Thirst trap

by Lou Garou 78

 A dose of spiked juice turns a gym bro into his neighborhood cops’ biggest fan.

Added: Mar 2022 4,774 words 4,679 views 4.8 stars (6 votes) This story was submitted as is and was not edited.

I

I live in Boystown.

I’m not, gay—that’s not why I live here.

I’m an immigrant from the Middle East, and the diversity of this neighborhood means I don’t stick out like I would in other, more midwestern, areas of Chicago. Nope, in Lakeview, I fight right in. It might help that I’m a total gym rat, and so when I do get attention, it’s not the dangerous kind. Let’s be honest, women don’t openly appreciate me on the street like the guys do, and there’s nothing like being whistled at by a gay gym bro to confirm my progress in the weight room.

End of day, after my workout, I like to swing by the local juice bar and pick something up to rehydrate while walking home. Lift, drink, eat, sleep. Repeat. Today was pecs, delts, and arms and as I entered I caught my reflection in the door. I was looking pretty yoked in my tank top—fucking yoked, actually.

The café was almost empty, except for those two cops. Yeah, I recognized them. They go to my gym. They’re beasts. Officer One looks Italian, is always chewing gum—even when lifting—and has definitely hit the bodybuilding stage for years. I know when he’s comp prepping ‘cause I’ll catch him in one of the yoga studios posing for his partner in a spangled thong. Not as much fun as peeking in on a group of yoga chicks with their ankles behind their heads, but pretty damned impressive.

I mean, it’s completely ridiculous, but I gotta say, when he muscle checks, he looks amazing. I don’t want to prance around practically naked on a stage, stained brown and shaved and slicked up with oil, but to be as stacked as him is definitely my end game.

His partner, Officer Two, is shorter, blond, and built like a tank. Def Chicago Irish. While One is dialing the shit in on the machines and hitting the circuit training, Two hits the Oly lifts in the racks and has thick-ass muscles and a broad frame to show for it.

He grunts like a fucking animal, and the loads he throws around make those barbells bend.

Awesome.

Still, I’d rather look like One, and probably will someday—just need more size.

In fact, I’d def hang with them, except they’re cops…and they’re gay.

I’d never have guessed except one time I went into the steam room and caught Two with his face buried in One’s crotch, growling and choking on what must have been a pretty meaty dick. One saw me enter, and instead of trying to hide what was happening, he winked at me and smiled. I noticed Two was also hard as a rock and saw a string of pre-cum dripping towards the floor. Total cocksucker, there.

Not that I looked very long.

As I turned and left One began to huff and pant. The door thumped shut on the steam room before he wrapped things up. I knew what that was. I holler a lot too when I come.

All guys do when they’re busting a good nut.

His must’ve been great.

So there they were, in the café, in their blues. Thick forearms and veined biceps the only bare skin this time. One winked and smiled at me.

Great. They definitely recognize me.

I nod my head and order my juice.

Cute blonde number takes my name and order. Tina.

I wait for it checking my delts in the mirror behind the counter. I got a new vein forking up the right one. It really pops with a bicep flex. Yep, I’m jacked today. By the time it arrives, I gotta piss something fierce. My pre-workout drink’s tearing right though me. No choice. It can’t wait. I debate for a sec, then walk up to the two cops. Ask if they’ll keep an eye on my drink when I head to the men’s room.

No worries.

I go piss, wash my hands, check myself in the mirror. Great pump today.

Head back out.

I grab my juice, thank the two guys, and starting drinking while walking home.

Damn, it’s good. Thick and sweet.

Tina must have a thing for me. She put in a pump of some syrup for free. Nice.

I look at the cup.

Nope, no digits. I’ll just have to thank her in person.

I get home and start walking up the steps of my three flat. That’s when I start to feel strange. A light-headed rush, like I took too much ephedrine before hitting the iron. I feel a rush of heat and my chest feels like it’s swelling.

By the time I’m at the second floor my pecs feel incredible. They’re so full my tank top is pulling against the underside of my lats. Fuck, I got jacked today on the bench!

I stop and look down.

What the hell? Not only is my chest so thick it’s all I can see, but its hair is no longer cropped short but curling over the edges of the tank top. Black and curly and dense, especially in the middle.

That’s fucked up.

And hot.

Like, really, really hot.

