Date: Sat, 27 Jan 2007 00:13:20 -0800 (PST)
From: hartporter@yahoo.com
Subject: Little Apollo

I knew of him before the contest, of course.  Anyone who knew anything
about body-building did, or who loved boys for that matter: Little Apollo,
the world's most muscular boy.  His life story was well-known too, though
that didn't stop the announcer from informing the crowd of most of the
details, when all anyone wanted was to see him, finally, in the flesh.

"Only eight years old, and the strongest male pound-for-pound in the world!
He has been training with weights for four years, and before that was
already doing kick-boxing!  He has set the world-record for number of kicks
delivered in perfect form in one minute, and has, as you shall see, the
flexibility of a contortionist!  None of which has prevented him from..."

On and on the tedious man droned, like a barker at a sideshow.  Nobody here
needed to be sold on the kid.  Why didn't the jerk just shut-up and bring
him on?  At least he wasn't going into the boy's family life, and I knew
why.  Nikos (for that was his real name) had been trained, fed and driven
from birth by his now notorious father, an immigrant who saw the kid as his
ticket to fast fame and fortune in America.  And it was working-out that
way until the night Nikos called the cops and had his dad arrested for
beating his mother.  It turned-out he was also guilty of some immigration
law, though the details of that were fuzzy.  Personally, I thought the cops
were just anxious to put a guy behind bars who they felt was guilty of
child abuse as well.  I was ambivalent about that.  I would sure as hell
not have minded having a dad who pushed me to develop a body like that when
I was eight, I can tell you.

There was also suspicion that the kid was being fed steroids, though
nothing had been found, and no sign of them had shown-up on any blood test.
There were ways around that, but what seemed to put paid to that was, two
years had gone by since the arrest, and Nikos hadn't shown any sign of
losing his amazing physique, as he surely would have if he had been
juicing.  Further, there was no sign of precocious puberty.  His face had
the smooth sweetness of all boys his age, and there was no suspicious bulge
in his shorts; well, there was a considerable package on display, but
nothing that seemed impossible in an eight-year-old; no apparent adult
sexual development.

I was basing all this on what I had read and seen in pictures.  Tonight
would be my first chance to see him in person, at this regional contest.
In fact, I had won the show myself the previous year, and was there this
year manning a supplement booth, signing pictures; all the crap that
body-building "success" leads to.  I was bored out of my skull, and would
probably have baled early, but for the chance to see Little Apollo.  So I
sat...and waited...as the jackass host droned-on.

Finally, having apparently used-up all the oxygen in his vicinity, he
announced the boy, and out he came, wearing a cheesy gold cape that covered
his body completely.  "Jeez," I thought.  "His mom needs some help in the
presentation department."

But the advantages of such an entrance became clear when the boy whipped
off the robe and proudly hit his first pose: a front double biceps.

My jaw hit my chest.  A collective gasp went through the auditorium.

Little Apollo was like nothing any of us had ever seen.  His sweet face,
smooth skin and childlike demeanor said "boy," but his muscles definitely
said "man."  The impact of his body when seen in three dimensions was so
far beyond what pictures and video had prepared us for.  This was no
freakish little boy; this was a world-class physique, shrunk down to fit
onto a 4' 8" body.  And "shrunk" was a relative term here.  Whatever his
father may-or-may-not have been giving him when he could, Nikos had
sacrificed nothing in the size department when it stopped.  On the
contrary, he had grown; a lot!

The poses were interspersed with kick-boxing and stretching moves that were
astonishing enough, but this was a body-building crowd, and it was the
flexing that sent shock waves through us.  At first his routine was greeted
with astonished silence, but then applause began, followed by the inane
hooting and whistles that indicates a muscle-head's approval.  The boy
seemed to eat it up, giving the people more and more of what they wanted.
And that was amazing too.  No one knew better than me what an intense
posing routine took out of a guy.  Many times I had nearly passed-out from
the exertion involved.  But nothing seemed to faze this kid.  Finally a
woman came out from the wings and escorted him offstage, him flexing all
the while; his mother, obviously.

I sat back in my chair and caught my breath.  What to think about this?
Was this exploitation, when the boy so obviously loved it and was in
excellent health?  Mostly, I was in awe.  This struck me as a breakthrough,
another example of what people are capable of when they throw-off the yoke
of belief and expectation and just aim for the moon.  This was a boy I
wanted to know.

