BOY GOD
by LuvsMusl@AOL.com



A knock at the front door interrupted my training, and I suddenly remembered that my friend Mike had asked me if he could leave his teenage nephew Pete with me for the afternoon. When I opened the door I was shocked to see a thick-necked athletic guy slouching there in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy drawstring pants. From everything Mike had said, I'd expected a younger (and certainly smaller) boy.

"Come on downstairs, " I said, "and you can watch me finish my workout." The kid gave me what seemed like a patronizing smile, and then pushed past me and bounded down to the basement gym.

I was doing bench presses and had 195 loaded on the bar -- the weight I normally work up to for my heaviest set. When Pete saw me approach the bench, he nudged me aside and added an additional 10-lb. plate to each end of the bar. "Go a little heavier, and I'll spot you," he said. "It's the only way you're gonna grow."

With some hesitation, I got on the bench and pressed the bar off the rack. My pecs and shoulders felt like they might rip apart as I struggled through six reps, with the kid lightly assisting. "Don't stop!" he barked at me, and I shakily lowered the bar to my nipples for a seventh repetition.

"My turn," he said.

As I jumped up off the bench and walked away stretching pecs and arms that continued to throb with pain, I saw Pete strip the bar and then reload it with four plates on each side.

"I may need a lift-off, but after that I should be fine," he said. Pausing a moment, he stripped off his sweatshirt and tossed it into a corner, throwing me a coy smile as he revealed his ripped and sculpted upper body. My knees literally buckled, and an audible whimper escaped my throat as Pete slid the most solid, shapely, densely muscled torso I'd ever seen under the heavily loaded bar.

As it turned out, he barely needed my help to get the weight moving. And once he did he hardly seemed to strain, issuing only a quiet, half-voiced grunt on each upstroke as he cranked out ten perfect, smooth repetitions with the power and efficiency of a hydraulic lift.

He stayed on his back a second, then sat up, a little winded. "First time I've done ten with that weight," he said. "Next week I'll have to max out at 470."

My cock was hard as steel in my shorts, and I had to sit down on a weight bench to avoid revealing that fact to the godlike teen who sat before me, once again flexing his pillow-sized pecs. "You don't have air conditioning, do you?" he said. I shook my head and he got up and pulled off his pants, which left him standing in front of me naked except for a generously filled jockstrap. The kid's thighs flared out like two blimps, and deep separations danced between the beefy, perfectly defined heads of his quadriceps as he shifted his weight from leg to leg. The whole amazing structure was covered with skin as soft and hairless as a baby's.

He turned toward the dumbbell rack, revealing a butt that looked like two huge melons in a bag, only as hard and smooth as marble. "Are these the heaviest you've got?" he asked, picking up a pair of 100 pound dumbbells and then staring with undisguised pleasure in the mirror as he pumped blood into his massive arms with a set of twenty curls.

Now I couldn't help myself from standing up to get a closer view as Pete's amazingly peaked biceps swelled and inflated to the size of cantaloupes. Pleased with the pump, he set the weights down and turned toward me, lifting his huge guns in a mind-blowing front double biceps pose. I stared at him in total wonder. "You're fucking huge," I said. "How much do you weigh?"

"About two forty, " he answered. "I want to be two sixty by the time I'm twenty one."

"What?? How old are you now?"

The kid broke into a big, proud grin. "I'll be twenty in March. Everybody says I'm some kind of a freak. Too much testosterone or something. ...Hey, what's that?" He was nodding toward my crotch, where, without even thinking, I was stroking my hard dick through my shorts.

"Nothing," I said, flushing bright red. "Why don't we take a break?"

"So, are you a big homo like my Uncle Mike?" Pete grinned and looked me up and down appraisingly. I could swear he tilted his head to steal a look at my butt.

"If you're asking am I gay, the answer is yes, I am. Why don't you go shower and I'll make us some lemonade."

"So you're a fag, huh? Well, check this out. I'm pretty much way over-developed everywhere," he said, tearing off his jockstrap and proudly exposing a set of nuts the size of baseballs and a thick, nine-inch cock that was rapidly getting hard.

