APOLLYON - pt 19: "Attack of the Gym Bunnies"

Series: APOLLYON
By absman420
published July 20, 2020
3901 words
Summary

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the Locker Room…

I took the phone from Palumbo as he sat there on the floor and helplessly played with himself, using his now-free phone-hand to rub his gigantic musculature—he watched me with the contented look of a man who’s just cum and was comfortably waiting for me to fall to the same fate. He leaned his head back against the mirror and moaned softly, pinching his own bullet-nips while he gently squeezed his balls.

“Hey, Dr. V,” I said into the receiver. “What’s up?”

His voice—so distinctive, seductive—hypnotic. “Hello, Strong. How are you feeling?”

“I feel GREAT, Doc! Between Woody and Palumbo, I’ve put on fifty pounds tonight! FIFTY!” I looked at my reflection in the mirror above Palumbo’s slumping form and flexed for myself. I was magnificent, huge, thick and cut—and still seventy pounds lighter than Dr. V’s estimate. How could I put seventy MORE pounds on this frame? Where the fuck would it go?

“Woody’s very upset.”

“I know, Dr. V. But the truth is…”

“I’ll get to the truth, Strong. Don’t worry. You’re not at fault, anyway—though you were probably a little hungry to get some size on, yes? Maybe a little impatient?”

I looked down at the floor, as if I were a teenager being chastised by a parent, trying to maintain my cool while my buzz raged inside. “Yes, Sir. Maybe…”

A little chuckle from his end. “Of course.” He sighed. “All right, Strong, we’re gonna have to end this session and get you home, so I’m gonna have to have you cum.”

“No, Dr. V. Please…”

Again, that laugh. “Listen, Strong,” he said slowly and clearly, “I order you to cum.”

It didn’t come out of nowhere this time—it was expected. It was more like I was standing on the edge of the pool and I let someone push me into the deep end. My orgasm came over me like an instinct, impossible to resist or control. The over-whelming strength of it brought me to me knees, screaming as my hips bucked, as the throbbing rhythm of climax beat out its subdivisions on the kettledrums of my balls—as the blissful masculinity of the second-stage washed away like the cork had been pulled.

Then Dr. V spoke again. “All right then, see you at your appointment tomorrow afternoon. Have a good night.” And he hung up. I tossed Palumbo his phone, which he caught with an athletic ease, then dropped it down beside himself so he could continue masturbating with both hands. I found my erection wasn’t going away either, regardless of the power of my orgasm, and as soon as I touched myself, as soon as I squeezed my cock, I couldn’t keep from playing with mine, either. Maybe I would never stop—maybe it would NEVER go away.

Palumbo sat there against the mirror with his legs spread wide, one hand in his already stained shorts while the other felt his magnificent torso. I knelt a few feet in front of him, jerking myself with his same casual rhythm, watching him as he watched me, pinching my nipples and pulling them down, trying to tease him. He didn’t like that I was over him, even if I was only kneeling while he sat. Without warning, he got up on his knees only a foot or so in front of me, so we could look in each other’s eyes, and he became more deliberate in his gratification—we were in a contest now too, it seemed, unspoken though the challenge had been. Mirroring him, I started to pound a little harder, as well. He growled, a strange combination of scowl and smirk on his face—animalistic.

I liked it—I growled back.

He leaned forward and pushed me with his pecs, testing my stance. When he didn’t knock me over, we pressed into each other, pec to pec, hips back so that our hands didn’t touch while we stroked ourselves, and growled low in our throats as we stared each other in the eye—two male animals locked in a territorial dispute.

Even then we got closer. Palumbo pressed his forehead into mine, like Greco-Roman wrestlers, like bucks about to clash. We rubbed our horns against each other and tested our strength. Forehead across forehead, it was primitive and erotic—Palumbo was a caveman, but so over-developed as to be something from the future at the same time. He was magnificent.

And I was pec to pec with him, smaller for sure, but we both knew my time was coming.

Again, the thought of what I was becoming pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t hold on—I couldn’t continue. I shuddered and orgasmed, my breath catching in my throat.

Palumbo took advantage of the moment, pushing me down with one powerful press of his forehead and body, and knelt over me as I lay on the floor, helplessly dribbling the last few spurts of my climax. He snorted once, smiling cruelly, and shot his load all over me, roaring and beating his chest. He beat me, it seemed. I lost this contest, and like an animal, he marked his victory.

When the moment was over, he casually stood, offered me his hand, and pulled me to my feet. He studied me a second, then nodded like he’d come to some conclusion. “I like you, Strong,” he said. “Not a lot of guys get it, but I think you do. I want to train with you again.”

I smiled. “Anytime!”