I got my chance almost immediately, for within ten minutes, Nikos and his
mother were setting-up his booth right next to mine.  Clothed, his beauty
was more to the fore, and I basked in the presence of this Grecian ideal
made flesh.  Now he was wearing a track-suit that kept his body hidden, and
his hair, that had been braided and pinned-up during his routine, was
flowing freely down over his shoulders.  He caught my eye and smiled.  Oh,
those eyes!  As dark as night, and yet, so bright too.  He reached out his
hand and shook mine.

"How do you do?" he said, with politeness that had obviously been taught
him from birth.

"Very well, thank you," I replied.  "I loved your routine."

"Did you?"  He seemed genuinely pleased.  "I know who you are.  You won
this show last year."

That surprised me.  While the regional title was nothing to sniff at, it
wasn't likely to be well followed outside the area, let alone by an
eight-year-old.  His mother smiled at me.

"Nikos follows all the contests.  He wants to compete himself as soon as he
is old enough."

"Well, I am sure he will do very well."  The idiocy of this comment struck
me as soon as it left my lips.  Do well?  Hell, the kid would win any
teenage contest now, let alone when he turned thirteen.

The current contest had moved on to the women's fitness show, that sop to
the moronic masses who are too crude to understand or appreciate the male
physique.  And so Nikos was soon inundated by the hard-core fans, who
wanted his signed pictures, to shake his hand, to just see him up close.
At ten bucks a pop, the pictures were flying out of the boxes, and I
figured the family stood to make at least another grand off of them, on top
of the appearance fee, which was probably in the three to four thousand
range.  Nikos was a good provider indeed.

After two hours of this, I saw his mother wilting, and asked how long she
had been awake.  "Since 5AM." It was now nearing 11 PM.  It turned out she
was staying in the same hotel I was, and I offered to help Nikos close-up
and take him home after the show, if she wanted to get to bed.  She looked
grateful but hesitant.  "It'll be OK, Mom," said Nikos.  I got the feeling
this boy wore the pants in more than one sense, even at his young age.  And
so she left us, and we pushed our chairs together, and got to know each
other a bit as we sold our respective photos and tended to our fans.  Mine
seemed to grow exponentially, as soon as I was paired with Nikos, and I
made a lot more money that night than I was expecting to.

Regardless, we were left alone as the heavyweights took the stage, and so
we packed-up our stuff, counted our take, and carried everything to my
truck.  As we climbed into the cab, to my surprise, Nikos slid across the
bench seat and snuggled against my side.  It suddenly struck me that he
really was a little boy after all, one whose father was in jail, who had no
man in his life now, and must be feeling the weight of his responsibilities
pretty heavily.  I put my arm around him and he let out a deep sigh.  I
looked down into those gorgeous eyes, and my heart skipped a beat.  "How
easy it would be to love this boy," I thought.  I ran my fingers through
his silken hair, and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead.  But as I
did, he quickly raised his face, and our lips connected.  I was about to
pull away in surprise, but his strong young arm reached out and he placed
his hand behind my head, holding our mouths together for a moment.  Then he
let me go and smiled, his dimples two pools I would have been glad to swim
in forever.  Then he looked out the windshield expectantly, and the moment
was past.

Shaken, I drove the few blocks to our hotel.  At the desk, there was a
message from Niko's mother.

"Dear Friend.  Thank you so much.  This sleep is most needed and
appreciated.  If you could keep our things in your vehicle until morning so
as not to awaken me, I would be even more grateful.  Yours, Mrs....."

This startled me.  If she didn't want to be woken-up, what was I to do with
Nikos?  Surely she couldn't mean she wanted me to keep him in my room
overnight?  I presented the situation to the boy, and he shrugged and said:
"I can sleep with you just as well as her, can't I?"  "Maybe, maybe not," I
thought.  Jeez, this was nuts.  Here I was, shaking over the possibility of
having this child in my bed.  I shook it off.  "Of course you can," I said,
and that settled that.