By the time I reach my door, I feel a bit woozy, and as I rummage around in my gym bag for my keys, I see my nipples poking against white cotton. It’s not cold today—this is summer in Chicago.

Still, my tits are hard as rock.

Hard little titties.

With my free hand, before thinking about it, I reach up and tweak one of them.

Wow.

I do it again. Greedy little tit needs more.

My cock agrees. It just woke up.

What the fuck?

I push into my apartment to get out of the hallway before anyone sees me—this is crazy.

Fuck!

Standing in my entry I look at full-length mirror I use to muscle check myself.

I’m not sure it’s actually me!

My tank top’s about to quit—my muscles are getting so thick, so pumped, so full its straps are digging into my traps. God, they’re huge! They’re piling up from my swelling delts and almost up to my ears. I look like a bull.

A slutty little bull.

I laugh at the thought, barely bothered that I just called myself a slut.

Dude, that’s not how a straight guy thinks about himself.

I look back to the mirror.

Hairy, slutty little muscle bull…

My waist is tighter than it’s ever been and my pecs look absolutely enormous. They’re so plumped up that my tank top is creased beneath their overhang, the cotton straining to contain all this hot new muscle.

Man, I gotta take this thing off.

I cross my arms and reach down to pull it over my head, and immediately there’s a problem. It gets halfway up when the fabric bunches up and catches under my flaring torso. My biceps are so thick they’re making the movement nearly impossible and the left one with its thick double vein is so round and hard—shoved into my face—that I pause and give it a kiss. Then a long, slow lick. The skin is hot and salty. I nip with my teeth and suckle the rock hard muscle for a bit, nearly giving myself a hickey on its peak.

Wow, I’m fucking hot.

Hot little muscle bull.

One final tug on the tank top and all that happens is my left pec pops free. Thick and heavy and full, the muscle bounces once and swells proudly, free from constraint. I feel cool air run across my nipple and look in the mirror. It’s darker and thicker and fully erect. I swear the aureole has even grown, though it’s not easy to tell with the thick, glossy hair that has sprung back and is, once again, covering the full expanse of my widening chest. The left tit is shiny and hard while the right one’s pressing insistently against the cotton that’s stubbornly stuck on all this inflating meat.

The sight of my swollen tits makes my mouth water.

What the fuck is going on?

Who am I?

Whatever… Damn, look at this bod! Fucking Woof!!

I bust out a double bicep pose. Every single muscle on my arms pop. My delts are marbled with veins, and the bicep heads are fully separated and peaked as fuck. Their thickly corded veins dance and slide around as I flex, moving beneath the skin. The left arm still has a pink mark where I worked it over with my mouth. The right arm must be jealous. I bring it in to give it its own set of licks and nips and gentle sucks with my lips.

So hot.

I’m sure I showered at the gym, but all this heat and extra beef have me sweating and stinking like an animal. That’s when I realize it’s not just my chest hair that’s coming back in. I always keep my pits shaved to check my muscle insertions while doing overhead lifts at the gym, but man, they’re once again filled with shiny black hair, wet and slick with the sweat I’m working up.

Fucking hot.

Nope, I won’t be shaving these anytime soon.

I inhale my own musk.

Yep, I’m I hairy little muscle bull, and I’m getting good and randy.

This tank top isn’t coming off. Fuck. I need some help.

What you need is a real man.

I towards the door to my apartment, alarmed. I hadn’t closed it, and there they were, One and Two, stepping through into my place, leering at me. One’s voice, so low and resonant, made my cock jump and my anus twitch—fuck, what’s going on now!?

O’Brien, why don’t you help our friend with his tank top, he said before pressing up behind me, leaning in and whispering in my ear, you don’t want to be dressed around us anymore, do you?

No, sir, I whimpered, feeling ready to piss again.

His hot breath on my neck, and his powerful cologne overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help it. I whimpered again and pushed my ass right into his crotch while he chuckled. I wasn’t even freaking out anymore by my new behavior. I was down with this.

O’Brien was in front of me and pulled off my tank top, whistling at the sight of my freed pecs and their throbbing nips—the whorls of black chest chair that met in the middle and ran down the crevices between my abs.

Damn, Renzi you should see this chest. He really responded.