“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to dump the chump if we’re gonna do that.” He pulled a pair of baggy sweats out of his gym bag and slid them on as we spoke, over his cum-stained spandex shorts. “And after what he did to us tonight, you ought to go home and fuck the livin’ shit outta him—that’s what I’d do. He’s holdin’ you back, Strong. I could get you to the size you wanna be, without no boyfriend strings—I’ll show you how to be a man. Together, we could become the biggest mother-fuckers in the world!”

I nodded, and finally said, “Yeah.”

He punched me in the chest. “Dump the chump,” he said, shouldering his gym bag. “Then we’ll talk. Wait… here!” From the side pocket, he pulled one of the pre-loaded syringes he carried around. “Gear up with this right before you see him. It’ll give you the power you need to really finish the job. Okay?”

I took it from him, matching his slightly cruel smile. “Yeah,” I said, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

“’kay, buddy. Later.” We bumped forearms as he walked out of the gym—he did it with such speed and purpose that it must have been something Dr. V had ordered, though that thought didn’t occur to me until much later. At the moment, I was marveling at how quickly sexual encounters ended around here—no strings or cuddling for these guys.

I had to go to my locker before I could leave—I didn’t carry it all around with me like Palumbo did. Probably forgets the combination to his locker, I thought, laughing to myself. Then I remembered his cum was running down my torso, so I gave him a bit of a break. I shouldn’t make fun of him until I could better him, and he was sportin’ MY cum.

In the locker room, I wiped the excess Palumbo off my skin and was just about to strip when I heard a voice say, “Well, look who’s here.”

I was so startled, I think I may’ve jumped—so cool, Strong.

Standing there in the lounge area, casually leaning against the wall watching me, one of those “Gym-Bunnies” that all the big guys seemed to hate so much—maybe that’s too strong, maybe they just held them in contempt. This guy was just as beautiful as the rest, standing there in just his designer underwear—those UNICO boxer-briefs—a little heavier than the others, probably around two twenty-five or so, but still ripped for shit. I mean, these guys had NO fat—percentages so small it probably wasn’t healthy—and the cuts and separation of muscles, amazing! His ABS? Unreal! If these guys weren’t such fags, maybe put on a little size, they could really compete—in those FITNESS pageants, those “natural” contests! Of course, their obsession has been altered to something else. We big guys put muscle before cock, but they, those gym-bunnies, they put cock before everything.

They didn’t get it at all.

This beauty, this pretty-boy, this lithe and lean little fag, I recognized him though I hadn’t at first. He’d been “tricked out,” like a customized old Chevy, but I could still identify him.

“Rook?” I asked, with a quick glance to the clock. “Rook, what are you doing here? It’s four in the morning!”

He smiled and slightly shrugged those sexy shoulders. “The bars just closed,” he said. His voice was odd, lighter almost. “And I thought maybe I’d get a little action over here—and look what I’ve found! Look at you—you’ve gotten so BIG!”

I smirked and threw him a double-bis. “It’s coming,” I said in a cocky tone. “Still want to add a little size.”

He shook his head. “That’s just crazy,” he murmured. “No one needs to be that big. You’re WAY hot now! Why would you want to be a freak? Why would you want to do that to yourself?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said, releasing the pose and turning back to my locker. I undressed myself, pulling the shorts down with a confidence of a man who knows how good he looks without them. I wasn’t afraid of Rook seeing me naked—as a matter of fact, let him see what he could’ve had. “You gave up. You gave in.”

He walked toward me as I pulled out my clean underwear. Even his walk was different—sexual, like a whore on the make. “No,” he said. “I learned the truth. I had my eyes opened—same as’ll happen to you.”

I snorted instead of laughing, lifting my leg to dress. “I’ve already HAD my eyes opened, thanks. I’m gonna be a fuckin’ monster, bro. I’m gonna be HUGE!”

From behind me, “No, you’re not!” And then something jabbed me in the neck—a needle. A syringe.

Pain—blinding, screaming pain in my neck. As I turned to face my attacker, Rook grabbed my arm. Though it took most of his strength, he managed to control it—had Rook been a wrestler in high school? Why couldn’t I remember that?

My other arm was grabbed by someone else, the someone behind me, the guy who also took out my knees. As I fell, I thought, “C’mon, big muscles… What good are you?”

I tried to use my strength, even as unfamiliar with it as I was, but I had no leverage. I was easily manipulated by these guys—these two cheatin’ fags. It all happened so fast. Confusion. Pain. Vertigo. Arms above my head. The floor on my back. The feeling of restraints locking on my wrists.

Restraints?