And so in a few minutes, there we were in my room.  "I need to take a
shower, Mr -----" he said.  "Johnny, please," I replied.  "OK, Johnny!"  He
was stripping out of his clothing and running into the bathroom before I
could think twice.  He still had the posing color and oil on him from his
routine, and soon he was calling to me from the bathroom.  "Johnny, can you
wash my back?"  "Oh, God," I thought.  This could get tricky.  Nervously I
parted the shower curtain and beheld a miracle.

Standing with his back to me was a vision of boyish perfection beyond the
dreams of any Renaissance artist.  Impossibly broad shoulders, tapering
down to two mounds of gluteus muscle that could make one weep.  Legs that
bulged with beef, and yet retained their boyish beauty.  He was trying to
scrub the gunk off his back with a washcloth, but there were still streaks
he couldn't see.  I took the cloth from him and began to scrub him with
exaggerated vigor, as if to make sure no one could mistake my intentions.
Who was I trying to fool; myself? no chance.  Nikos? Surely he was too
innocent to have any apprehension of such desires.

"Not so hard!" he giggled.  "Got to get all this goop off ya," I joked,
rubbing even harder.  Convulsed withboyish laughter, he turned around and
collapsed against the tile.

And there he was: all of him.  His amazingly full pectorals bounced and
heaved with his labored breaths, his abdominals flexed and relaxed.  But
what drew my attention was his boyhood, which was as hard as a nail, and
slapping against his tummy with every movement.  His parents being
European, it was uncut, but the foreskin was all the way back and the pink
head was fully exposed.

Time seemed to stand still for me, and I considered it in detail.  There
were veins, which seemed surprising in one so young.  Had I had them at
that age?  I guess I did.  His testicles had not dropped, which put an end
to any thoughts of his having entered puberty early.  There was nothing
extraordinary about it really; just a nice, healthy piece of boy-meat.  It
was longish for his age, perhaps three- and-a-half inches; but not
freakishly so.  There was no hair.  The only thing about it that struck me
as unusual was the thickness, perhaps as big around as it was long.  But
that made sense, given the thickness of his overall development.  It was
just the right penis for this boy.

After a moment, I realized his laughter had stopped, and he was watching me
watching...it.  He gazed at me with a mixture of shyness and impish
amusement.  He knew.  He knew I wanted him.  He knew the power his beauty
could have over a certain kind of man.  How?  Was he experienced?  It
seemed impossible, a boy this young, so closely guarded.  And yet, his
mother had turned him over to me for the night, a virtual stranger.  Was I
the first?

"You are getting all wet."  I looked down and realized that while I was
mesmerized, the shower had been splashing my clothes, and some of his color
had gotten on them too.  "You'd better take those off and get in here with
me if you want to do it right, don't you think?"

"Oh dear God," I thought.  The kid was trying to seduce me.  And as I
looked at him, I knew I was powerless to resist.  I began to strip, under
his gaze.  His breath grew shallow and fast as he watched me.

"Please pose for me."  Suddenly the confidence was gone from his voice, and
he was a little boy again, a boy faced with a man who weighed three times
what he did and dwarfed him in size.  I felt my pride in my body swell, and
a started to flex for him.  "Oh, Johnny," he sighed.  "You are so huge!"

I was down to my underwear and the moment of truth was here.  "Oh well," I
thought.  "In for a penny, in for a pound."  I dropped my last shred of
clothing and stood totally exposed to this boy.  The sheer daring of what I
was doing had me excited beyond reason, and my organ swelled to full size
before his eyes.  "Oh!"  he squeaked, in a tiny little-boy voice.  I
stepped into the shower and began to run the soap and my hands all over my
Little Apollo, the satin-on-steel of his body thrilling me, my touch
thrilling him.  A series of little mews and gasps issued from him as I
rubbed him clean.  I saved his lovely penis for last, and as I soaped it
and began to stroke the perfect rod, he almost immediately collapsed
against me, his dry orgasm going on and on as he wailed-out his joy.

While he recovered, I rinsed him off.  Soon his eyes fluttered open and he
gasped: "What was that?"  At that moment I knew that my suspicions were
wrong.  This boy had no experience.  He was as innocent of the ways of the
flesh as I had been at his age.

"It was an orgasm, baby. Do you know what that is?"

"Oh.yes!  From biology."

Nikos was home-schooled, and obviously his parents hadn't hidden the "facts
of life" from him.  I was glad.  That would save me a lot of explanations.

