The gym closed at ten, but a little chat with the manager, and he agreed that Bruce needed to continue his workout, so he left the key with me, and I promised to return it to him in the morning. Bruce, on the other hand, was inconsolable. When he realized he was going to have to keep working out all night long, until I was satisfied with the state of his shirt, he pleaded and begged me to let him go, to let him rest, to let him stop for a moment. He was having a hard time walking, his legs were shaking so badly, and I realized that I had worked him nearly to the point of exhaustion. Still, the shirt…it was close. It wa stronger than it had been when I’d first smelled him, in fact, but at this point my greed was getting the better of me. In the end, I told him he could have an hour nap in the sauna, sweating out some of his misery, and then it was back on the floor to keep at it.
He could barely lift anything, at this point, and so I put him on an exercise bike for a couple of hours, sweating him out a bit further, keeping him plenty hydrated, and when he tried one too many times to get a break by telling me he had to piss, I started just making him piss his shorts on the bike–and let me tell you, when I caught a whiff of that, mixing with his sweat? I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out for much longer. It was three in the morning when I decided he could finally stop, and that I was satisfied. He tore that tanktop off and handed it to me with a sob of relief that he could finally stop, and I pressed it to my nose, inhaling his stench, ripped off my own shirt and pulled his on, feeling his damp sweat against my skin, and it was like all of the energy he’d put into it began to flood into my body. I was tired too, at this point, but like a strong cup of coffee, suddenly I was awake. I was more than awake, I was eager. He could barely move, but I didn’t need him to move–I just needed to bend him over the bench, tear down his piss sodden shorts, and slide my cock into his tight, virgin hole.
He couldn’t even flinch from the pain–if anything, the cramps in his legs were probably more painful than my fuck was. He’d wanted me to fuck him, after all. He’d been begging me for it for hours–because he knew that when I fucked him, it would be over. He wouldn’t have to workout anymore. However, I was far from done–the longer I wore that tank, the hornier I got, and the stronger I got, and the longer I could go. I remember glancing over at the mirror, and I could see my body swelling with muscle right in front of my eyes–I took a quick break from my fuck to haul off Bruce’s shorts too, and pull them on, shuddering at the piss wet mesh, but I could feel my ass begin to tone up, my thighs and calves too.
When the manager knocked on the door the next morning, wanting to be let in, I was still fucking. Bruce had gone slack hours before, his cock shooting the occasional load–dry by now–just from the friction of rubbing against the leather bench. I had packed on close to forty pounds of muscle–I was even larger than Bruce had been when I’d put on the tank. I made the manager wait a few minutes until I’d shot another load–I’d long since lost count–and when I pulled out, the…sheer volume of cum which flowed back out of his ass, pooling on the floor under the bench…fuck, I realized just how much control I’d lost. I went to the door, opened it…and as soon as the manager smelled the stale air of the gym, his eyes glazed over, he gave a snort, and he started groping the front of his shorts, horny beyond belief, his rational mind slowly shutting down.
I dragged him over to the bench, where he was more than happy to start licking up the puddle of cum from the floor, and I hauled Bruce upright on shaking legs, but he could barely stand. He just wanted to go home, but I still wanted to fuck–still, I couldn’t very well keep fucking him here, right? Even with my musk, I was sure that would get a call from the police at the very least, and I had no real interest in dealing with that. I…I was afraid that if I dealt with that how I knew I could deal with it…then this power really would go to my head. Instead, I got Bruce dressed in some spare clothes the manager had lying around, and then helped him home. Home to my apartment, of course. I knew, from Jack, that he’d just track me down if I left him. He needed me now, and I sure as hell wanted him. Best to just…simplify things. My home would be his home from now on.
It was hard going, down the dawn lit sidewalks. Not to conspicuous, I think–most people probably thought I was just helping my drunk friend home, though why we were dressed in gym gear, especially in weather this cold, was probably a bit of a mystery. The excitement and rush of the clothes was beginning to wear off, and I was starting to realize just how exhausted I was myself. Upstairs in my apartment, I heaved Bruce onto the bed, gave him one last fuck, and then dragged him under my smelly covers and climbed in with him–him naked, me fully clothed in all of my gear, boots and all, hugging him tight,m whispering sweet nothing into his ear while he groaned, telling him how happy he was going to be here, telling him what a privilege it would be for him to serve me and thanking him, of course, for my new gear.
Bracken's Corner 