“Oh, God,” he said as he looked heavenward. It was half swear, half supplication.

He’d been so happy when he started working at the gym. He could teach others how to grow, help them reach the same goals he’d achieved, then plow into his own routine in his off hours. It felt incredible.

Then came the tattoos. He wasn’t sure what prompted it. Maybe it was all the times he’d seen Julio flex in the mirror when they were together. The way the flesh rippled over the muscle, giving motion and life to those cells that had been permanently marked. Next thing he knew, he was in the tattoo parlor.

...

It wasn’t his last visit.

He stared down at the sleeves of ink that had been so intricately drawn over his legs and arms. He’d even inked his torso.

And he still showed off. It was almost like a compulsion. He was so anxious at what others might think, seeing their looks, their faces.

Judge not, lest ye also be judged.

Jealous....

Fools mock....

These thoughts and many more whispered to him, and slowly, something grew in him. He defied perceived judgement with a cocky sneer, with flexing, with a show of his new strength. If they wanted to judge him, they could do it while they burned with jealousy. He would get bigger.

Bigger.

Stronger.

Stronger.

“Get hard....”

Alejandro grunted and bowed over his knees, like he’d taken a punch to the gut. “No,” he growled. “I can’t. I won’t.”

He felt his phone sliding from his pocket, so he stuck it down on the bleacher in front of him, then clasped his hands together and bowed his head to see the tent in his crotch. Tears blurred his vision as he warred with primal instincts. His hands trembled as he clenched them harder together.

“God, please help me,” he begged.

The tears fell like the sweat that had dripped from his body in the locker room. He still remembered that night, remembered the blank faces on his fellow employees, some of the more extreme lifters, a few of the intermediate patrons. Too many faces for him to sift through. Too many to remember.

...

Remember. What did that word even mean anymore? He hardly thought things through, always just acting, doing. Office work and data points had been replaced with weights, routines, training plans, diets, supplements. The gym had become his home, his life.

The late summer sun kissed his tanned skin warmly, almost comfortingly.

But those words still haunted him.

We grow for Master.

We work hard for master.

Flex for master.

...Serve....

...Obey....

All that and more, while they ... while they....

He couldn’t even bring himself to think of it. And yet, he had been doing it himself, before he came to, just like them, in perfect time. How many times had he done it before? How often had he gathered like that without even knowing?

He felt unclean.

“God, forgive me,” he rasped.

His trust had been abused, yet even now he felt that pull, that call. His muscles tensed, his breathing was ragged. His body wanted, needed to move, needed to tense, to flex, to swell, to do as it was programmed.

“No man can serve to masters. No man can serve two masters. No man can serve to masters,” he repeated over and over, desperately, imploringly under his breath. “I won’t go back. I can’t go back. No man can serve two masters. No man can serve two masters....”

His phone buzzed.

“Please, God. Please,” he continued to beg.

The phone continued to buzz.

He peeked one eye open. The glare obscured the screen. Dare he risk it?

He could always go to the police, call 911, do something, anything other than just sitting at the bleachers. But ... Julio. If he was part of this, too, then....

Alejandro’s stomach fell. Could his childhood friend even be saved, or was the damage too far gone? Was he too far gone? His hand trembled and his breathing stuttered as he picked up the phone.

A barrage of boxes filled the idle screen.

Master is calling.

Master is calling.

Master is calling.

Master is calling.

On and on it scrolled. The world spun and faded as his face went slack. His thumb scrolled over the messages, until a new one pinged, and he scrolled back up to the top.

No man can serve two masters.

There can only be one.

Report.

Alejandro’s thumbs tapped slowly and steadily as he rose from the bench.

Yes, Master.

He sent it.

He had to hurry.

Master was calling.

The one had chosen him.

He must serve.

He must obey.

He patted the crotch of his compression gear just once as he pocketed his phone, then began to run.

“I am coming... I am coming... I am coming....”

Joe The Sea Man

As the sun was rising, painting the ocean a soft, pinkish hue, a cabin door opens to reveal a huge, muscular beefcake, ready to start the day. His body gleamed as he stretched his muscles, smiling as he got ready for his busy day.

Joe was your average jock football player, mostly getting by on his good looks and his clean, neighborly charm. Unfortunately, he couldn't get a scholarship to college, heck he couldn't graduate highschool and didn't get his GED until he was twenty. Poor, simple Joe had to rely on the good will and connections of his high school friend to get his current job, which wasn't easy.

Not because Joe was lazy, he could, of course, willingly do whatever menial labor he was told to do. Not because of his lack of smarts, which certainly didn't help. No it was difficult finding a job for Joe because of his insatiable sexual appetite.

Joe now works on a cruise ship, a special vessel known only by eccentric rich people who had a...very specific taste in the help.

With big, enthusiastic energy, Joe helps bring out food to clientele by the pool. His uniform, as usual, is a navy hat and a pair of skin-tight square cut swimming briefs. "Here's yer seafood, dude sir!" Joe, with surprising finesse given his size and attitude, carefully sets a wide spread of vibrant, aromatic, beautifully plated medly of fish and crustaceans on the table. "Bone-appetize!"

The three men seated at the table smiled as one of them peaked over his designer sunglasses. Joe didn't know any of them, but he could swear he's seen one of them in a movie. "Thank you, handsome. Everything looks quite beautiful."

Another of the fancy men spoke up. "Put on a little show for us while you're here, eh?"

That suggestion lights up Joe's face in a wide grin. Without skipping a beat, he raises his arms in a double bicep. The light practically glistens off of the moisture on his muscular body, highlighting his beautifully massive torso. He turns slightly to show off his triceps, then spins around to spread his impossibly wide back. Joe garners applause and debased commentary, which be absolutely basks in. Unfortunately, he can't humor these men all day, and so with a broad smile, he begins to take his leave.

