Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2002 16:31:44 -0500
From: XH4M <xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com>
Subject: BIG IS BETTER 16

BIG IS BETTER

By XH4M

This story is a fantasy.  All characters in this story are fictional with
no resemblance to any real persons implied.  Any reader with objections to
graphic descriptions of sexual encounters between males, who may not have
reached the legal age of consent, or whose local, regional, state or
national jurisprudence prohibits such descriptions, should NOT read
further.  Copyright (c) 2000 XH4M.  All rights, implicit or implied, except
for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual
downloading the file, are reserved.  Inquiries regarding publishing rights
for this story should be directed to: xhuge4muscl@hotmail.com


PART 16 - THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Sam paused long enough to unlock another door at the bottom of the
stairway.  It turned out to be a rear door to the gym.  Initially I had
trouble seeing much of anything in the dark room.  As I stood there letting
my eyes adjust, objects slowly became more visible.  I realized the large
room was lit somewhat by low-wattage security lights mounted around the
perimeter.  Meanwhile, Sam walked to the front of the gym and closed the
big blinds covering the large plate glass windows.  I guessed this was to
insure some privacy.  He grabbed a chair on his way back and set it down
near one edge of a raised platform.  As my eyes acclimated more, I saw the
platform was uneven lengths of what looked like steel I-beams all pushed
together forming roughly a 12' x 12' raised flat surface.  Adjacent to this
platform was a rack holding some regular-sized bars and assorted weights
like you'd see in any gym.  But there was another rack with unusually long
and much thicker bars - and those were certainly nothing like I'd ever seen
before.  They were formidable, heavy-looking things even without any added
weights.  Scattered around the floor in various places were some absolutely
gigantic iron plates stacked in piles of two's.  They were all so massive
they looked the same to me, but I surmised each paired set was probably of
differing weight.  This was BIG iron in every sense of the word, and it was
obvious they were made to be used specifically with those unusually big
bars.

"You can have a seat here, Pete," Sam said with a wink and patted the back
of the chair, "and rest up! You're gonna need it, I think.  I need to
change into somethin' else.  I'll only be a minute."

I sat down, not at all sure of what was going to happen next.  Sam
disappeared through a darkened doorway.  I heard a locker door being
opened, followed some moments later by the sound of it closing again.

Sam emerged from the doorway wearing a form-fitting Olympic-style
weightlifter's one-piece singlet, held up by straps crossing over his
shoulders from his immense chest to the back.  It was one unusually
hot-looking 'outfit,' too, especially with Sam wearing it.  The
dark-colored singlet stretched so tightly over his hulking physique it
looked as if it was spray-painted onto his body.  It would have revealed
even the most minor physical defect in any normal man's body.  But I saw
none whatsoever, all the more astonishing for a dude as huge and heavy as
Sam was.  For all of his extreme mass, his physique was artistic sculpture
- a fact his singlet now completely validated.

Sam was also wearing a thick leather belt cinched around his waist over the
singlet accentuated the large, beautiful bulge in his crotch, making it
stand out in rather bold relief.  I'd already surmised Sam was very well
hung - though more from what I'd felt in my hand before than actually seen
since it was behind me.  But the singlet now left no doubt he had one very
hot package.  As I gazed at him, the shape of Sam's body silhouetted in the
dim lights looked outrageously sexy to me.

I started ogling Sam's bared legs.  This was the first time I'd seen them
really exposed.  The lighting seemed to make them particularly stand out,
and out-standing they were; real big attention-grabbers of the highest
magnitude.  His thighs were stunningly immense, each one without any doubt
thicker than my torso.  Prominent columns of muscle flared upward from each
knee.  As Sam slowly walked forward, I took a dry gulp as I marveled at the
huge, swollen twisting striations in his thighs appearing and disappearing
with each step.  I noticed he also had a peculiar gait as he swung one
massive thigh around the other.  I'd never seen anything even remotely
resembling Sam's leg muscles before, and being so turned-on by these two
oak trees was an unexpected, thrilling surprise.  As he stepped by me onto
the platform, I wafted his sensual manly musk like a bloodhound.  I swear I
felt the floor trembling too as he passed by.

He stopped about 8 feet in front of me and turned around.

"There, Pete - this is more like it.  It's comfortable - see, this here
material stretches.  Gives me some freedom to move when I'm liftin.'"

Sam said nothing more, and just stood there absolutely motionless, as if
intentionally providing me this first chance to do nothing more than to
leisurely look him over very thoroughly.  And come to think about it, this
was the first time I'd had the opportunity to stare and gawk openly at
Sam's physique from head-to-toe.  Until this moment I'd been very close -
and often directly inside - his 'personal space' most of the time.  Sam was
way too much man to fully take in when I was that close to him.  It was
impossible to really get the 'big picture.'  Previously, we'd been involved
more-or-less in conversation, too.  There were no other distractions now -
no talking - no moving around or 'doings' of any kind - and I was at the
perfect viewing distance to finally get the full, genuine visual impact of
this man.

