Practical MAGIC : LIVIN LA VIDA LOCA by ONIX
Hey guys tried to do something different with this story- it’s
not a Black Magic story and it’s a little darker then my usual so tell me what
you think- the e-mail is SpellBoundOnix@hotmail.com
Oh yeah and BEWARE_ HYPNOSIS- GAY PEOPLE- AND SEX!!!!
I wasn’t always like this…
but Steve…I mean my Master says I won’t be able to remember any of that in a
little while. He tells me that as soon as I finish writing this, he’s going to
make me forget about everything except what he wants me to remember. A part of
me is grateful that I won’t…that’s the part that Master created. The real me
wants to fight and try to reclaim my life from Master’s control but then I see
my reflection in a shop window or a car mirror and I know it’s hopeless. I try
to escape but I feel the weight of my legs and take one look at master’s
beautiful jaw and I forget all about it. I can’t even remember how I even used
to be. Well I remember I just don’t really understand it. My name Used to be
Jonathan Shamrock. It’s not anymore. This is his story. Master says I should
write it down so I can start a new story in my new life.
I met Steve about 7 months ago during my
Christmas break. I was out with my current girlfriend at the time. I think her
name was Faith or Hope or something ridiculous like that. I had a taste for
bimbo’s with heavy packaging. I don’t remember much about her personality but I
do remember she had to very big assets, which she always displayed in the most
ludicrously low cut blouses. I had taken her out to my favorite bar so I could
watch the last Basketball game of the weekend, ply her with alcohol and then
fuck her drunken brains out before my live in girlfriend Amanda was any the
wiser.
I pretty much had the pick of the litter
conidering I was 6’2 in shape and rich. My dark Irish good looks and black hair
made look like the boy next door wich was usualy enough to get any girl to
agree to a drink.
The particular bimbo I decided to entertain
that night turned out to be one of those surprise packages. You know the kinda
of Girl who looks like Pamela Anderson but grills you like Gillian Anderson?
Yeah she had brains to go with her big tits and blonde hair. Needless to say
she quickly saw through my college jock wam bam thank ya mam routine. And shit
was she pissed. She started calling me a pig and very carefully explaining to
me that women are not to be treated like a moments diversion and that to think
you can just give a dumb girl a drink and automatically fuck her just cause
your rich and good-looking is ridiculous.
She might have made me a little angrier than
I was ready for because then I yelled back at her that if I wanted to treat her
like a fuck doll I could. I had the looks, the money and the intelligence. I
think that’s when the drink went flying in my face. I was so shocked that the
bitch actually threw her drink at me that I automatically brought my hand up to
grab her. I really didn’t want to hit her I mean I had no conscious intention
of it, I just instinctively reacted. Guess that’s all that heterosexual male
testosterone taking over…
Well things got worse from their man. As
soon as my hand came up this big Mexican bouncer grabbed my forearm. The chick
split in disgust and I was left with this big dirty spic bar mop holding me. I
told him to take his fucking dirty hands off me. Which just made the gorilla
even angrier. He told me if I didn’t behave he was going to toss me out of the
bar on my ear. And I told him that I could by and sell his goddamn Caribbean
ass so he better watch his wet back tongue.
It’s true my parents god rest their luckless
souls left me a hefty trust fund to pay for med. school. The unlucky bastards
went down in some two seater coming back from vacation up north one morning
like 15 years ago. Which I guess is pretty tragic but the good part of the deal
is I get all their savings and non of their supervision.
The Mexican looked real pissed at the slurs
but I was drunk with blue balls and a bruised ego. So I told him to let go of
me or I’d call INS and have his border-jumping ass deported s fast they
wouldn’t even have time to tell his wife and twenty kids. And I told him in
Spanish. It’s one of the languages I’m fluent in.
Finally the bartender interceded and
convinced the brute that “I wasn’t worth it.” My parting shot however was to
answer back that I was worth him and twenty of his dishwashing brothers. What
can I say I was one funny guy right?
That’s where Steve came in…literally. I was
washing beer off of my Abercrombie Sweater when this 30-ish body builder came
into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He wasn’t one of those huge
freakish bodybuilders but he was big enough for me to notice. He was wearing a
very neutral sweatshirt and jean combo with a pulled down baseball cap hiding
his eyes.