"Well hold on, boy. You don't want to forget your tip now, do ya?"

Of course! Joe dopily nods as he approaches the generous man, then turns his enormous ass towards him, pulling his swim briefs down to reveal both cheeks to the whole ship. The rich gentleman pulls out a pearl roughly the size of a golf ball. All it takes is a gentle push and a wet pop, the pearl is practically swallowed into Joe's anus. His half lidded eyes cross as he breathes out in that dumb smile that doesn't go away. Joe pulls up his swim briefs and thanks all three men, going about back to work.

As the Joe waddled his way back, flexing his anus to hold the pearl inside him, he's called over by another gentleman. He was still in the pool and requested Joe to go fetch him a towel. With a nod and a "Yes, sir, dude!", Joe hops on over to a kiosk to bring a towel to the pool goer, having just climbed out. Joe couldn't help but stare at this guest. He was obviously an athlete, probably a wrestler or a rugby player with how jacked and tall he was.

"Thanks bro." Winked the athlete as he reached out to feel up Joe's enormous, supple pecs, squeezing down before pulling on his thick, sensitive nipple. Joe gives back a high pitched moan that anyone around could hear. The big guy then throws the towel over his hair, letting his big body soak in the sun. "A diligent guy like you deserves a tip." He says with a smirk, pulling Joe by his briefs. Joe giddily nods and once again presents his waiting ass, as the athlete grabs another golf sized pearl from amongst his things and roughly shoves it into Joe's puckered hole. The sensation of fullness causes Joe to shiver, thanking the athlete. With a slap to his touch posterior, Joe continues his job, now stuffed with TWO tips in just a many minutes. Today was already shaping up to be a good day.

On this cruise ship, the S.S. Sea Cow, all servers who deal with the customers are like Joe. Big, dumb, but physically skilled and capable. But one thing that's an absolute must for these beefy butlers is that they must be okay with the idea that they are nothing more than sexy hunks of meat. The customers of this ship expect to have a menagerie of sexy studs to grope, tease, and debase as they wished all through trip.

Each morning, all guests are given ten pearls to carry with them through the day. These "tips" are awarded to any sexy studs who provide exemplary service, outstanding courtesy, or were just plain hot enough.

And so goes Joe's day as he serves one guest after another. One menial task to the next, with a sexy little show thrown in every so often, much to the delight of his super rich guests. One pearl after another is stuffed into his overburdened rectum, leaving Joe with a more and more awkward gait each time. Joe loved this feeling. The more his guts were stuffed, the harder he was. It took a herculean amount of mental effort on his part not to just tear off his swim briefs and just masturbate right then and there on the deck.

As the sun sets, his shift comes to a close. Joe strains as he returns to the captains cabin, along with a dozen other men with equally sexy musculatures lined up at attention. In walks Captain Kingsley. Joe smiled, waving at the captain. "HEY RANDALL!"

Randall Kingsley sighed as he hand waved at Joe to knock it off. They were friends in high school, football teammates to be exact. He hired Joe as a favor on the condition that they maintain professional relations, though Joe never remembered that part of the deal.

Regardless, it was the fun part of the day. Each hunky sailor was given a pan at the end of their shifts, and would squat to release every pearl shoved inside them. Metal clanging mixed with wet popping sounds as pearl after pearl was popped out of each of the dozen hunky men. Some of them look relieved as they finally let go of the extreme discomfort. Some cross their eyes, as the release of their pearls gets them hard and leaking. Joe, was exceptional amongst them. After about a minute, Joe released eighteen pearls into his pan, beating and squeezing his prostate so much that he orgasms in front of everyone, soaking his swimming briefs completely.

Each of the big brawny sailors offered up their pans of pearls, with Joe having collected the most. As part of their contract, each of the big servers would be given a bonus to their paycheck according to how many pearls they collected.

As they all shuffled out one by one, Captain Kingsley asks Joe to stay a moment. Joe happily hugs Randall as soon as they're alone, but Randall reins Joe in. The captain simply wanted Joe to come to his quarters later tonight. The fact that he held so many pearls in his ass surprised and impressed Randall. He wanted to take Joe and see how much else he could shove up in that spacious backside.

Joe loved his job.

Goods

You slowly open your eyes, groggy and exhausted. The lights sting slightly as your vision adjusts slowly. You try to shield your eyes only to find that you can't move your hands. Tied behind your back, you flex and strain against what feels like rope, only to find you're helplessly bound inside...wherever you are.

It's so fun to see the look on your face, slowly realizing what's happening. Realizing you're not in the gym you were exercising in when I found you. No, you find yourself trapped in a glass prison, on display like a valuable toy.

I take you out, your body wiggling to get free in my palm, to no avail. Your muscles were dense, defined, even powerful considering your size. But even with all your gained strength, you are simply helpless in the palm of my hand. I wasn't mean, of course. I'd use my thumb to rub between your legs. You liked when I did that. The friction of something so large against your groin caused you to writhe and gasp, helplessly struggling against me until you thrash uselessly in my hand, orgasming and dumping your pathetic load into my finger.

Next it was my turn. I would rub your tiny body across my dick as I used your miniature muscles to masturbate myself. Even my pre was enough to coat your body, but as soon as I cum, you were left drenched in my jizz. You were left exhausted, degraded, and best of all, hot and horny. Just how I liked you.

This had all started in the locker room, where I sucked you off and swallowed your cum. Little did you know that once I tasted your semen, it was all over for you. I had control over your body, your mind, your reality.

Still soaked in my cum, I put you back in your bottle, a disgusting display of debauchery. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you, and you'll enjoy every second of the rest of your life.