A big part of me screamed to do just that - to stare.  But I had this
long-standing 'rule' in my head about never looking at a guy for too long
or letting them know I was staring.  So I looked discretely, always keeping
my eyes moving and never letting them linger.  Partly, this was because it
wasn't polite I'd been told - and partly because it didn't always feel
particularly safe either.  More recently, my newest life-lesson concerning
'staring' was that when I caught a guy's eye for too long, they'd seem to
assume that also indicated I was automatically interested in them.  But
usually that wasn't the case - except for Sam, of course - because, God
knows, I could have stared at him for hours, if not days.

But I started staring automatically anyway - really hard.  I certainly
wanted to.  But after only a few seconds, I felt funny and I'd divert my
eyes to something else.  Then I'd let them wander back to Sam for a few
seconds more.  And then I'd find myself doing exactly the same thing again.
I'd find myself looking at something across the room.  This battle went on
- back-and-forth - back-and-forth - for quite awhile.  These bouncing
eyeballs of mine had also not escaped Sam's attention.

Spreading his arms out wide with his palms facing me, Sam looked right at
me and said, "Are you nervous about somethin'?  Ain't nothing to be afraid
of, really.  Go ahead Pete.  You can look at me.  I think this is somethin'
you need to kinda get out of your system anyway.  It's really OK!"

"But I am looking at you, Sam," I said defensively, knowing it was
technically correct but none-the-less only another half-truth at best.  Of
course even as I was saying this, I also automatically turned my eyes away
from him again.

And when I looked back, Sam was looking down at the floor, seeming
momentarily quite exasperated.  Then he looked up at me.

"Peter, I LIKE you for Christ sake!  And I thought you said ya liked me,
too.  There's something mighty strange goin' on here, I'm startin' to
think.  Pete, people stare at me all the time 'cause I'm different.  They
don't even know me, let alone like me.  But believe me, they definitely
ain't got NO problem lookin' at me - not at all.  They outright gawk!  And
the funny thing is - it seems you like me, but you AIN'T lookin'!  Not
really, anyway.  And I knows I like lookin' at you - a lot!  Fact is, I
can't barely take my eyes off of you, the truth be known.  And you said ya
liked muscles, right?  Well, I got big muscles... and I'm real strong too,
Pete.  Really, I am!  I knows I ain't bright, but I just don't get it.  Not
at all.  Seems if ya really liked me, Pete, then you'd be tellin' me so
with your eyes, that's all..."

Boom!  There was an atomic explosion inside of me.  Sam's words descended
on me like a building collapsing on my head.  I felt like a complete and
total jerk - and a bit of a bastard, too.  I needed to say something - and
fast.  I sensed if I did not, it would suddenly all be over - irreparably
over.  But I seemed to only be able to get words out of my mouth by talking
to my feet again.  God, I hated myself when I was like this!  Moreover, it
was also taking one giant step backwards for me.  Nevertheless, I found
myself doing it all over again - repeating the same behaviors whenever I'd
felt this way before - talking to inanimate objects whenever I had 'big
feelings' going on inside of me.  But saying something was better than
saying nothing at all.  So addressing my left sneaker, I spoke honestly
nevertheless, although my words came out painfully slowly.

"Sam, I like you - a lot.  That's really the truth.  And I want to look at
you, too.  Really, I do!  You're whole body is amazing... and God, those
muscles of yours are just... just... so unbelievably big.  Honest,
Sam... you're just... just the most handsome... the hottest... guy I've
ever seen... and God can strike me dead if I'm lying...."

Strangely, my left sneaker remained mute, but after some long moments of
silence, I heard Sam's voice.

"O.K. Then all ya have to do, Pete, is let the genie out of the bottle.
I've got big muscles, and it all right if you wan'na look at 'em, too.
It's OK that ya like 'em the way you do.  Go ahead, Pete - look as long as
ya want!  Let go... let that 'ol genie out.  I want 'cha to for me.  So,
you look up at me now, O.K.?"

I took a very deep breath, and then I pictured in my mind opening a bottle
and seeing strange-colored vapors rushing up out of it, and then I repeated
this several times more in my mind.  Something seemed to fundamentally
shift inside of me, and I thought I could trust my eyes to now more
faithfully tell Sam everything I felt about him inside.

So I slowly looked up - and what I finally was able to truly 'see' was one
hell of an eyeful, let me tell you.  For me, it was the difference between
watching Star Wars on TV versus seeing it at a movie theater.  The full
sensory impact of Sam's physique could only be experienced on my 'big
screen.'  I allowed myself to gawk openly.  I gave myself permission to
stare blatantly.  And somewhere in the middle of ogling every part of him,
I passed some point of no return.  In fact, I wondered if I could ever stop
staring!  Sam must have certainly felt the heat from my lasers searing his
skin as they scanned over every inch of him slowly, again and again.  It
didn't take a great deal of time before my continuous uninterrupted staring
was making me feel flushed.