"Pete, get dressed. Right now!" I said as firmly as I could manage, but my voice cracked and the kid laughed and grabbed his swelling cock without a trace of self-consciousness. "Very forceful," he said mockingly. "I'm really scared."

I picked up my shirt and started to walk past him out of the room but the kid blocked my way, popping a "lat-spread" that flared his torso into a wide "V" and expanded his huge chest in my face. It was clear he was getting a big kick out of terrorizing a grownup.

"Come on, Pete," I said. "You know this isn't right."

"You don't like it?" he said, reaching down and grabbing my crotch. "It feels like maybe you do."

"Pete, please." I was basically begging now. "This is really freaking me out."

"Listen," he said. "There are a couple of fags at my gym who worship my ass, and basically take care of me after every workout. And these are big boys, too. Twice your size. I've kinda gotten used to it, and I want it now. So just get down on it, okay? You know you want to."

"You're nineteen years old. Forget it!"

His left hand shot between my legs and he lifted me under my ass and groin with one arm and threw me back against the wall, leaving my feet dangling about six inches off the floor with my balls riding on his powerful wrist.

"I didn't hear you. What did you say?" His voice was completely steady and calm, despite the fact that he was balancing my 185 pounds on one arm. "What?"

"Nothing," I whimpered. "I didn't say anything."

"Oh. My mistake." He lowered me to the floor and I stood in front of him, completely intimidated. For a moment his little boy smile came back: "I like this. You make it more fun when you fight me." He flexed. His bicep swelled hugely in my face, a rising mountain of rock-hard virility. "Lick my arm, faggot."

It was like something broke loose inside of me. I threw myself on his huge arm and struggled to get my mouth around the steely peak of his biceps as both my hands hungrily explored the rocky crags of his huge triceps and delts. His muscles were the hardest I'd ever felt, and my dick seemed ready to explode at any moment.

After I'd bathed every inch of Pete's powerful arm with my tongue, he grabbed the back of my hair in his left hand and pulled my face to his crotch with utter ease. "You've got a hot mouth," he said. "Don't stop."

I put my lips around Pete's massive tool and sucked hungrily, my lust increasing wildly when I glanced up and noticed the kid admiring his own godlike physique in the mirror. As he growled like a baby tiger and fucked my face even harder, I wrapped my arms around Pete's bulging thighs. It was like trying to grip two huge, stone columns, and it felt like my arms went barely halfway around each powerful leg.

The kid's cock got even thicker and harder as I sucked it, and as his dick filled my throat I gagged with pleasure and felt my own plentiful pre-cum moistening my gym shorts. I gripped Pete's muscular legs even tighter in my arms and doubled my tempo, taking the teenager's huge muscle cock all the way to my tonsils again and again. I wanted to be here on my knees in front of him like this forever, worshipping his power, his godlike virility. And at the same time I desperately, hopelessly thirsted for his juicy load, feeling I might die if I couldn't slurp and swallow his hot explosion of muscleman cum.

As I nursed on Pete's big dick like a suckling pig he suddenly pulled away and stood stroking it teasingly a few feet in front of me. I crawled toward him hungrily, but the fifteen year-old lifted a muscular leg and kicked me backward with his foot, sending me sprawling on my ass. He laughed and continued to crank his dick as I looked up at him with desperation in my eyes. "Please let me swallow your load, " I said, almost crying. "I'll do anything you say, give you anything. I'll be your man slave forever if you'll just leave your cock in my mouth till you shoot."

"Shut the hell up, slaveboy," he said. "Take off your shorts and lean over onto that bench."

I tore off my sweaty jock and grabbed the edge of the weight bench. Before he even touched me a strange tingling warmth spread through my body, a feeling of infinite ecstasy, like hot honey coursing through my veins. My asshole twitched and quivered as if it had a life of its own, a gaping mouth hungering for his perfect, granite-hard flesh. The moment his dickhead began toying with my butt my vision went black and I entered a realm of pure pleasure, a paradise of joyful submission to the ultimate Maleness, ultimate Man-Muscle-Cockpower of the Universe. I screamed as he suddenly plunged his massive penis deep into my ass and began pounding my ungreased hole without a thought for anything but his own pleasure. And yet, there was nothing that could have made me happier. The Boy God was mine, and I was his.

STRAPS