Brandon Twice
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On His Knees
🕑 Added 2021-06-08 04:53:50 +0000 UTCRyan Terry was in the bathroom when he heard the hotel door open. “Help yourself to a drink,” he called out before taking a look at his freshly showered physique. He ran his hands down his ripped, rock-hard abdomen and made his pecs bounce. Good god, he was flawless! He heard the clink of a glass and a few plunks of ice cubes and smiled. He tied a towel around his waist and winked at himself before strutting out.
The bartender he’d invited up had been cute enough, but essentially it was a right-place-right time scenario. Ryan had a competition the next morning. It had been his ritual for years to rail some little guy until he couldn’t walk straight to relieve some tension so he’d have a clear head onstage. This little guy had dark, shaggy hair and light blue eyes. He was half Ryan’s size and a good head shorter, probably 5’3”--Ryan’s favorite type, the kind he could pick up and curl for reps, or throw over his shoulder with ease.
“What’s your drink?” Ryan asked, hands on his hips, broad shoulders thrust out. The towel tied around his waist was starting to come loose. Once he moved his fists, he’d be totally nude.
The bartender’s eyes went wide. “Good god,” he said in a hushed voice. “You’re… like a god!”
Ryan just shrugged and ran a hand up and down his abs like he was strumming a guitar. “Nah, just a man,” he said in his thick British accent. He licked his lips and nodded at the glass in the bartender’s shaking hand. “Whiskey man?”
The bartender suddenly threw back the highball, chugging its contents until the ice cubes clanked against his mouth. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he slowly stood. “Is this… something you do a lot?” he said, his eyes still running up and down Ryan’s flawless physique.
“Only when I see a guy I like,” Ryan said with a wink. He brought both hands up and crossed his arms, sliding his fingers under his armpits. With a twitch of his hip flexors the towel fell, unveiling his rippling leg muscles and his big, thick cock. The skinny man before him set the glass down and smiled.
“There are, like, a ton of you muscleguys in the hotel tonight,” he said, slowly sinking to his knees. “What is there, a competition or something?”
“Not much of a competition when I show up,” Ryan said, slowly raising his hands above his head before pulling them down into a double biceps pose. He shifted his groin, making his hardening cock wobble back and forth.
“Damn, you are a tasty piece,” the bartender said. “Exactly why I chose you.” He put his hands on Ryan’s outer quads before slurping on the bodybuilder’s big, full balls.
Ryan moaned at the sensation, thinking, Who chose who, little man? But the bartender’s mouth was doing too good a job. Ryan moaned and closed his eyes, through his head back as the bartender slurped the egg-sized nuts into his mouth and rolled them around with his tongue.
“God, fuck,” Ryan moaned. He felt strange… almost a little lightheaded. It was probably the whisky… No, wait, I didn’t drink any.
The bartender inhaled Ryan’s cock like a champ, swallowing it to the hilt with ease, then sliding it out and cranking around the base before teasing the underside with his tongue. Ryan felt tired and woozy.
“Easy,” Ryan said breathlessly, putting a hand on the back of the bartender’s head. “Take your time, little guy. We’ve got all night. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” His face grew hot as he realized he was about to shoot his load--after only about three minutes! The big stud was too proud to let go that easily. He started to pull back, but the bartender stayed locked on to his dick, slurping it back in. Ryan’s legs went weak as he felt his balls pull up just as the bartender grabbed them and started massaging them with both hands.
Ryan’s orgasm came on too fast. He couldn’t stop it--not with the little bartender sucking his dick with such mastery. His fingers and toes curled as he felt a powerful sensation rocketing through him, starting in his extremities and rolling over him in waves. A bubble popped inside him and he felt himself starting to sink to the floor.
“Ohhh--fuuuuuck…” Ryan moaned, but it seemed unfamiliar. It was far too high-pitched to be his deep English voice. Why did he feel so weak all of a sudden? He’d stepped out of the shower feeling invigorated only minutes before. Now his whole body felt so heavy, he could barely stand.
