Sweet Revenge, Part 1

Patrick Mass had just won another local bodybuilding contest and was back at home with his trophy. He had been dieting for weeks to make sure he was as lean as possible (and the win had made all the dieting worthwhile), but now he was absolutely starving. All he could think about was spending a few days eating and drinking whatever he wanted.

He caught a glimpse of his body in the hall mirror – his tight white t-shirt really showed off all his muscles, especially his beefy pecs and bulging biceps, and his jeans looked painted on to his thick thighs. Patrick smiled at his great physique, hit a quick ‘most muscular’ pose, and then went upstairs to change into sweatsuit he liked to wear during his bulking up phase in the off-season. 

Ten minutes later he was at Hoss’s Steakhouse eating like a man possessed. He scarfed down 3 rolls and 4 pieces of cornbread, 2 orders of fried calamari appetizers, a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, an entree-sized salad, a 20 ounce steak with a side of French fries, and three pieces of chocolate pie for dessert. Patrick was completely STUFFED when he left the restaurant.

As he waddled back to the car, Patrick put his hands on his belly – it was stretched as far out as it could be, but was still rock hard. "Oh my God, I am so full,” he thought. “But it felt great to really eat instead of just having a few stalks of celery and a glass of water for dinner.”

Patrick was incredibly tired upon returning to his house and decided to turn in early. He took off his clothes and threw them to the floor, played with his new gut for a few seconds, and then climbed into his bed naked.

This routine continued for the next two weeks – Patrick ate and ate and ate whatever he could get his hands on. And he was ecstatic to be invited over to his neighbor’s house for a pool party knowing there would be even more food for him to scarf down. He found some clothes that fit – an old t-shirt that clung to his ever-expanding gut, and a pair of swimming trunks that barely fit over his growing butt, and headed next door.

After stuffing his face for an hour at the outdoor buffet, Patrick saw a ruggedly handsome man enter the party. He was tall, about 6'4", and had deeply tanned skin – not a fake tan like all the bodybuilders Patrick had competed against, but rather one that came from a life outdoors in the sun. His large head was crowned with a lion's mane of black hair, and he also had a black mustache and thick beard.

The man was wearing a white t-shirt and white swimming trunks that clung to his hyper-muscular body, and Patrick could see he had dark hair covering his arms and legs, as well as a few tufts sticking out of the collar on his shirt.

"Wow," thought Patrick. "He's got the build of a muscleman, but he looks so different than most bodybuilders. No fake tan, no waxed body, and muscles that are clearly not just for show. Like a modern-day Hercules."

The hirsute hunk walked around and chatted with guests, and eventually walked right up to Patrick and introduced himself. "Hey there. I'm Gus. Just moved in down the block."

Patrick reached out his hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm Patrick from next door. So what do you do, Gus?"

"I sell cars. How about you?"

Patrick thought about what he should say. He quickly glanced down as his big gut and said, "I'm a bodybuilder."

Gus chortled at the response. "You? A bodybuilder?"

Patrick puffed out his flabby chest as much as possible and tried to suck in his gut. "Yeah, I haven't been training much lately, but I've been pretty successful at it."

"Successful?" asked Gus. He poked Patrick in the gut and then grabbed his fat. "I wouldn't really define this big ol' sack of lard as 'successful' for a bodybuilder. Seems like you're sort of a failure."

Patrick didn't know how to respond, so he just kept quiet.

Gus laughed again, then flexed his massive biceps. "This is how I define successful. These guns. And my ripped abs. And my incredibly tight ass. I've got a perfect, drool-worthy body that you can only dream about, chubs. And judging by the size of the erection you got goin' on, you're dreamin' about it right now, right?"

Patrick again kept quiet, but he did adjust his hands to cover his hard-on.

Gus took a step closer. "Well, you should be embarrassed about your weight, fatso, but not that I'm turning you on. Everybody loves my body and wants to sleep with me. And I don't mind sayin' that I like to take guys like you to bed with me. All that extra padding in the seat is better for the plungin', and I get off seeing how much better I look than fat guys with all my clothes off. So what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" asked Patrick.

"You want to go to bed with me? I only live a few houses down, and I guarantee I will rock your world. And trust me, with your fat ass this is the best offer you're ever gonna get."

Patrick instantly decided to say yes and go home with Gus. But not only because the man was ferociously attractive and masculine, but also to teach him a lesson. "Keep your friends close," he thought, "but keep your enemies closer."

Gus grinned when Patrick accepted his invitation, placed his meaty paws on Patrick's shoulders, and turned him toward the back gate. He then pushed on Patrick's back, and the ex-bodybuilder got the message he was supposed to walk out the gate. Gus followed right behind, so close that Patrick could feel his breath of his neck. "I just can't wait to drive my monster cock into that big ass of yours, fatty."

They had walked about half a block when Patrick felt Gus's hands tugging at his shirt. Before he could stop the big Greek, Gus had torn it off his torso, revealing Patrick's bloated frame.

Gus threw the scraps of fabric on the sidewalk and began fondling Patrick's fat. "Look at all the flab, Jumbo. Good Lord, when was the last time you did a sit-up?"

Patrick was mortified that his neighbors could see him at his all-time worst level on conditioning, but he pretended not to care. "My name is Patrick, and I do sit-ups all the time."

"Hard to tell, Fatrick. Hard to tell. I barely have to do sit-ups and I still have an eight-pack. Can you believe it? I guess my body naturally wants to be muscular, and yours apparently wants to be fat."