He quietly went over and used a urinal,
ignoring me at the sinks. So I went back to washing my shirt and muttering
under my breath. When he came over to wash his hands however I saw the two most
beautiful green eyes swimming under the shadows of his ball cap.
He looked up at me with a very welcoming
grin and said “quite a show out there, huh?” I answered back yeah. I don’t know
but something about this guys grin and green eyes totally disarmed me. He saw
all that and was still nice to me? That was real cool, I guess.
He gave me a really long look and asked me
if I had meant everything I had said out there. I thought about it and gave
non-chalant shrug. I guess I did, I mean I didn’t really think it mattered or
not. So I answered yes. He sighed and gave me an amused disapproving frown and
shook his head.
And then the dude did the funniest thing, he
asked me if I like his watch.
I looked at it for a second and noticed how
shinny it was and how it kind of gave off little lights in patterns from the
inside.
He told me to look at it closely because
there was something inscribed on the surface. I told him I couldn’t make
anything out because the lights from inside it were making my eyes all unfocused.
I did and the more I stared at it the harder it was to see anything at all.
Then Steve began to talk to me in a very
soothing tone that made me feel like the words were melting in the air around
me. I just kind of floated there for a second staring at the watch and
listening to this total stranger’s voice. His voice was just so comforting it
almost made me want to go to sleep, right their in a bar bathroom.
I can’t remember what exactly he said…just
bits and pieces…something about ridiculous attitude and spoiled brat…Racist son
of a….and sexist mosagonist ego driven basta...like I said I cant really
remember.
“What’s it say?” he asked with that smile
and greed eyes flashing.
“I dunno…” I stammered finally jarred awake.
“Well maybe you’ll figure it out someday,”
he said with a laugh…”my name’s Steve by the way.”
“Jonathon” I answered back shaking his hand.
I was overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of joy that came over me just because I
knew this man’s name. I kept repeating it over and over again in my hand like I
was trying to make sense of it.
He gave me a business card, that read Steve
Conner Personal trainer and therapist, it had a barbell on the face and his
number.
I thanked him and he told me to give him a
call if I ever needed any help getting in shape or someone to talk to. And then
he smiled again and left. I shook my head as he walked out the door his
powerful back disappearing behind the wooden frame. I felt like a fog had been
lifted and I went to throw the card into the trash but for some reason I
stuffed it into my pocket and left the bar without another look back
I was in my car driving back to my apartment
when I got the overwhelming urge to look at the card again. It was bizarre. I
just wanted to look at it. I felt like I had to. So I pulled over to the
shoulder of the road and retrieved it from my pocket. I looked at it for a
second and then before I knew what I was doing, I had dialed my cell phone and
heard a ringing in my ears. What the fuck was I doing!!! Holy shit I had to
hang up before…”hello this is Steve Conners…” there was long pause and then I
finally stammered “Uhm…er…hi…Steve this is john.” He said greeted me with that
same warm almost affectionate tone and asked me how I was and a dozen other
pleasantries before I blurted out….”I want to know if I can you know train with
you some time this week?” No I didn’t I work out with my buddies at the school
gym…I didn’t want to have to pay some random guy to…”sure Jon how’s Tuesday at
9 sound” I told him great even though I had bio-chemistry at that time and I
still didn’t want to meet him. He gave me an address and we said goodbye. I sat
their in my darkened car for another 15 minutes marveling at the strangeness of
my night before going home and fucking the brains out of Amanda.
I think that first Tuesday when instead of
grabbing some breakfast, my books and heading to bio-chem I put on a pair of
sweats and hopped in my car without thinking, I should have known something was
wrong. But instead I just drove happily to the gym that Steve’s directions lead
me to without a second thought.
It was in one of those weird sections of
town that just had to be a gay neighborhood. Which made me really pause. I
didn’t want to be at a gay gym! But then I saw Steve looking out of one of the
big picture windows with that big smile and I went right In on autopilot.