His dick came out of the bartender’s mouth with a small POP. Ryan’s vision was blurry. He reached out to steady himself on the hotel furniture nearby but his arm had no strength in it. “I… can’t… so… tired…” he mumbled in a high-pitched, squeaky voice that wasn’t his own. He just wanted to sleep for a day or two… as he slumped across the carpet, His eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay awake, but he felt his consciousness fading.
The last thing he saw before fading out was a massive man, impossibly huge, towering over him. “Not so big anymore, are ya, bitch?” he said in a deep voice. Then… nothing.
Ryan awoke on the couch with no idea what time it was. His head throbbed as he struggled to open his eyes. It was dark out--was it early morning? He couldn’t recall what day it was or when he needed to be up… didn’t he have something to do that day?
He dragged himself upright and placed his feet on the ground. The competition! Holy shit, he thought. What time was it? He fumbled around for his phone. Was this even his hotel room? Everything felt strange and out of place. When he was finally able to drag himself to his feet, he stumbled across the room, clicking on the light.
There was a bottle of water on the counter nearby. He guzzled it, then pulled it away. Had he been drugged? What had he drunk the night before?
The bartender… But he hadn’t had anything to drink. The towel he’d worn from the shower was still in a pile near the couch. He shivered--he was naked. But as he looked down at his body, he cried out.
Gone were his thick, full muscles, the athletic build he’d carved out for years. He stared at his thin, dainty hands, struggling with the idea that they were his. Then he looked down at his stick-thin arms, patting his bony ribcage and the smooth tummy below. He had never been this skinny or underdeveloped in his life, even when he was a boy.
The mirror in the bathroom just made the pit in his stomach grow bigger. He stared at the towel rod with wide eyes, realizing it was at eye level now. He was barely tall enough to see over the counter. He had to stand on the toilet to get a view of his whole body. He was just skin and bones, as if he’d never had muscle on his body in his life. His face was the same, but narrower and gaunt. Gone was the chiseled jaw and angular features of his atlhetic visage. Now he looked underfed.
“How is this--” He’d meant to finish with, “--possible?” but he had a reedy, high voice that sadly seemed appropriate to his new tiny form. He kept reaching down to touch his skinny limbs, barely able to grab enough flesh to pinch. The door felt like lead as he pulled it open. The idea of walking into a gym like this and trying to pick up a dumbbell made him shiver. How could he be this weak and small?
A pounding on the door made him jump. He looked around his hotel room, desperate to find his phone. He couldn’t answer the door naked--and certainly not looking like this! He audibly yelped when he heard the click of the hotel lock disengaging. He scanned the room in a panic, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around him. He couldn’t believe how heavy it felt, or how huge it seemed wrapping around his naked little body.
The hotel room floor shook with every footstep of the massive man who strode through the door. He looked familiar--shaggy hair and blue eyes, but his huge muscles stretched his tank top and jeans to their limit. He was a massive stud, and he towered over Ryan now. The little Englishman took a few steps backward as the big man strode confidently forward.
“There’s my little guy!” he said in a deep, commanding voice. “You sleep good? Usually after I drain a dude it knocks him out for awhile.”
Ryan just blinked. He remembered the bartender from the night before, sucking his dick before he collapsing into the deepest sleep of his life. This guy looked like the bartender’s gigantic, musclebound brother.
“Aw, don’t even recognize me? You never even got my name, did you, you little shit?” The muscular man stood proudly before Ryan, staring down at him with his muscular chest thrust out.
“I… I… why did you do this?” Ryan squeaked in his pathetic voice. The muscular man just laughed.
“I just love taking you big fuckers down a notch. You missed your competition. Lots of people are speculating where you’re at. The most popular rumor is that you’re on a drug binge. Pressure of being on top just got to you and you cracked.” The big stud grabbed a handful of his ample muscle pec and smiled, licking his lips. “I may have started that rumor, but it’s caught on like wildfire. All over the internet today.”
“You… you turn me back!” Ryan said. He stepped forward and shoved the big man with all of his life. The big man just laughed, barely budged by the meek little attempt at aggression. The big man seemed to be made of granite, immovable by Ryan’s flimsy little body now.
“What, and lose all these big sexy muscles?” The bartender made his pecs bounce. Ryan watched as the stuffed fabric twitched as the meaty chest muscles crunched and bulged. “You wanna feel?”