Gus's statement suddenly gave Patrick an idea. "I'm going to stick like glue to this guy so I can trick him into becoming really, really fat," thought Patrick. "He's going to regret making fun of me."

Less than a minute later, the duo had arrived at Gus's house, which was a little smaller than the others in the neighborhood but still very nice. Patrick didn't have time to see much of it, however, because the big Greek hustled him into the bedroom and easily tossed him on the bed.

Within seconds, Patrick was completely enveloped by the intoxicating musk of Gus as the strongman jumped on top of him. Clothes flew all over, and suddenly Gus's rod was penetrating Patrick's backside, sending waves of pleasure into the ex-bodybuilder. Gus came quickly, and Patrick assumed he would be a selfish lover and fall right asleep.

On the contrary, Gus then flipped Patrick over and began fondling his cock, making sure to also caress Patrick's belly and tell him how hot he was. It was then Patrick's turn to quickly erupt, and then he assumed it would all be over.

But Gus was insatiable – clearly he had the stamina to go along with all of his brute strength. He just came and came and came all afternoon, and he did everything is his power to make sure that Patrick was sexually satisfied as well.

A few hours later, Gus finally drifted off. Patrick was panting hard after the intense activity and would have also fallen asleep if the sex hadn't been so mind-blowing for him – it was easily the most powerful sensations he had ever experienced, and he knew he wanted to do it again as soon as they had both re-charged.

Patrick began to re-think his earlier plan: should he still try to trick Gus into getting fat? What if the added weight made it harder for him to have great sex? What if he started getting winded easily and cut back on the ferocity of his love-making?

"No, I need to stick to the plan, otherwise Gus will just keep taking advantage of and making fun of other fat guys."

Patrick wrestled with his decision for a few minutes, then ultimately decided to continue with the plan to turn Gus into a big blob. He didn't have much time to think about, however, before he succumbed to physical exhaustion and fell sound asleep.

He awoke about 8 hours later as the morning sun streamed into the bedroom. Gus was still deep in slumber, so Patrick quietly slipped out from under the comforter, got dressed, and went into the kitchen.

"I've got to figure out how to make him fat....maybe I could slip some weight gain powder into his supplements?" thought Patrick. He looked around but didn't find any, which the ex-bodybuilder thought was odd. "How could he create such a fantastic physique without whey protein or creatine?"

Patrick continued to rummage through the pantry when Gus's deep voice startled him. "What are you looking for, Chubs? A bag of cookies?"

The ex-bodybuilder turned and saw Gus standing right behind him with a wicked smile on his face. He was still buck naked and looked even more impressive than the evening before; his muscles seemed fuller, almost bulging out of his skin, and his massive cock was semi-hard and dangling a few feet from Patrick.

"Um, I was looking for some food. I thought I might make you breakfast."

"Well, what the fuck you looking in the cabinet for? I’ll take a 6-egg ham and cheese omelet and a steak, all of which you'll find in the fridge."

"Oh, okay,"" said Patrick. "I'll get right on it. You want me to make you a protein smoothie, or maybe add some creatine to your omelet?"

Gus laughed. "You think powders built this body? God, what a fuckin' loser you are. Real food built these muscles, Chump. Red meat made me a stud...not some shortcuts that come in a can. I know you fat-asses are always looking for a magic pill to turn you into superhunks, but they don't exist. You gotta work for your muscles or end up looking like you. Now hurry up and make me some food while I shower. I'm fuckin' starving."

The big Greek then left the kitchen and headed back toward his bedroom, and Patrick started working on breakfast. He made the exact items Gus ordered, and also made the same for himself.

He placed both plates on the table, and Gus came back just at that moment. He was wearing a very tight dress shirt that hugged his muscles and a pair of slacks in which the outline of his cock could easily be seen. He looked at both servings and said, "You made a plate for yourself? Sorry, fatty, the protein is for studs only."

Patrick's mouth fell open. "But I worked so hard on making us the perfect breakfast. And I'm starving from last night."

Gus took a big bite of the omelet, swallowed, and smiled. "Correction, Pudge, you made me a perfect breakfast. I didn't say you could have any of this protein. Besides, look at you. It isn't your chest or arms that's about to hulk out of that shirt – it's your gut. Only guys built like real men need this kind of food. Why don't you see if one of my previous lovers left some pastries in the bread box? You like pastries, right? They’re all soft and doughy, just like you."

Patrick sighed. "Would you mind if I just had a bite? It smells so good."

The massively muscular Greek took another generous helping of the omelet and then put down his fork. He put his big right arm up in front of his latest conquest and flexed his bicep, which swelled up in size. "Feel this."

Patrick gently put his hand on top of the muscle. which was warm and hard.

"Fuck, don't be a pussy....really feel it."

Patrick began to caress the bicep more affectionately, and he remembered how hard his muscles used to be. He rubbed it all over and tried to make a dent in it, but the bicep was just too powerful.

"Now that's more like it," said Gus. "I need protein to keep these muscles big and strong. They need it. They crave it. Look at your arms."

Patrick looked down at his once-magnificent set of arms and sighed again. Gus unflexed his arm and grabbed Patrick's bicep, which he easily manhandled. "No strength. No power. Just a big, fat, weak guy who will always be that way. No sense wasting good protein on your body. So the answer is no, you can't have any. But I will say this is the best goddamn omelet I have ever had. If you can make me food like this all the time, I'll let you keep enjoying the power of my muscles as they grow bigger and bigger."

Gus finished his omelet, order Patrick to clean up the mess, and headed to his job at the car lot. Patrick did as he was told, all the while trying to figure out how he could turn the tables on his new lover.