Steve gave me a big handshake and we went
right to working out which was kind of weird. As we went from machine to
machine I just kind of opened up to him. I’m not usually one of those people
who talk about his personal life and problems but Steve’s smile was just so
reassuring that I just felt I should. I told him all about Amanda and my
cheating on her, about my parents and the trust fund about Med school and how I
was only in it for the salary and how I couldn’t give a fuck about the people
or healing others. He didn’t even seem angry or disgusted the way most people
usually do when I tell them the truth, he just gave me that disapproving amused
frown.
We were half way through our work out when
some huge steroid beast in Lycra and sweat asked if he could work in with us on
one of the machines. Steve noticed me roll my eyes and pulled me aside so we
could evaluate the guy from a comfortable distance. He asked me why that guy
irritated me so much. I laughed and told him how much I love talking to big
muscle bound fags.
He looked confusion.
I told him to look at the guy. In the first
place, I said, he barely even looks like a human being. I mean he looked like
muscle and nothing else just one huge Muscle Mountain stuffed into fucking
spandex. And all that spandex meant all the stupid fag wants is for some dude
to fill those over grown glutes with dick. I laughed. Steve didn’t. It was the
one time he gave me a dark look, but then he shook it off and smiled again.
I quickly explained to him that he didn’t
seem that way. I told him his body was that perfect balance of muscle. He was
big but not huge. The more I tried to back peddle the more he seemed amused. He
told me to forget about it so I did.
For some reason I couldn’t seem to concentrate on
anything but the next time I got to work out with Steve. My whole life seemed
to suddenly revolve around the next time I was going to get to lift with him. I
mean I would sit at my desk, and try to finish my anatomy homework but all I
could think of was Steve looming over me counting reps as I pushed the bar up.
But I didn’t do that many bench presses did I? Of course not…Steve and I rarely
worked out chest. He knew I didn’t want to get to be big. Just tone. But we
work out three hours each day don’t we and that would mean we’d have to do more
then just…Ugh every time I would think too much about my workouts I’d get a
splitting headache. So I would just drop it and imagine Steve again behind me
steadying my arms during my fly curls, his heavy chest pressed against my back.
The tips of his nipples digging into my back flesh as I felt his massive pecs
expand with every breath he too…I felt myself growing hard at just the thought
of it.
What the fuck was wrong with?
I wasn’t a fag.
I had never even thought of a guys chest…but
Steve’s bodybuilder physique seemed to have some kind of supernatural power
over me. It was so fucking weird. I had tried to stop meeting with him but I
just couldn’t bring myself to skip one appointment with him. I wanted to just
give the whole fucking thing up. I couldn’t remember how I got myself into it
in the first place. But every time I tried I’d always just end up sitting in my
beamer in the parking lot of the gym trying desperately not to go in. I just
couldn’t help myself. I would try and turn the key and all I could think of was
Steve’s look of disappoint at my giving up. ME! HA! Me who had never cared
about anybody. Suddenly I didn’t want this muscle headed Personal trainer
thinking I was a quitter? What the fuck? But I’d always shuffle in and find
Steve looking up from a machine with a wide grin of approval that made my heart
soar like some retarded school kid who suddenly started coloring in the lines.
We had been working out together for about three weeks when he suggested that I
looked a little sickly. I told him I felt fine. But his disapproving stare told
me that I was wrong. Maybe I did look a little peeked? But I’m a med student if
there was anything wrong I’d be aware. I brushed it off and he seemed to be a
little irritated by my reticence to agree with him.
The next day he mentioned it again and this
time I just instinctively agreed. I don’t know why it was just knee jerk. I
didn’t quite see the point I arguing anymore. Strange.
After our workout which seemed to me to only last
about an hour but actually took like 3…where the fuck dos the time go when
we’re together, he took me into the back locker rooms and handed me some
supplements to take until I felt better. I looked in the box and saw a handful
of syringes vials and pills. I ask him what the fuck were these? He explained
that these were going to make me sick. He said he didn’t want his little buddy
getting sick. I told him that as a Med Student I knew that nobody needed this
much shit to feel better unless they were a cancer survivor. I laughed. He
didn’t. His dark brown eyes bore into me with such irritation and
disappointment that I wanted to cry. I was so upset that Steve was mad at me
that I quickly agreed to start taking them right there. He smiled that sunshine
smile at me and everything was better.
