Grunt

Ok, I’m writing this all down before I forget it. It feels too good to be true, but I swear, everything really happened.

I decided to go out dancing last night. My shitty ex-boyfriend Travis had dumped me recently – he said I was getting too old and too fat, and he needed someone actually hot to make his cock hard. Can you believe that? I mean, yeah, I’m 6 years older than him at 32, but I’m not old. And I may have put on a few pounds recently, but 210 pounds is still fairly lean for someone who is 6 feet tall. All right, 230 pounds and 5’10. But c’mon, even if I wasn’t revving his engine anymore, he could have been a little nicer considering that I paid for practically everything the two years he lived with me.

But I didn’t want to dwell on Trav anymore, or my weight gain, so I went to this club not too far from my apartment. I used to go there all the time in my early 20s, but it had been a while since my last visit...back when I was a little skinnier and had a little more hair. I got right in since it was still early and made my way to the dance floor, but it was clear I was not what the other men were looking for. Everyone danced away from me so quickly you would think I was a leper.

After only 15 minutes, which was enough time for me to be soaked in sweat and rejected by at least 10 potential partners, I headed to the lounge area. I figured a few cocktails would help me forget how badly things were going. I also ruined my diet by ordering three plates of shareable appetizers which I consumed in less than 20 minutes. “At this rate, I’ll never lose the weight and get a new boyfriend,” I thought.

I sat on a barstool nursing a scotch when I first heard him speak. “You OK, guy?” he said from behind me. His voice was deep, and although he spoke loud enough for me to hear him over the thump thump thump of the music, the tone was still warm and buttery.

I turned to tell see who it was, and well, fuck me. He looked to be in his early 30s and was extremely tall – like 6’5 or 6’6” – and had to be the widest person I have ever seen. So wide that I couldn’t even guess how far apart his shoulders must have been. He had short straight dark hair, dark eyes, and a kind smile on a very round head that was sitting in the middle of those very wide shoulders. 

He wore a white button-down shirt covering his massive torso, and my first thought was that he must have used the cloth from an entire sail to make it. It had to at least be a 5 or 6XL – God, maybe even 7 – and it was stretched so tight I thought he might burst right out of it. The sleeves were rolled up halfway to reveal a pair of very meaty and very hairy forearms, and even though he wore an undershirt beneath the Oxford, you could see the outline of his nipples through the fabric.

Down below he had on a pair of dark wash jeans that appeared to be made out of at least two or three regular pairs. The waist had to be at least 50 inches to accommodate all of his bulk, and the inseam had to be something like 40 or 42. On his feet he wore the biggest pair of black dress shoes I had ever seen – later he told me there were freakin’ size 18.

So yeah, a true behemoth. Like if Kingpin from the comics had a younger, less-menacing, but more muscular brother.

It took me a good 30 seconds to respond because I was so stunned…and in complete lust. Eventually I told him that I wasn’t having the best night. He smiled and nodded, and for some reason I unloaded the story about Travis and getting older and being shunned on the dance floor. I’m not sure if it was the alcohol or his kind face, but once I got going everything just sort of spilled out.

He asked if I had been rejected by my younger boyfriend, why had I gone to a club that would be filled with other Travises all looking for the same thing?

It was a good question, and once I couldn’t answer, even after considering it for a long while.

The guy motioned something to the bartender, and then put his hand over mine. It was rough and calloused but still warm, and he told me to follow him. Who was I to refuse?

He led me outside – the street was quiet, and the night air was cool and fresh, and I took several big breaths once out of the club (where every nook and cranny had smelled like Axe Body Spray). I instantly felt better.

My new friend asked my name and I told him – James. He replied, “I’m Grunt.”

I was sure I had misheard Grant, but it really was Grunt. At least that was his nickname – his real name was Ryan. I asked where the nickname came from, and he said, “Well, that’s a good story. Why don’t we take a walk and I’ll tell you?”

I agreed, and, still holding hands, he led me down the street. I had no idea where we were going, but I honestly didn’t care. I just felt so safe with him.

Grunt told me growing up, he was a tiny, frail kid who was much smaller than his four older brothers, and they had given him the nickname Runt. He couldn’t even wear their hand-me-downs because he was too small. When he graduated from high school, he stood just under 5’8” and weighed less than 100 pounds.

I found the story very hard to believe, since now one of his arms now must weigh at least that much, but he had some photos on his phone to prove it. He was one skinny mofo, and the name Runt certainly applied when you saw him standing next to his strapping he-man brothers, all of whom were at least six inches taller and 125 pounds heavier.

It got a little chilly as we continued walking, so I leaned into Grunt for warmth. “So what happened?”

The answer was that he went to college, and got assigned a roommate, Charlie, who was very into health and fitness. Charlie loved working out and encouraged Grunt to do the same, so they spent hours and hours together in the gym. Apparently, Grunt got hit with a late growth spurt during his freshman year, and another one during his sophomore year, and he sprouted up to 6 feet tall and 150 pounds by the time he was 20.

“I wasn’t that big,” he said, “but you would have thought I was Schwarzenegger by the way I strutted around.” Grunt said he started wearing sleeveless shirts to show off his 15-inch biceps, and he was always flexing for anyone who would look his way.