Handcuffs—where the hell had they gotten handcuffs?—holding me to the metal floor supports of the bench by my locker. Arms spread, I laid on my back pointing toward the lounge. I struggled, and even with my new-found strength and power, the posts—bolted into the concrete floor—held.

I tried to see who had gotten me—what had happened. Rook was still in my field of vision to my upper left, and I growled and spat at him. “What the fuck? Let me outta this!”

Rook laughed. Laughed!

Then the voice of my mysterious attacker, stepping over the bench so I could see him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not until you get an attitude adjustment.” Muscular legs, but not huge—nothing like Palumbo’s, or Woody’s, or hell, even MINE now—wearing only the flimsiest pair of nylon shorts, probably with a thong to support his heavy package, his obvious cock.

“Romagna!” I said when I recognized him, the “gym-bunny” leader himself! Standing at me feet, though far enough out of my reach if I’d tried to kick him, he smiled and posed for me. Emphasizing his mind-blowing abs, his posing was almost sexual, seductive, fluid, unlike the big guys, who were more interested in displaying sheer size and power.

Romagna had an amazing body, even given his lack of real size. I doubt he weighed more than two-fifteen, but since he had no bodyfat, it wasn’t easy to judge.

He was beautiful, I’d give him that. Easily the most handsome—or in gym-bunny terms, the prettiest—of all of them, Romagna had a sort-of jocky, boy-next-door, all-American cutie-pie look that only emphasized his bedroom eyes, his puffy, pouting lips, his straight, perfectly white teeth. He didn’t even look real.

“You’ve put on some size,” he said casually as he inspected me. “I didn’t know if just two of us were going to be able to handle you.” I struggled against the handcuffs. No good.

“But surprise is always good strategy,” he continued, then looked at me seriously. “Do you remember what ‘strategy’ means? I see you’ve been training with Palumbo, so I just want to make sure.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

He chortled a bit. “No,” he said, regaining his composure. “I’M gonna fuck YOU. And when I’m through, you’re gonna be nothin’ more than the same kind of slutty cock-whore your buddy Rook has become. Isn’t that right, Rook?”

“You told me I could suck his cock while you fucked him,” Rook said quickly, reminding me of an addict anxious to get their fix, of one of Dracula’s house-whores. “You said I get the cum.”

Romagna rubbed the side of his head like a puppy. “Yes, yes,” he said, consolingly. “You get the cum.” Looking at me, Romagna rolled his eyes dramatically. “They become kind of ill-mannered in their need. Still, they make us a lot of money.”

“’Us?’ What ‘us?’ What the hell are you talking about?”

He looked at me quizzically for a second, like he’d been thrown off-script, like he was discovering some unexpected bit, like he was re-writing his scene. “Haven’t they told you what this place really is? I mean, are you gonna lay there and pretend you don’t know what’s going on around here?”

I didn’t answer, preferring instead to just stare him in the eye. His smile widened—probably because he realized he had a chance to destroy another truth. “Apollyon is nothing more than the front for the biggest escort service in the city—maybe the country! They cater to affluent, discreet men who aren’t looking for lovers, or don’t want the world to know they’re gay, but just want to have a hot muscle-stud to fuck, or worship, or submit to, whatever they pay for. How do you think we can afford this freakin’ building? We make a fortune!”

My silence continued to be my answer.

“Oh, that’s right,” he continued. “You don’t want to think. You want to become one of those brain-dead muscle-freaks that they haul out for display or high-end parties, like Ronnie—and they only dust HIM off for the Olympia now—otherwise, he’s pretty much kept in some basement somewhere, constantly repping and cumming, over and over. Idiot doesn’t know anything else anymore. And Palumbo’s fast on his way to the same fate. And now, you.”

I finally spoke… angrily. “What do you care? Why do you give a shit what I become? All you gotta know is that, small or huge, I don’t want to be like you, or your boys.”

He shrugged casually. “You’ll feel differently in a few minutes. Right, Rook?”

Rook knelt next to my torso, in the curve of my armpit. He smiled that dizzy, sexy smile of his and nodded vigorously. “Wait ‘til you get his cock inside you,” Rook said, laying one flat hand on my out-stretched pec—I flinched. “It’s AMAZING!”

Romagna grinned, and waved Rook’s statement away, though he was clearly only playing at modesty. “People say it changes their lives,” he said with a smirk, reaching down and adjusting his package—the same gesture I’d seen a million times from Woody, or Palumbo, or myself. “But it’s really the gear that causes the attitude adjustment.”

“The gear?”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Hello?” he said. “I just jabbed you in the neck with an amp of it like, two minutes ago.”—then, under his breath—“Jesus, it’s happening already. I’m getting you just in the nick of time.”