If his tits came in anything like this ass did…he trailed off as he slipped both hands beneath my elastic waist band and began to knead my furry glutes. Jesus, they felt dense and thick in his hands as he worked them over. My body reacted immediately. I could feel a swell of pre-cum, not urine, start to seep down my cock and noticed a bizarre feeling in my ass.

O’Brian, you owe me twenty bucks.

Oh yeah? Why’s that, his buddy asked as he unbuttoned his uniform.

Our little slut here doesn’t have any underwear on.

O’Brien scoffed while stripping off his shirt, you always call it, he said.

We’ll have to give him a jock after this.

My shorts fell to the floor, and Renzi slipped a finger into my crack.

He’s already wet.

Already? Damn, he is a fast responder!

What? I’m sorry, sir, I said, should I—

Renzi laughed.

You’re supposed to be, it’s the syrup working, now bend over a bit and get working on O’Brien—he didn’t take his shirt off for nothing.

Yes, sir, I said as I shoved my ass into Renzi’s hands. His index finger was now right up against my anus and swirling around the lube my hungry little hole was now producing.

God, this was amazing.

I focused on O’Brien’s chest. It was completely hairless. The rippling swells of muscle were smooth and white as marble, their deep shelf overhanging his blocky abs. On their underside, in the space between pec and ab, I could see his pale pink teats, pert and shiny and looking like gum drops pointing straight down.

A clear string of pre fell from my piss slit and ribboned all the way down to the floor—the shiny gob at its end splattered loudly. First my ass, then my cock, and now my mouth was drooling. I wiped away some saliva with the back of my hand, and pulled O’Brien’s left tit into my mouth.

I was made for this.

The soft pink flesh was warm against my lips. I held it gently between my teeth and ran the tip of my tongue back and forth across its end while instinctively sucking, my nose buried in his pectoral and my bearded jaw grazing his upper abs.

He moaned.

More pre fell from the end of my dick.

I nipped.

He yelped.

My own tits were throbbing with anticipation by now—ready but frustrated. I wriggled my ass as Renzi toyed my anus with a thumb. I ran a trail of slobber across the base of O’Brien’s huge pecs to the right nipple and began working on that one.

I was rewarded.

O’Brien reached down and pinched my trembling nipples, twisting each teat with stunning force.

I whimpered and bleated, burying my face into the dense muscle of his chest. His skin was soft and smelled of soap.

A steady stream of pre was now dripping from my cock.

This was heaven!

Our hairy little muscle slut here almost has me ready to come, and my fly’s not even undone, said O’Brien.

Renzi snorted. What’re you waiting for? Mine is.

It’s true, I had heard him fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper and now something much larger than a thumb was pressing against my butthole—his powerful hands had moved up and gripped my waist. He was now guiding me. Steering me.

Owning me.

The pressure against my hole increased, hard and hot and insistent. I had a moment of lucidity and was suddenly so scared I gripped O’Brien’s lats and whimpered. No need. With a slick, smooth pop, Renzi’s massive glans pushed past my anus, causing it to spasm. The bolt of pleasure made me gasp. My eyes rolled back into my head and my knees trembled.

I pushed back against Renzi’s stiff rod and immediately took in several inches of its wide shaft.

I gasped.

The two men laughed.

Whoa, there, careful, you’ll never get all of this in that fast. Help out O’Brien and give yourself some time to adjust.

Yeah, I’m ready for you now, he said.

He was.

I had a problem.

I was now eye level with his cock, and could see it was going to be a hard fit. Could I get his head in my mouth? The shaft projected right at me and even foreshortened from this vantage point, was enormous. Girthy and veiny, it looked as hard and unyielding as stone, the corona of its head pulsed and throbbed angrily with primal energy. It was flared and shiny and his slit was magnified by a pearl of pre cum.

I stuck out my tongue and caught the drop on its tip—sugared seawater.

I want more. I need all of it!

I parted my lips and started to swallow his cock. Right then Renzi thrusted—bucking and shoving the entirety of his dick deep into my ass. My whole body lurched and O’Brien’s dick went right down my throat—gag free and drowning in saliva.

My nose was deep in his blonde pubes, I could feel the stubble of Renzi’s shaved crotch scratching against the wet fur of my crack. I tried to swallow but couldn’t—O’Brien’s cock so fully filled my throat all it did was squeeze down on his massive shaft. He moaned and his balls, lolling against my chin, jumped up. His pulled my head into his groin, his fists tugging on my hair.

I did it again.