"You've never had one before?"

"No!  It was amazing!"  He looked at my still turgid rod.  "But you haven't
had one.  Can I give you one?"

"You sure can try," I said, wondering how he would tackle it.

Grabbing the soap, Nikos lathered me up and then wrapped his strong young
hands around my shaft, sliding up and down the length with a firm grip.
Soon I was panting, and my knees buckled as my load fired out all over his
face and chest.  When I recovered enough to open my eyes, he was scooping
it off him and examining it with child-like wonder.  "Cool!  Sperm! This is
what makes babies, right?"

"Yes, that's what makes babies; if you shoot it into a woman."

He crinkled his nose at this idea.  "I'd rather you shot it on me."

"That sounds like a good plan," I laughed.

After we got cleaned-up again, we lay in bed, exploring each other's
bodies, kissing, and talking.  He had so many questions about all this, and
I answered him honestly.  Finally, he said: "This is what people do when
they are in love, tight?"

"Yes, baby; it is."

He considered this for a moment, then said: "Are you in love with me?"

I hadn't held anything back so far, and I saw no reason to now.  "Yes,
Nikos; I am very much in love with you."  He broke-out into a huge grin at
that and threw his arms around me.

"Oh, I'm so glad!  `Cause I'm in love with you too!"

I nearly cried at this, but I didn't want to worry him.  I merely said:
"That makes me the luckiest guy in the world.  Let's get some sleep now,
OK?"

"OK."  And with that amazing ability of the young, he immediately fell into
a deep sleep in my arms.

I lay there looking at this perfect boy, a boy who had given me more joy in
a few hours than I had known in all the rest of my life.  And I prayed with
all my heart that we would find some way to be together.

The next morning, I took Nikos and his mother out to breakfast.  He
reverted to the polite, slightly formal manner I knew was expected of him
at home, but was still radiating happiness.  Of course I had explained to
him the need for discretion, and he understood.  After our meal, Mrs. ----
asked him to go to their room and begin to pack.  "I need to speak to
Mr. ---- alone."  At this his face fell, and it was clear he was realizing
the time for us to part had come.  After he left, his mother took my hand
and said:

"I want to talk to you about Nikos."

"Uh oh," I thought.  "This could be trouble."

"He is, as you know, a very special boy."

"He certainly is."

"No, I don't just mean his body.  He is extremely intelligent as well.  He
has been home-schooled, and is reading at a college level now.  His father
did not want him to have friends his own age, or participate in any of the
usual boy activities; nothing that might distract him from being the best
and the brightest in all ways.  You have seen the results.

But.it has left him very sensitive and vulnerable.  You can't imagine what
it cost him to be the one responsible for his father's imprisonment.  He
carries such guilt; wrongly of course, but you know how easy it is for
children to blame themselves.

His father was the only man in his life, and now he is gone.forever."

"What do you mean?"

"Nikos doesn't know, but his father died in prison.  Murdered.  Not so
surprising, given his temperament.  I haven't told him, and don't intend to
until he is much older.  If he feels responsible for that too, it could
crush him.

"At any rate, because of all this, I am very glad to see my Nicky take such
a liking to you.  He desperately needs a man in his life.  I hope you will
continue to be there for him."

"Of course, I'd love to.  But you live in California, and I live here."

"Well.that is another matter I want to discuss with you.  I wish to leave
America and go back to Greece.  There is nothing for me here but painful
memories.  But I cannot ask that of Nicky.  This has always been his
country, and his opportunities are here.  So.I am about to ask you
something that may astonish you."

I thought I could see where this was going, but could hardly believe it.

"I know you are single, with no children of your own.  I see the love in
your eyes when you look at Nicky.  Would you consider taking him in, so
that he can remain here?  Of course he can always come to Greece to visit,
and I will visit here as well.  But."

She withdrew her hand and averted my eyes.  "I hate to think what you will
think of me if I say this."

"Please be open with me.  If this is to happen, I need to know what you are
thinking."  She sighed.

"Nicky looks very much like his father, and.right now, I desperately need
to have no reminders of that man around me.  I love my son, you mustn't
think that I don't.  But if I am to heal from what I have been through."

"I think I understand.  Love is a messy business sometimes isn't it?"

"Yes."  She smiled a little at the understatement.  "Messy."