He explained that I should inject myself
with the Vials in my Ass and take the pills about 8 times a day. I started to
protest but he said he’d show me first, so I didn’t make any mistakes. I was
still going to argue but he lightly touched the band of my Grey sweats and my
body went into autopilot. I stood motionless breathing heavily and roughly with
stunned anticipation as he pulled my jogging pants to my knees. He smiled
gently and turned me around. I was stock still as a statue. He slowly grazed he
fingers against the waistband of my boxer’s and I let out a little gasp of
girlish delighted fright as he sunk them also down to my knees. I was
completely exposed before this mammoth gorilla of masculinity with my bare pal
ass and cock on display in the empty lockeroom. He florescent lights of the
room made me feel like I was in an operating room or something. I held my
breath in drastic anticipation and then I was rewarded with the most erotic
feeling of my life when I felt his big callused man hand brush against the soft
skin of my 23 year old ass. He held one cheek in his huge paw and I almost
quivered into jelly at the touch. I was so wrapped up in the warmth of that one
massive hand on my butt cheek that I didn’t even feel the needle sink into my
flesh.
He wiped the needle and smiled at me. Told me I was
a good boy and that I should never forget my medicine. Wow it was so weird this
guy talked to me like I was a fucking idiot child but I let him. I was actually
glad when he patted me on the head for being a good boy. I was glad to be his
good boy. What the fucking was happening to me?
He gave me that parental smile and told me to clean
myself up and get back to work. He left and I watched as his huge glutes
bounded back and forth down the hall. His ass lurching up and down powerfully
under his gym shorts as he walked away with the confidant bodybuilder Gate.
I looked down at my exposed crotch and noticed what
he was talking about. Sometimes during the injection I must have cum all over
myself. My cock was dripping with cum. It ran down my leg like a runny faucet
and I felt my cheeks blush with embarrassment. Oh god how humiliating I thought.
And again I almost wanted to cry. Holy shit that was like twice in one god damn
day. I never fucking cry! I felt like a god damn high-strung woman! I wanted to
get mad and hit something for behaving this way but instead I quickly pulled up
my sweats with shame and frustration, almost holding the tears back.
I grabbed me medicine and left the Gym. I was
ashamed at my behavior that I didn’t even read the medial labels on the bottles
he had given me. I knew they were prescription and all my experience as a med
student told me that You should never take Prescription drugs unless you know
what they are and you certainly didn’t fucking inject yourself with anything
but that didn’t seem to matter. Steve had given them to me. I trusted Steve. I
wanted Steve to be proud of me. He was just trying to make me feel better. I
mean I did look sick didn’t I?
I took my
medicine home that day and never missed an injection or a pill after that. I
mean it was my medicine and all good boys take their medicine right?
I think all my professors eventually got tired of me
skipping class to go to the gym with Steve because most of them told me not to
come back to class…that I had failed the semester but whatever. I’ll just take
summer semester. I mean fuck them I have the money. So I wasn’t going to class
at all. I was just working out with Steve a lot. And it still seemed like a few
minutes but our workouts were hours long. I was getting really into for some
reason too. I mean I was buying major amounts of protein, The chemically
engineered shit, watching my diet and constantly trying to increase my protein
intake. Which is weird cause I really didn’t care about it. My workouts
genuinely left me so beat that all I wanted to do when I got home was sleep so
I’d be rested for tomorrow’s workout.
That’s when Steve told me it was probably time to
get some new work out Gear. He told me that my old stuff was kind of getting
ratty so he sent me to this store with a list and I gave to the cashier. The
guy smiled and got me a bunch of really small speedo looking stuf but I dind’t
pay any attention to it. I just went home and put it on and went to the gym. I
noticed I was reall cold though. It flt like I was totally freezing and
exposed. But steve said he really like the new gear and I was glad I made him
happy.
