Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy involving power imbalance expressed through consensual sexual activity between adult men. Humiliation and body worship are main elements of this story. Stop reading now if this content is offensive to you.
Begging a Bodybuilder - Part Two
Patrick was completely caught off guard by Matthew's call. He had envisioned the beautiful man in his fantasies many times since he'd been up to his apartment, so Matthew was certainly on his mind. But he hadn't dreamed Matthew would actually phone him. Perhaps the guy just wanted to make a friend in the building, having lived here only since the summer. Regardless, Patrick would soon find out. Only half an hour until the appointed rendezvous.
* * *
Matthew's hot shower was relaxing his muscled body. He had had a punishing workout - the best kind - working out the fibers of his muscles down to the very finest threads. The deepest cords of his bulging body had been alternately contracted and stretched, strained and relaxed, squeezed and pulled to the limits of his endurance. His workout at Gold's had lasted most of the afternoon, and his blood-engorged torso had never been so pumped.
He had crafted his strategy. He knew he needed to be huge this evening. Patrick would be here soon, and he needed the little guy to want his body with an intensity like no one had ever wanted him before.
Stepping from the shower, Matthew looped a white towel around his waist and wiped the condensation from the steamy mirror with a washcloth. Lookin' good, Matty...Real hot. He smiled to himself. His body was astonishingly pumped. The tight skin was red from the blistering spray, and the droplets clung to his hard curves as he admired the image in the mirror. Broad shoulders capped his tapered physique, diminishing downward into flat abs and narrow hips. He drew a deep breath to expand his big chest, then twisted his upper body to see himself in profile. Shit! You're one hot fucker! His club-like arms hung at his sides. He inspected them, admiring the swollen muscles as he pretended to do some curls, flexing the biceps into hard mounds. Veins popped into view. The flesh quivered with the intensity of his squeeze. An image flashed through his brain, of Patrick's little head caught in the crook of his arm as he flexed. Matthew sneered down at him as he let the wimpy little faggot feel his power. He continued to admire himself for awhile, and then with a quick kiss to each bicep, muttered, "Better get dressed, or I'll be wackin' off before he gets here."
* * *
By the time Patrick was climbing the stairs to Matthew's, he had pretty much figured things out. Matthew was just looking for a guy to hang with for the evening. They'd have a few beers, watch a bit of the game, chat about guy stuff. He didn't want to screw things up. Yeah, he was hot for Matthew, but he couldn't let the bodybuilder know that. He had to act normal.
The truth was, Patrick was disappointed that he hadn't made many contacts in the building, so this was a chance to make a new friend. He needed to put his silly fantasies about Matthew aside and be realistic. The guy was undoubtedly straight, and he didn't want any awkwardness between them. Furthermore, the guy was almost a kid. He couldn't be more than in his early twenties, despite his overly developed body. Patrick was thirty-one.
When the door opened and Patrick saw Matthew, he was both relieved and disappointed. The hunk was wearing a bulky sweater and oversized track pants, effectively hiding many of the details of his body. Even so, the sheer size of the man impacted his senses and made his groin twitch.
"Hey, Patrick! C'mon in, guy." Matthew stood aside and the smaller man entered. The apartment was somewhat collegiate-looking, with a few posters lining the living room walls, a couple of trophies on the bookshelf, and a weight set at the far end.
"Thanks." Patrick entered.
"Have a seat...anywhere you want." Matthew motioned to a beige cloth loveseat arranged diagonally in the corner. "That's the most comfortable. Gift from my parents."
Patrick gasped with surprise as he sunk further than expected into the small sofa. "This is amazingly nice," he offered. He couldn't imagine how far Matthew's hulking mass would sink into it if he, a paltry 130 pounds could sink this deep.
Matthew took up a spot at the far end of a larger, adjacent couch, and the two chatted for a bit. They talked about work, Matthew's ex-girlfriend Catherine, and Patrick's interest in detective shows. Patrick felt surprisingly relaxed. He began to see that Matt, except for his body, was just a regular guy, and really nice. Patrick began to believe that maybe they could be friends, getting together for drinks on the weekend. Maybe Matthew would even help him get into a workout routine. Patrick had always wanted desperately to gain some weight.