“If you think stickin’ your dick in me is gonna turn me into one of your boys, you got another think comin’. I’m not that easy.”

He sighed, an exasperated sound, and shook his head. “You know, Strong, at first your naivete was cute, but now it’s just tiresome. Put two and two together, if you still can. My dick doesn’t transform you. It’s YOUR orgasm that does the job. Simply put, when you’re under the influence of the gear, you got two choices as a man: lift or fuck—the gear makes both better. You know how incredible lifting feels when you’re under the influence. Well, SEX is even better—so good, in fact, that it becomes addictive. And if you happen to ingest the cum of a guy who’s on it, well, you’ve seen what happens then. Isn’t that how you initially got those incredible abs of yours, swallowing Prince’s energized cum? Well, wait’ll you get a full load of mine up your ass! You’ve seen what it’s done to Rook.”

Rook ran a hand down his own magnificent ten-pack, flexing them like he’d earned them. He looked me in the eye and licked his lips.

“You’re gonna be nothin’ more than a cock-whore for me,” Romagna spit out. “I’m gonna pimp you out the same way I do ALL my boys, and you’re gonna gladly do it for me. Hell, you’re gonna BEG me for more, you’ll be such a cum-addict. And finally, FINALLY, I’ll have an ‘in’ to Dr. V’s little club. You’re gonna help me get ALL those mother-fuckers—I’ll turn them ALL into my slaves!”

“I won’t help you,” I said, struggling against the restraints. “Even if you do manage to get me to cum, I won’t help you. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

Romagna nodded. “I’m sure you will,” he said, nodding to Rook. “I look forward to it.”

Rook bent over and started sucking on my nipple, causing a hitch in my breath as I shifted my weight trying to move away. He clamped on hard. So sensitive—but I’d fight, no matter how good it felt. Rook just held my torso steady and continued his effort.

“The gear ought to be hitting you pretty soon,” Romagna said, squeezing his package in anticipation. He played with himself through the silky lining, getting off on my struggle. “It’s all downhill from there.”

And the gear DID hit—I could feel it bubbling down deep inside me. I could feel it growing, expanding, rushing over me like a wave of poppers—overwhelming male sexual energy.

I tried to fight it—I tried to deny it. Even as my cock started to get hard, I tried to resist. But the gear was too powerful—nobody could’ve won.

My cock rose to its full glory.

“There we go,” said Romagna, still playing with himself as he watched me. “Not much longer now.”

Rook suckled on one nipple, pinched the other—what incredible technique. What insatiable hunger—a cum-vampire. Sexy image. Resist, damn you!

Romagna slipped his shorts off over his model-quality, perfectly proportioned physique, his thin hips—thin hips would make it easier to get him between my legs. I wouldn’t have to spread as wide as I did for Woody.

No! I can’t think like that!

Romagna revealed his cock to me, and I was almost breathless. It was the biggest I’d ever seen, almost a foot long, almost as thick as a beer can—had the GEAR done that to him? Oh my God, I’d never be able to get something that large inside me. What was he thinking?

But it was hard. And it was ready. It jutted from his hips at an almost perfect right angle. How much blood did it take to fill that thing? I thought deliriously. He must be light-headed.

I rolled my head to the side and moaned as Rook nearly bit through my nipple.

“That’s right,” cooed Romagna, kneeling down between my feet. “Just enjoy it.”

Look at him down there, I thought, lifting my left leg, feeling its weight—my quad was nearly as big as his torso. I was so fucking HUGE! How could that be bad? A big guy HAD to be as good a fuck as one of those little pukes. He’d see. He’d see what a good fuck I was. My head swam in my buzz. I wanted to lift—I wanted to hit the weights. Hot. So hot.

As he moved my thick legs into position, I shifted my hips a little to give him easier access. “Good boy,” he said, stroking along the outside of my hamstring, up to the knee, down to the ass. “What a fuck this is gonna be.”

“No,” I moaned, though it seemed my resistance was only vocal. “No…”

He lifted my hips, spreading my ass slightly. I could feel the head of his cock against my hole—big. Stupid big. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

“Relax,” Rook echoed, leaning over and taking my own rock-hard cock in his mouth, deep into his throat. “Enjoy it.”

And I willfully pressed my hole against Romagna’s monster and felt it slide inside, stuffing that mammoth sausage up into my ass. Oh, dear God!

Ecstasy!

And there was more of it, and more, and still more after that, filling me completely, each inch pushing me further into erotic bliss. Rook was right—NOBODY had a cock like this! Nobody! It was unbelievable!

And when Romagna began thrusting, and Rook began blowing, I knew I was lost.

Within moments, we started fucking the way a man and his whores were supposed to.

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Series: APOLLYON