It was a couple weeks after that that Amanda broke
up with me and moved out. It all seemed to happen so fast that I barely noticed
it. It was weird in the two years we had been dating after all the affairs I
had had all the rotten things I had done to her for her to just suddenly leave
was unthinkable. She was mine man! I mean I fucking owned her and here she was
telling me she was leaving. I tried to stop her, to convince her to stay but
for some reason my heart just wasn’t in it. I knew that I was terribly upset
and din’t want her to go at all but for some reason I couldn’t really make
myself care.
I asked her why she was leaving me and she said it
was because I had changed so much. She said I had become so simple I could
barely hold a conversation with her. I told her she was crazy. She told me that
even if my teachers hadn’t flunked me for attendance that there was no way I
would have survived the semester because I had somehow regressed to the
mentality of god damn six year old.
I told her she was mean. She laughed. She said that
all the drugs must be affecting my mind. I was confused what drugs I asked?
What drugs, she said…”what drugs? For Christ sake Jon just look at yourself,
it’s so fucking obvious don’t even try to pretend.
After she had slammed out I went to the nearest
mirror and investigated my reflection. Blonde and slim as ever…what the hell
was she talking about I mean I looked exactly the same. The phone rang and when
I looked towards a flicker of movement from the mirror caught my eye. It seemed
for a split second that the image of me kinda of wavered and what I saw was
someone else. No it looked like me only…bigger MUCH bigger. The guy looked like
a beefy lifeguard from bay watch or something with his big traps and well
rounded shoulders. That guy looked like a gymnast…not like me… I’ve always had
that baseball player build.
I told Steve about Amanda leaving and he said it was
probably for the best because I never knew how to treat women anyway. And I
knew he was right all I ever did was cheat on them and yell at them. Then he
laughed and massaged my crotch through the black spandex of my shorts. I threw
my headback and rolled my shoulders in giddy pleasure completely oblivious to
the obscenity and ridiculousness of his inappropriate touch. “It’s not like you
could get hard for her anymore anyway.” I felt my rod go stiff in his hand and
I laughed a loud dumb bark. He laughed too a hardy chuckle as he continued his
stroking. I kept laughing the same dumb horse giggle as he jerked me off
through my tiny little gym shorts. Unable to care or realize what was
happening.
Steve’s advice to me was that I should get rid of
all the things I owned that reminded me of Amanda. So that night I went home
and began systematically throwing away everything I owned. I didn’t mean to it
was just everything reminded me of Amanda from the sheets and the furniture to
my socks and shoes. The only things that really didn’t make me think of Amanda
were the things that made me think of Steve like my work out gear, my medicine
and my protein.
After about to weeks I was sleeping on a mattress in
an empty apartment with only workout clothes to wear. Which didn’t even seem to
bother me at all I thought everything was perfectly fine.
Until one night I had this horrible nightmare. In it
Steve and this big bodybuilder were in a truck. They were sitting in the
darkened cab, as Steve whispered instructions to the bodybuilder in that
soothing tone of his and placed a leather studded collar around the guy’s big
neck. I could tell the guy was a bodybuilder because he had one of those
obscenely huge muscled bodies that just stretched all his clothes and bulged
every time he moved. He was wearing some kind of military costume. A green tank
top and camouflage pants that made him look like some cartoon GI JOE wanna be.
Only the way he walked in his heeled black boots made him seem more like some
gay prostitute on a theme trick.
They got out of the truck and went into this big
house. There were all these guys there and the big dumb bodybuilder just went
to the center of the room and started slurping dick like a circus seal. The guy
was an animal all slobbering drool and cum down the cleft of his puffy chest.
And then suddenly I could feel the cum and the drool on my self. I could feel
the sensation of hot cock between my lips as sucked and teased some strangers
cock head. I felt my throat open up to deep throat down to the base like a
professional whore. I licked balls, kissed thighs and took dick like a happy
little pro… it seemed like hours later when I woke up screaming. I grabbed a
protein shake and tried to get back to sleep not even noticing the camouflage
pants and large boots now added to closet wardrobe.
I told Steve about it and he told me he was worried about
me. He said I was probably too unstable after the whole Break up with Stacey to
take care of myself. I tried to disagree but he seemed so right. He told me I
even looked sick. It asked him to help me. I practically begged him. He told me
the first thing we had to do was get rid of all the stress in my life as
quickly as possible. He told me my finances must be really dragging me down.