Ryan couldn’t believe himself: he did. His hands were already halfway to the bartender’s body before he even realized. He hesitated, but the bartender grabbed his smaller hand and pressed it against his big chest. It felt like warm granite. Ryan had never hooked up with another guy with muscles before. The sensation awoke something deep inside him. He suddenly wanted to bury his face in male muscle. He wanted to taste it, to smell it. He wanted to feel the weight of this muscleman sitting on his face.
“Now, I will turn you back, under one condition,” the bartender said. He released Ryan’s hand and swatted the little guy away. Ryan couldn’t believe how small and insignificant he felt next to this monster. He also knew he would do anything to be that big again. “Go get those fancy board shorts you compete in out of your luggage. Bring them out here.”
Ryan sadly walked to his bedroom, dragging the heavy towel along with him. He dug out the three show shorts he’d brought, heartbroken that he’d lost his opportunity to compete in them. He heard his phone vibrating on his nightstand. Certainly there were dozens of missed calls and texts, but he was afraid to divert his attention from the huge man who had stolen all his muscles. He had to get them back.
“Oh, wow! Look at that,” the big man said, snatching one of the pairs of shorts from Ryan’s hand. “Okay, this bright orange one looks good. Drop the towel.”
Ryan reluctantly let the heavy towel drop, shivering in the cold air conditioned air. He felt even smaller next to the huge man who had stolen everything from him. The bartender balled up the pair of shorts and hurled it at Ryan, who was nearly bowled over by it.
“Put that on,” the bartender said, pouring himself a glass of whisky like he’d done the night before.
Ryan stared at the shorts, unable to fathom how huge they seemed. He stepped inside them and gasped at the amount of room left within them. He could have fit his entire body within one of the pants legs! Holding the shorts up at nipple height, they hung well past his groin. He shrieked when he saw that the bartender was holding Ryan’s phone.
“Okay, little guy, here’s what I want you to do…” the bartender began. Ryan took a step toward him, but was afraid to drop the shorts--whatever the bartender was catching on that phone was truly awful, but the only thing worse than capturing images of his shrunken body would have been catching images of his naked body. “I want you to explain to everyone exactly what happened. Why did you get so small? Why are you so fucking puny?”
“Because…” Ryan began. “Because somebody stole my muscles!” he said. He hated how shrill and whiny he sounded.
“That’s right, world, Ryan Terry, professional physique competitor, is now just a skinny little pipsqueak,” the bartender said. Ryan’s cheeks burned red. He started to turn away, barely able to stand the humiliation. “Tell them, little man, exactly what was happening when you lost all those big, sexy muscles.”
“I… I…” Ryan’s face sank. Would he get his muscles back if he admitted it? If he didn’t, would he ever be big again? “I let him suck my dick…”
“Not only that,” the bartender said, stepping toward Ryan and shoving the phone’s camera in the little guy’s face. “You invited him up here to fuck him, didn’t you?”
Ryan couldn’t say it out loud. He could only nod. His heart leapt as he felt a tingling all over his body. He looked down and watched breathlessly as his muscles expanded, his limbs growing longer, his body filling out in all directions. Soon he didn’t even have to hold the board shorts up; they sat naturally over his widening hips. His legs thickened, his chest bloated out with muscle, his shoulders stretched wide. He flexed each muscle as it filled back in, so full of relief to be big again that he nearly forgot what he’d just admitted on camera.
He looked up to see the bartender had shrunk again, his skin-tight clothing looking baggy and ridiculous on him. The bartender clicked the screen of the phone and hurled it across the room. “I posted that on your instagram. You delete it, your muscle becomes mine again. You got it?”
Ryan balled up his fists. He could just stomp across the room, grab the little twerp and snap him in two, couldn’t he? Somehow, he knew that by the time he’d taken a few steps, he would have shrunken again.
“Get the fuck out,” Ryan ordered.
“There’s a little bit of a residue that’s always left over whenever I drain a guy,” the little bartender said as he headed to the door.
“Get. OUT!” Ryan roared.