By the time he was a junior, Grunt had come out of the closet and started dating a bodybuilder named Michael, who took over for Charlie as his workout partner. Michael got him all the best supplements – including steroids and HGH – and helped him beef up to 225 rock-hard pounds during his senior year. “I felt like a fuckin’ beast getting to that size,” Grunt admitted, “and I just wanted more and more. Michael taught me two things: how to grow big muscles, and how to be great at sex. We would spend about 99% of our time doing one or the other.”

Grunt said he started competing in bodybuilding contests after college. By the time he was 24, he was regularly beating Michael on the competition circuit, and that made Michael really jealous. “He had hit a plateau and couldn’t get any bigger than 240,” Grunt said. “I was still able to put on mass so quickly and so easily, however, and had grown to 270. It really chapped him when I became the center of attention, so we broke up.”

My cock was tingling as he continued the story. I decided to be a tiny bit forward and placed my hand on his heavy and firm gut. “And you kept growing?” I asked.

He nodded in agreement. Bodybuilding had been good for him, but he wanted to get truly massive, and so much of the sport was about getting shredded for contests. “The dieting became a real drag, so I decided to just lift as heavy as I could and grow as big as I could. No more posing in tiny briefs for me,” he said.

“Looks like it worked,” I replied.

Grunt nodded again and continued his story. He said, at first, he tried to fill up on the same stuff he was eating while bodybuilding – lean chicken breast, broccoli, rice. But that wasn’t enough, so he started inhaling anything he could get his hands on – really calorie-laden things like pastries and pies and cakes – and the weight piled on quickly. He added that his friends started calling him Grunt instead of Runt because that was the noise he made whenever he was lifting heavy barbells or cramming food down his throat.

I started picturing Grunt growing more and more massive, and my cock started to do more than tingle a little.

“Everything suddenly became supersized as my weight climbed higher and higher. I thought 270 was big until I got to 320, and then later 370. My arms grew to 28 inches, and my chest blasted past 80 inches. I got so fuckin’ strong that I set every lifting record at my gym, Plus, my abs got buried under this amazing gut, and my ass truly exploded in size. I was blowing through all my clothes so fast that I had to order new ones almost every week.”

It was then I looked down at my own sagging moobs and soft belly, all of which were jiggling under my tight shirt as we walked. “You didn’t mind getting fat?” I asked.

“Fuck no! Not for one second,” Grunt replied. “The bigger I got, the sexier I felt. I loved putting on my underwear and feeling it stretch to the max as I struggled to get it over my thighs. I would get the biggest boners when a button would pop off my jeans, or a seam would split on my shirt. And you know what – other guys liked it, too. I was very used to men asking if they could touch my biceps, but suddenly they all wanted to grab my gut. They just could not help themselves. Even you – look where your hands are. You’ve got one on my belly and the other is squeezing my love handle.”

He was right. I was holding on to his fat like it was a life preserver and I was drowning in the ocean. And I hadn’t noticed until that point, but Grunt had slid his own hand down my back and into the waistband of my slacks, and his big strong fingers were rubbing the top of my ass crack.

Grunt continued. “It shocked me when some guys just wanted to watch me eat – can you believe that? Our “dates” consisted of me swallowing a huge meal while they either fed me or rubbed my gut – sometimes both – and then they would want me to pick them up, carry them to the bed, and fuck their brains out. All they wanted was for me to be a huge as possible so I could practically smother them with my manliness.”

I asked him how big he was now, and he said 400...for the moment. When he said the number, pre-cum was leaking out of my cock and had caused a stain to form on the crotch of my pants. I was about to explode.

Finally, we reached a swanky apartment building where Grunt lived. Apparently, he owned the nightclub where I had gone to dance – not only that one, but a string of them across the county – and was quite well-off. He asked me a question when we got there: “James, did you ever figure out why you went to my club tonight? You didn’t answer me before.”

I hesitated again. “I felt ugly when Travis dumped me, and I wanted to change that opinion of myself.”

“First of all, Travis is an idiot, just like a lot of the guys who visit my clubs. He’s obviously superficial, and he didn’t know how to treat a hot stud like you,” said Grunt as he plunged two of his sausage fingers into my ass and began massaging vigorously. “You are unbelievably sexy, James. Look at your body – I can tell you’ve been growing because your clothes are so tight. Maybe 20 or 30 pounds in the last year, right? You may tell people you need to diet, but deep inside you know you want to grow. That’s why you ordered all those appetizers this evening – you know it only makes you hotter to add all this sexy flesh. You’re getting bigger because that’s what real fuckin’ me do – we grow. We are not meant to be small. We are meant to eat what we want when we want, and we are meant to get bigger and bigger. If you stick with me, I can set you on a path to get larger and more powerful than you’ve ever imagined possible. Big muscles, big gut, big ass, big everything, James. Men’s cocks will get harder than they thought possible when they see you walking down the street, and even the straight ones will pay every dollar in their back account to spend just one night with your hulking physique. In a few years, I bet even Travis will be begging on his hands and knees for just one touch of your supersized body, but you’ll turn him down because he’s too much of a wimp, and you’ll have me, a real man at home waiting for you and all your sexiness. I’ll be there, ready to treat you like the absolute king you are.”

I came. And came. And came. And came. Had I not been holding onto Grunt, I would have fallen over right there on the sidewalk. Grunt scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing at all and asked: “You want me to take you upstairs, James? You want to me to transform you into a bull of a man who never ever feels bad about how he looks ever again?”

I relied with a very emphatic yes, and the big man carried me inside for the fucking of my life.