The conversation continued for awhile, with Patrick occasionally slipping outside himself, his mind seeing the two of them sitting in Matthew's apartment, laughing, enjoying each other's company. There was no doubt that the two of them could be good friends.
Patrick's pleasant thoughts were interrupted with a cruel turn of events. Matthew suddenly shifted his position, stretched out full length on the couch, arm behind his head, and bare feet extending down the couch to within a few feet of Patrick on the nearby loveseat. The kid's feet were sexy. Patrick couldn't help but notice them, and his hormones began to surge again. Shit! Things had been going so well. He was unable to stop stealing furtive glances at the long, thick toes, the highly rounded arches and wide heels. He submerged in his thoughts: Never seen feet so beautiful. These are the feet of a real bodybuilder. Never been so close to a guy this big. This guy's body is the..."
"Pat? You okay, man?"
Patrick snapped from his daydream. "Sorry?"
"I just said, 'D'you want me to get you a beer?'" Matthew replied with a slight smile.
Patrick recovered quickly. "Oh, sorry. Sure, I'd love one." He watched Matthew heave his huge body from the couch and saunter into the kitchen. Damn, even in track pants that guy's ass is amazing.
"So," thought Matthew as he retrieved two beers from the fridge, "the guy's into feet! He's a fag for sure. Don't scare him off. Go easy." Matthew was mostly straight, but he had hung around his ex-girlfriend's gay friends enough to recognize a fag when he saw one. His big body had a way of outing guys without them even knowing it.
When Matthew returned, he passed a beer to his new buddy, keeping the other for himself. "Dry in this climate, ain't it? Moved here from the coast. Can't believe what it does to my skin." Without further explanation, he stretched upward stripping his sweater from his massive upper body, revealing a tight, red, sleeveless shirt. Tossing the sweater aside, Matthew picked up some lotion from the lamp stand, sat at the end of the couch closest to Patrick, tucked a thick leg up to his massive chest and proceeded to moisturize his well-muscled foot as it hung off the front edge of the couch.
Patrick's resolve to "act normal" melted. His pulse picked up, and his palms started to sweat. Those blocks of hard shoulder flesh, mere feet away, rippling and flexing as Matthew seductively massaged the cream into his overgrown foot were far more intoxicating than the beer Patrick held, forgotten in his hands.
Patrick watched Matthew lolling the cream about his feet, first one, then the other. He smeared the fluid liberally down the sides, smoothly massaging and caressing the firm white flesh. Squeezing, kneading, gripping the flesh from heel to toe.
Patrick was hypnotized. He noticed a few dark hairs matted down by the cream. He saw the blood rushing to the extremities from the pressure of Matthew's massage, and thought about his own blood rushing to his cock. The rhythmic stroking was erotic, and Patrick's body raced toward a state of arousal in disobedience to his better judgement. His breathing quickened, and his gut tightened. Matthew's strong hands manipulated his feet, but far greater were the manipulations on Patrick's body and mind. Patrick felt helpless. Matthew kept his head down, focusing on his massage, drawing the little guy in. He could sense his plan was working. That's it, that's it, a little more...come to me you little faggot.
After a long, uncomfortable silence, Matthew looked up at Patrick, who had blanched as pale as a Michigan snowbank. Patrick's mouth hung slightly open betraying his arousal, and Matthew could actually see saliva glistening on his tongue.
"Get dry skin?" Matthew asked casually, calmly massaging his feet, alternating between them periodically.
"Ah, y-yeah. Sometimes." Patrick was getting so hot from this huge man's exposed, rippling arms, and his erotic caressing that he couldn't think about maintaining a socially acceptable conversation. "Sometimes," he repeated.
They both sat quietly focusing on Matthew's massage, tension thick in the air. "I had a girlfriend who loved to massage my feet. I loved it too. Can't blame her. These feet are pretty sexy." Matthew looked at Patrick and grinned.