There were muscles everywhere I looked - massive and huge, rippling,
powerful-looking things; some appearing and disappearing behind others it
seemed.  Sam hadn't lifted so much as a pencil yet, and I was turned-on
powerfully, but I know Sam fundamentally understood that already.  He knew
what made my motor run, and he possessed it all - absolutely everything
last attribute I was attracted to in a man.  On a scale of 1 to 10, I rated
Sam about 1,000.  I like my men T-D-H.  And no - I don't mean 'tall, dark
and handsome,' although he certainly was all of those.  I mean
'Totally-Developed Hunk.'  And what I saw fit all the criteria multiple
times over.  Sam was more like a 'Titanically-Developed Hunk,' in truth.

My eyes didn't waiver, and I let Sam see right into me.  And as I continued
to stare at this outrageously muscled, brutally-handsome monster standing
motionless before me, the image of Sam transformed clearly in my mind into
the 'Samson' of the Bible, whose phenomenal strength was of divine origin,
and who slew the entire Philistine Army single-handedly.  And if not
exactly like Delilah, I nevertheless craved to get into any of his gorgeous
hair, too.  Wherever it happened to be on his magnificent body, it was
perfection too, and it greatly contributed to the overall stunning impact
of this He-man.  Every aspect of this man was hotter than Hell to me, and
after visually gorging on him for only several minutes, I just 'wanted' him
- plain and simple.

And Sam had been observing my reactions - watching me watching him.  We
hadn't spoken a word in minutes, but our communication was nevertheless
honest, total and complete.  With a whimsical grin, Sam finally broke the
long silence.

"Hey- you ain't gettin' horny by any chance, are ya, Pete?"

Without waiting for an answer, he looked down and inspected his singlet
with his hands, saying something about it needing a slight adjustment.  He
reached up with each hand and simultaneously pulled up on the shoulder
straps, which effectively lifted the material at the sides of his crotch
higher.  This not only exposed more of his high upper thighs and the sides
of his groin partially, but dramatically accentuated the plunge of his
bulging basket and clearly revealed two substantial balls and his sexy
thick wand through the now more tightly-stretched material.  I knew the
He-man was toying with me, but I didn't mind his intentionally erotic
playfulness at all!

Looking right at me, he said, "There. That looks even better, don't you
think?  Hey, are ya getting horny yet, Pete?  I sure hope ya are!"

Horny?  You bet.  But I was also feeling unusually sexy myself.  I had this
new 'attitude' going inside of my head as I reminded myself to enjoy this
and 'let go.'  I felt a kind of sensual power again - something I hadn't
experienced in several years - and it felt really good.

And to capitalize on my unusual feelings, I gave myself permission to be a
little playful, too.  Besides, the entire scene - Sam's big muscles all
poured into that sexy-beyond-belief bulging singlet - was arousing me
uncontrollably anyway.  Why waste this, I thought.  I sure knew what pushed
Sam's 'on' switch.  Hell, I even had the right toy already - but there was
no way he'd ever know that wearing my usual baggy jeans.  So just how to
'communicate' this to him?  Hmmmmm....

I reached for my crotch and slowly began squeezing and suggestively rubbing
it with my hand, looking up at Sam and then back down to my crotch - saying
with my eyes, "Right here Sam.  Look right here."  Then I slowly swung my
leg out - the one containing my dick - exposing the inside for Sam's
viewing pleasure.  Then using my thumb and index finger of both hands, I
pressed down on my jeans to clearly frame the perimeters of my cock in the
leg, effectively demonstrating to Sam not only where it started and
currently ended, but also its circumference: my gesture saying
unequivocally, "Here's the whole enchilada."  Looking up again, I saw Sam
was riveted on my crotch - getting kinda glassy-eyed too - looking like
he'd start drooling if I continued this much longer.  B-I-N-G-O !

"Yeah, I'm real horny Sam.  Can you tell?"

I kneaded my fat thing slowly with my fingers, just to make sure Sam was
paying close attention.

"It feels to me like it's getting pretty big.  Oh yes - definitely feels
big!  Hey, are you getting horny yet, Sam?"

I thought we were now even, judging from the expanding bulge in the front
of his singlet.

"So Samson, I thought if I got big, you were going to get big, too."

Not that he had to grow one single centimeter anywhere to be the hottest
man I'd ever seen, but you know - promises were promises, regardless.

"Woof! Woof!"  Sam barked out like a dog repeatedly.  "Pete, you're totally
inspiring! Makes me wanna get extra-huge and then do somethin' real special
-just for your birthday.  Ya ready?"

Boy, was I ever.  For the moment anyway, the genie was out of the bottle.
I was determined to keep my eyes on him like a snowy owl would a lemming.

"My heart may not be able to stand it - but definitely go ahead anyway,
Sam.  I'll die at least with a smile... and this massive hard-on.  Come to
think of it, that might give the undertaker a real thrill with the rigor
mortis and all."

Sam guffawed with seeming disgust at my awful sense of humor, and then got
down to the serious business.  I sat up and leaned forward
enthusiastically.  There was no saliva in my mouth.  It had disappeared
completely untold minutes ago.  I sort of braced myself to see something I
knew I'd probably never see again in my life.  I was ready - focused - and
going to savor every second of what was coming.

"Go ahead Sam.  Enormou-size!"