That was when the pounding began. Renzi began rhythmically ramming his rod into me, huffing and grunting with each thrust. With each push his crotch spread my ass wider, and I trembled every time his hard peen knocked against my prostrate, saw sparks as the shaft slid back and forth alongside it. The cold metal of his buckled slapped regularly against my burning ass cheek.

God he was deep. He was wrecking my hole.

It would have been a gaping maw by now, but somehow I was made to do this and it stayed tight and firm, rhythmically gripping and squeezing him each time he slammed his shaft all the way in. I wanted to howl with ecstasy but I was being spit roasted by a pair of stallions and my mouth was no different than my ass right now—a wet, hungry orifice dedicated to servicing alpha studs. All I could do was splutter around O’Brien’s cock and form the simplest of thoughts with my hormone-addled mine.

Fuck me.

Wreck me.

Breed me.

Own me.

O’Brien began to pant. His pubes were damp from the thick rings of slobber I was coating his shaft with. The sweat running down his abs—dripping off his tits—was coating my forehead, pressed into the wall of his muscle gut. He was close now, I could smell the testosterone laced musk wafting off his crotch. He grunted and gurgled, his whole body stiffened and he choked on his breath for a second. As he released he slid his cock halfway out of my mouth so his head, engorged and flaring could dump its load right in the middle my tongue.

Fuck, yeah!

He bellowed as his balls pumped his thick, sticky cum into my mouth. Again and again his dick erupted, the underside of his shaft pulsed against my lower lip as he filled me up with creamy seed. He groaned and shook, his hips quivered and shimmied in my grip.

He relaxed, caught his breath and released my hair.

A moment later, while I was still rocking under Renzi’s rhythmic pounding, he placed a hand under my chin, gripping my jaw tight, his thumb lightly choking me just above my Adam’s apple. Slowly his massive rod slid from my mouth, slapping wetly against his tightened scrotum and the inside of his thigh.

He sighed with contentment and chuckled. I heard him and Renzi give each other a high five above my back.

I win, he said to his buddy. Our boy knows how to work a tool.

He slapped me gently on the cheek with his free hand, bent over and looked me straight in the eyes.

Don’t swallow, and DON’T spit.

I grinned widely. Not a chance in hell, I thought, this is my first mouthful of jizz, and I’m holding on to it.

He kneeled as I swished his cum around with my tongue, thick and slippery against my teeth. My mouth was so full of his salty spunk that a gob of it slipped down my throat, I almost swallowed but his hand squeezed and blocked me.

Hold on, he said, bringing his gorgeous face close. He pressed his lips against mine and slowly his wet, muscular tongue parted them and slipped into my mouth. My own, slightly spooned to hold his cum where I could taste it best, flattened out against his, and slowly, methodically he began to suck and slurp his own ejaculate, swallowing and humming with satisfaction.

When he’d almost emptied my mouth of his sperm—and I realized I’d get none of it—I swallowed—defiantly. I felt instant guilt.

Sorry, I mumbled.

He smiled, patted me on the cheek, and wiped a drop of cum from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. He fed it back to me and spoke as I suckled contentedly.

It’s OK, you done good, boy. Real good.

He was now kneeling, and let me drape my forearms on his shoulders, thick and hot and slick with exertion. He ran his fingers along my hairy gut and gripped me with both hands.

Holy fuck.

My cock and balls were huge—they easily filled both of his massive hands! Soft velvety skin slid warmly against his palms. He squeezed the base of my cock. The girth was stunning, the heft of my genitals as they lolled around in his grip was unbelievable. For a moment I thought I was pissing, but it was just the steady stream of sweet, clear syrup running out the end of my dick like a faucet.

Hey, Renzi, you doing your job back there? Our boy’s totally soft.

Fuck you, the stud mounting me said, I gave him a sub shot, he won’t get hard unless I tell him to and he won’t come unless I do.

You’re such an ass, sometimes, Renzi. I Swear.

O’Brien released my junk which fell heavily, bouncing and swinging again with the slow rhythm of Renzi’s pounding. He looked at me apologetically but saw I had no complaints at all. He repositioned my arms on his shoulders, and spread his kneeling stance. His cock was also swinging freely between his thighs—though seemed to be chubbing up again.

OK, Renzi, I got’im braced. Go for it, and then to me, softly, get ready bud.