My heart was beating very fast, as I realized what a miracle was happening
at this table.  I was about to be granted my heart's desire.

"You needn't be concerned about money.  As you saw last night, Nicky is
more than capable of earning a very good living, enough for you both if
necessary.  You would need to take over his training and diet, as well as
manage his career.  But you obviously have the skills to do that.  He
handles his schooling on his own at this point.  What I am most concerned
about is, will you be good to him?  Will you love him as your own?"

"You need have no concerns about that.  I already love him more than I can
say.  But.if this is to happen, I cannot do it by halves.  I would only
consider it if you allowed me to adopt Nikos."

She brightened.  "That is just what I was hoping for."

Nikos was very much surprised when his mother told him that they would be
remaining in my city for one more day, but delighted.  I suggested he and I
go on a picnic together, to a secluded spot I knew in the woods outside the
city.

It was an idyllic day, swimming, hiking, sun-bathing.  Eventually the time
came for me to tell him what his mother had suggested.  It was a lot for a
young boy to take-in, and I was hard-pressed to make him feel that he was
not being abandoned, because of course he really was.  It was
incomprehensible to me how anyone could leave behind an angel like Nicky,
but I was not about to question my good fortune.  I felt sure that he would
be better off with me in any case.

When he finally realized that this would mean that he and I could be
together, sharing our lives, our bed, our bodies, whatever doubts he had
harbored quickly melted away, and soon we were enjoying each other as only
a man and boy in love can.

Oh, how I loved the taste of his glorious body: his tangy boy-sweat in the
smooth cups of his armpits; the sweet smell of his tiny boy-bag, and its
slightly salty tang on my tongue; the spicy musk of his precious hole.
Using some suntan lotion, I slipped a forefinger into his hot interior,
stroking the tiny nubbin of his prepubescent prostate, and sucked his fat
boner into my mouth; oh, what bliss.  I slowly teased him to a shattering
climax that left him panting.  After his amazingly fast recovery, he wanted
to return the favor.  It was such a joy to share the fruits of my many
years of labor in the gym with my wonderful boy-mate, to hear his whimpers
and sighs at each new discovery.  When his lovely pink tongue entered my
hole, I thought: "If I die right now, it will all have been worth it."

Of course he could only get the head of my cock into his mouth, and his
small finger couldn't begin to reach my prostate.  So I greased-up his hand
and forearm and showed him how to form his fingers into a point, and soon
his hand popped through my opening, filling me like a giant cock would.  He
worked his muscular arm in and out of me, while stroking my shaft with his
other hand, and it wasn't long before I was filling his sucking mouth with
a massive load of my jism.  Like the disciplined little trouper he was, he
swallowed every drop, and looked at me with such pride in his
accomplishment I couldn't help but laugh.  Oh, what a joy this boy was.

The next day Nikos and his mother flew home to make all the arrangements,
and I was bereft.  What if she changed her mind?  What if something
happened to my boy?  The next month was hell.  But at the end of that time,
all the paperwork was complete, their house had sold, and Mrs. ---- was
winging her way to Greece as Nikos was flying home to me.  When he got off
the train, I could have sworn he was even more beautiful than when he left.
He jumped into my arms and we wept and kissed like lovers, not caring what
anyone thought.

We have been together for two years now.  We both continue to pursue our
body building careers, and we also do an act where we pose together, which
brings the house down.  Nicky took it as a personal goal that before our
first anniversary he would be able to take my cock in his virgin ass.  I
thought he was being over- ambitious, but as usual, I underestimated him.
He gave me that as his present to me, and I will never get another present
as wonderful.  With his flexibility, you should see the positions we can
get into, many of which I am sure we invented.  We often videotape our
lovemaking, so we can watch it ourselves later.  You've never seen anything
like it, believe me.  I am sure it would convince any doubters that men and
boys were made to have sex together; at least when they are as in love as
we are.

As I type this, Nicky is sitting on my lap, sliding up and down my big
bone, using his inner muscles to milk me.  He can keep this up for hours,
always keeping me just on the edge.  He loves to suck my big muscle-tits in
this position, his legs wrapped around my waist, his arms around my neck.
I look down into the bottomless depths of those dark eyes, and see all the
wonder of life.

He is my boy, my Little Apollo, and I am his man.