Patrick knew this was all too weird. This is not how two regular straight guys should interact. Was Matthew onto him? Does he know I'm gay? Patrick panicked and wanted to run out, but the massage was mesmerizing. He couldn't budge.
Presently, Matthew stopped his manipulations and wandered over to the window. He stood there for awhile facing the street, hands in his track pants pockets, drawing the cloth tight around his ass. He'd give the guy a chance to stare at his butt for awhile. Matthew loved teasing fags.
All pretense of conversation was gone. The deafening silence interrupted only by the thudding of Patrick's heart loud in his ears. Patrick was scared, but wildly excited. He had never known the intense pleasure of a slow, masterful seduction. His eyes raked the back of the man at the window. He focused on his prominent ass, wondering what it looked like naked.
Matthew turned, padded back over, and stood directly in front of Patrick. "Is there something you want to ask me, Patrick?"
Good god! What is he talking about? Patrick couldn't respond. He could only think about feet, shoulders, and a stunningly large and muscular ass.
"You need to ask, if you want something," Matthew repeated. "I know what you want, but you need to say it."
Patrick was so aroused, he hurt. His thin body was starting to shake, and his breathing was deep. His extremities tingled. "I don't know what you mean, Matthew."
"Yes you do. Admit it. Tell me what you want." Matthew untucked his shirt and slowly pulled it up to his neck, exposing his hairless, pumped body. He paused, eyes boring into Patrick's. He smirked and said, "How long are you going to make me wait, boy?"
Patrick gulped. The body was even bigger than when he'd seen it last summer. The rounded pectoral flesh electrified his senses. A chest so beautiful he had never seen. Flesh so full, so firm, demanding his attention.
"I - I want you to..." He hesitated while his defenses held briefly, but then came crumbling down. The wall of denial about what was happening collapsed, and the realization that he was being invited to worship this man exploded in his brain.
"I want you to...take off your shirt. I mean - ah..." Suddenly embarrassed, Patrick faltered, then blurted, "please take off your shirt. I love - I love your huge body."
Matthew glowed at Patrick's praise. "Ahhh...a little fag, are you?" Matthew lowered the shirt back down and stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He caressed his own chest and tweaked his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. He grinned and looked down seductively at Patrick. With both hands he smoothed the shirt down over his bumpy abs and carefully caressed his midriff sideways until his hands came to rest down on his hips. His elbows jutted out to the sides as he struck an imposing stance. "Do you really want this body?"
Patrick was dwarfed as he sat in front of the big man, his face mere inches from the cotton-covered crotch. He was being made to squirm. The man was teasing him.
"If you want to worship me, I might be persuaded to let you. But you've really got to show me that you need it." Matthew was pushing things to the edge. He didn't want to lose the guy, but he needed to know that Patrick wanted him very badly. He needed to know that Patrick absolutely craved him.
Patrick wrestled with his compulsion to touch the man. He was torn between caving in and running out. Ultimately, he stayed put, lust overcoming fear. Then his dam really burst.
"Oh, I fucking love your body, sir." Patrick's face turned crimson, then he continued. "I've been watching you for months, craving to touch you, worship you. I can't stop thinking about you, your power, your awesome size. Oh shit! I'm so turned on by you! I'll do anything to serve you. You are everything I've always wanted to be but couldn't. I'm puny and you're goddamn enormous! I want you so bad. Please let me touch you!" By this point, Patrick was on the verge of crying from frustration.
Matthew loved it. His ego soaked up every word, every tremble in the older man's body, every tear welling up in his eyes. The adulation made him want to reciprocate. He would give this boy a real show.
"You've been watching me?" Matthew asked. "Tell me about that."
"I watched you from my window. I watched you every day. I saw you come from work and leave for work and go for groceries and vacuum out your jeep and wash it. I know what you wear and I took pictures sometimes when you didn't know and I followed you to the gym once in my car when you didn't know and..." The words tumbled out, and Patrick stopped short as he realized what he'd just confessed to.
Matthew looked shocked, then laughed outright. "Holy crap! You've been stalking me!" He wasn't angry at all. Quite the contrary. His ego was flattered; a broad grin showing white, even teeth said it all. "You really do want me, you little freak! Now I'm gonna really make you beg for it," he laughed.