I nodded as Renzi hollered and drove his pile deeper than ever before with the full force of his bodybuilt frame. I yelped and lurched towards O’Brien but he was solid enough that he resisted, firm muscle and soft skin bracing against the blows as Renzi rammed and drove and pushed faster and harder, harder and faster. I was moaning and yelping and whimpering with pleasure, he was huffing grunting and cussing. His massive hands were kneading my glutes—spreading my cheeks as wide as they’d go, stretching my hole taught. Ribbons of pre were spinning from my cock as it windmilled around, my mouth was gaping—cum-laced drool dribbling into my beard.

With each thrust I could hear the base of his cock squelch against my self-lubricating hole, twitching and throbbing and dripping under the onslaught of pounding cock and flexing muscle. His sweat was falling onto the small of my back as his hot breath puffed across my hairy traps. A rope of warn saliva splashed onto the bunched up muscles of my shoulders.

I arched my back and squeezed my glutes as Renzi slammed me again and again. My head dropped lower with fatigue as he pushed us both to climax. I was now looking down O’Brien’s hairless gut, his chunky wall of abs rolling around as it absorbed each shove that Renzi transferred through my body to his. He blond cock was fully up again, it’s mushroom glans vivid pink and glossy with yet more pre cum. I dropped my mouth open, my tongue straining to reach his once-again aching prick but it was too low. Instead, saliva fell from my mouth and glazed its veiny shaft.

Renzi howled, his cock rubbing thickly and insistently against my prostrate, and somewhere in the depths of my rectum, he pushed against an internal ring of muscle—a g-spot I didn’t know existed, and blew his load.

I joined him.

My vision went blurry, my ears hissed and I bucked and rocked as wave after wave of orgasmic convulsions made my cry out and whine like the owned little bitch I had just become. My head was hanging low, my tongue lolling out of my mouth as I saw my own cock, thick as a hose and just as soft, splashing gouts of gummy semen into the puddle of clear precum that had spread across the floor during this mind bending fuck.

Renzi roared triumphantly, like some crazed minotaur, released his vice like grip on my hips and slapped me once on the ass as he slowly, smoothly extracted his meat from my still trembling asshole. A shimmy, and a chuckle, as he jimmied his cockhead against my anus twice before letting the entire length of glossy flesh slump free. It swung ponderously away and fell against the velvet of his balls. I felt cool air rush into my now gaping cunt and saw a thick rope of cum slip from the slit of his cock. Clear lube and cum started to slip out of me, running along my taint and down the inside of my thighs, but Renzi, panting and lathered, slipped his thumb into my ass. Immediately my hole contracted and I sealed his seed inside myself. He stroked my hole with the side of his hand a few times, and patted me gently on the ass.

He had me mewling in total submission.

O’Brian placed his hand under my chin and lifted my head up. He gave me a gentle kiss on the lips before standing—lifting me with him—trembling and weak-kneed. He stepped forward and pressed into me until my still thickening body hair scratched against his silky muscles. He smiled kindly as one of my feet slipped in the pool of fluids we’d dumped on the wood floor. Renzi caught me as he pressed in from the back, the nylon of his shirt rubbed against my skin, the soft skin of his cock and the stubble of his pubis pressing against my sex-slicked ass.

O’Brien’s cock, once again at full mast, slipped wetly into the groove of one of my cum gutters, getting gently mashed between our hip bones. He huffed contentedly. My own cock, heavy and thick hung down, soft but nearly to my knees, still dripping fluid on the floor.

There I stood, panting and whining as the two cops wrapped me in a double hug of pumped muscle and heat, our male scents mixing together and smelling stronger than a stable full of rutting beasts.

Oh thank you, sirs, I said. That was incredible.

You’re our best success so far, said Renzi, jamming his sweaty crotch playfully against my wrecked ass. Hot little muscle slut.

Bull, I’m your hot little muscle bull.

O’Brian laughed, said, if you want—you’re our hot little muscle bull.

And you own me.

And we own you.

Renzi ground his genitals against me one more time before saying, now, why don’t you show us where you bed is? We can clean up in the morning. Right now, I need to strip off these clothes and get some sleep.

He wore you out, huh buddy?

Oh yeah, he’s a success all right—our slutty little muscle bull.

You’re staying for more? I asked, hopefully.

You have no idea, was the reply, from both cops, in unison.

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