“Trust me, you’ll want to know this, big guy,” the bartender said. Ryan tossed the fallen towel angrily at him. The bartender dodged the projectile and shot Ryan the middle finger as he backed out the door, laughing.
The video of Ryan’s admission, as well as his transformation from scrawny twink to pro physique athlete, went instantly viral. Many thought it was a hoax, just some deep fake and digital editing magic, but Ryan refused to comment on it. That he left it on his Instagram was enough to convince most people that the bulk of the video was true. Ryan knew he had to leave it up, or risk losing all of his hard-earned muscle again.
His wife left him immediately. His coach quit via a text message. He lost all of his fitness modeling contracts. Ryan couldn’t walk into a gym without feeling the awkward stares of other bodybuilders, or the hungry gazes of horny gay men. But he vowed he would put that part of his life behind him. The video’s viral nature faded with time, as all things do, and although the internet never let it die, Ryan was eventually able to get his life back to some semblance of normalcy.
As a single man, he was able to pour all of his energy into training. Two years later, he brought a much more impressive physique, fueled by a need to prove the rumors about him false: he was a massive stud, an impressive athlete and a force to be reckoned with. His new coach said “the incident” was the best thing to ever happen to him. Ryan wasn’t so sure about that, but he was eager to return to his life on top of the fitness modeling and physique competition worlds.
The night before his next competition he found himself once again alone in a hotel. He planned to get to bed early, trying to avoid the memories of his former pre-show ritual.
As he showered before bed, he gasped as he watched his powerful body starting to deflate once again. “No no no no NO!” he cried as his body shrank down once again. He watched as the shower walls seemed to grow around him. His big dick shriveled, his leg muscles evaporating, his torso collapsing in on itself once again.
He stumbled from the shower in shock, wondering what had happened. This couldn’t be real, he thought, but there he was, even smaller than the last time he’d been shrunk. When he emerged from the bathroom, he saw the missed text messages on his phone.
“Every time you get little, you gotta suck a big guy’s dick to get big again. Have fun!”
Ryan deleted the text from the unknown immediately, but despite the tightness in his chest he knew who had sent it--and that it was true. Horrified at the reality, he pulled a dress shirt over his little body and fastened a belt around his waist. He looked like some kind of little fairy, with his shirt hanging all the way to his ankles and the belt wrapped around him twist with still room to spare, but he went down to the hotel bar, desperate not to lose all he had worked for.
The shaven-headed bodybuilder he shared drinks with eventually led him by the hand to the elevator, snatching him from the ground and slinging Ryan over his massively built shoulder once the doors had closed. Ryan’s little dick sprang to its full two inches as he bounced on the goliath’s traps with every heavy footstep.
He felt dizzy, kneeling between two legs that were each thicker than his whole body, but his desperation to be huge again drove him. He sucked like his life depended on it--and when the big brute finally emptied his big balls down Ryan’s throat, the shrunken athlete felt a familiar tingle in his body.
Still kneeling before the big muscular man, Ryan’s body slowly inflated back to its original dimensions. He sighed, grateful to have his muscles back, but the gasp of the big man before him snapped him back to reality.
“Holy shit--” the bald man said, scratching his own massive chest. “You’re Ryan fucking Terry!”
Ryan couldn’t even face the man as he searched for something to cover his big muscular body with--or maybe, he thought, he could just race back to his room nude?
“Yeah, maybe,” Ryan said, rushing for the door, his shirt balled up over his groin.
“Hey, I’d heard you were into dick-sucking but I had no idea you were so good!”
Ryan glanced back with a sneer, ready to tell the big man off--but then again, the taste of the guy’s cum was still in Ryan’s mouth, so what could he say?
“I’ll see you onstage tomorrow, sexy,” the bald musclehead said with a wink. “I couldn’t wait to compete with the great Ryan Terry--now I’m even more excited!”
Ryan stood frozen, blinking, before racing out the door.
The next day he did his best to ignore his bald competition’s winks onstage, but the memories of what Ryan had to do the night before were just enough to throw the athlete off his game.
Comments
Henry Cavanaugh
Once again you’ve produced another masterful muscle theft story! Thank you so much for taking my idea and running with it so wonderfully!
Gwahar
That was great