Patrick didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. This man outweighed him by a factor of two, and seemed rather unpredictable. However, he couldn't leave now, not with the promise of muscle worship so close at hand.
"Here's the deal, boy." Matthew's grin had faded. "You want this..." His hand swept down over his body. "...then you'd better show me how bad you need it. Kneel."
Patrick hesitated, then nodded, and sank to his knees. "Good boy. Now beg me to take off my clothes."
Patrick's brain protested with embarrassment, but his instincts kicked in. "Please, sir. Show me your body. Show me your big muscles. Let me worship all the hard work you've done at the gym." It wasn't eloquent, but he made his point.
Matthew complied, stripping off his shirt completely this time. He flexed his pecs, alternately jumping them up and down and watching Patrick's reaction. The arms went up in a double-biceps pose, the peaks rising incredibly into bulging masses of rocky flesh. Matthew grinned. He was enjoying the look of lust on the little guy's face.
Matthew held the double-biceps as eyes devoured his physique. Every hour spent in the gym was worth it for this moment. The boy truly longed for his body. Matthew felt complete.
Patrick's eyes fixed on the great caverns of Matthew's exposed armpits. He found himself rising from the floor, compelled to approach the man to inspect them. He loved pits, the smell, the taste. He'd never seen ones like these, but he wanted to worship them. "May I touch you?"
Matthew smiled. "Touch me? You've got to be kidding. Back on your knees, faggot!" Patrick's fantasy was realized. This man was really making him beg.
"I need to. I'll do anything!" he pleaded.
Matthew dropped his arms and stepped back. "Maybe later," he said, pretending to walk away.
"Fuck you!" Patrick exploded. "You goddamn fuckin' tease. What else do you want from me?" More tears of frustration.
The bodybuilder simply smiled. "If you want to touch me, you've got to earn it. You're on the right track, Patrick, but you've got a long way to go. If you really, really want me, you'll wait for it. For as long as I tell you to."
For the next forty minutes, Matthew put Patrick through his paces. Patrick was forced to beg countless times. The bodybuilder humiliated him by making him strip to his underwear, berating his puniness in the process. The larger man toyed with Patrick's patience by retreating to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee while Patrick sat waiting on the living room floor. He even made Patrick squat, hands up, tongue out, pretending to be a puppy begging for food. The shame Patrick felt rising in his face just made him hotter. Somehow, his own compliance to these humiliating acts was the ultimate act of praise. His own debasement served only to exhalt this stud higher onto his pedestal of power, and Patrick felt born to submit to it.
The only progress Patrick made was to get Matthew to remove his track pants, exposing his massively developed legs. His butt and cock bulged under a pair of tight, red briefs. At last Matthew was satisfied, and so aroused for the touch of this worshipper's hands that he couldn't wait any longer. It was time to begin.
"Lick my feet, you pathetic piece of crap!" Patrick was there in a flash, tonguing the toes as his god stood before him. He tasted the last vestiges of the moisturizing cream, but he didn't care. He was finally being allowed to taste the forbidden flesh. He had craved this for so long.
As Patrick's tongue laved his feet, Matthew's weakness for being worshipped was finally being satisfied. But as much as Patrick craved to worship him, Matthew craved it more. The bodybuilder's mind was closed to his own need for attention. He didn't yet understand how deep he himself would go to receive the worship of a smaller man. He couldn't know that Patrick would be the one to teach him.
A feeling of power flooded Matthew's head as he watched this puny guy lay at his feet looking so vulnerable as he attended to his needs. Matthew had never had a guy right where he wanted him like this before. He knew that darting tongue was beginning a journey to explore every crack and crease of his body. He'd teach Patrick to verbalize his own worthlessness. Then he'd fuck the little guy. He couldn't wait.
Matthew looked over into the full length mirror by the weight set and witnessed the worship. He admired his engorged cock straining at the material of his underwear. Hormones coursed through his blood. I'm a musclegod. Worship me you little shit! Matthew smiled to himself.
END OF PART TWO
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