And I immediately agreed. So he agreed to take care of all my bills and stuff
until I felt better. I was so grateful!
The next day we went right down to the bank and I
signed a bunch of stuff I didn’t understand but Steve did. He said it was just
so he could take care of things for me. I thanked him over and over again. I’m
so glad I had a trustworthy man like Steve in my life to take care of me!
He even gave me this special skin moisturizer that
was supposed help me relax. It was kinda of weird and made my skin tingle and
itch but I put it on everyday cause Steve said to.
I think it was six months or so after I had first
had that drink with Steve at the bar when he told me that I looked so sick I
would probably need surgery. We were at the gym, working out as usual, because
that’s where I spend all my time now that I’m not in school. Most of my old
friends are rely wigged out by the fact that I don’t give a damn about
graduating anymore so I’d rather spend all my time with Steve.
He looked at me and told me that I was probably
going to need to have an operation so that I could feel better. I told him I
felt fine and he asked me who would know better with his loving smile and I
said him. I was so scared I started to cry. He knew I was just a scared little
boy sometimes so he put one of his big arms around me to make me feel better.
Which was weird cause it made me hard as a rock to have his bare skin against
mine. I must have looked really stupid sitting their balling my eyes out until
I was red in the face with my cock forcing the spandex of my shorts to bulge
insanely.
He told me everything would be fine and that
I could recuperate at his house afterward. I asked him what recuperate meant.
He laughed really hard and said that I could live with him. I was so happy I
forgot all about the surgery. The next day I moved all my stuff, which after
all my house cleaning was basically my workout clothes into a room right next
to his. It was completely walled with mirrors, that had a nice big bed in the
center. I loved it but it did make me feel a little bad. I mean here I was this
scrawny college kid with all these mirrors reflecting back my athletic but
not-to built body. I mean Steve deserved to live with a guy as big as him,
didn’t he? I guess Steve was just a nice guy that way huh?
The
next day Steve took me to the hospital and signed me in. He stayed with me the
entire time and eve held my hand when until the Anastiesia kicked in. It was
until he was watching my eyes flutter closed with that adorning proud grin that
I realized I had never asked what exactly they were going to do…I mean Christ I
used to study doctor stuff right? I mean I should know what they were going do
…
I don’t really remember much about the
hospital or coming home. Only that it seemed to last forever and I was in an
intense amount of pain all the time. It seemed like my whole body hurt. They
couldn’t have done surgery on my whole body could they?
I spent a lot of days just lying in my bed
at Steve’s house sleeping or having him feed me and change the dressings on my
body. He took care of me with such a gentle touch it was like he was caring for
a child. I love Steve so much.
I can still remember the morning that
Jonathan started to disappear and I started seeing Julio. I woke up and I think
all the pain killers had leaked out of my system beaus I sat up without any
pain. I was so happy. I just wanted to get up and take of the bandages that
encased my body…but when I reached down to I realized that someone must have
done it while I slept….but who…oh yeah I remembered I was staying with Steve
and he was taking care of me after my surgery…But why did I have surgery? And
why the fuck was I staying with this guy that I just met? I just wanted to get
up throw on my clothes and try and find Amanda. I felt so confused. I needed to
talk to someone I could trust. But I trusted Steve didn’t I? I was so confused.
I got up with effort and my body felt so
fucking heavy. It must have been from the drugs they must have made my legs and
arms heavy with numbness. I lumbered over to a nearby low built Asian style
bureau and opened it only to find faggy spandex work out gear. And not your
every day run of the mill fag gear, these were bright blue Singlets and red
unitards. How the fuck was I supposed to wear this shit? Where were my jeans
and my t-shirts? And from the look of it I wouldn’t even be able to fit into
this lycra gym queen shit. It was way to big it looked like it was meant for a
man twice or three times my size…I slammed the drawer shut and looked up into
one of the mirrored walls of the room.
Which is when I started screaming.
There was someone else in the room with me! a big hulking gorilla. He was
fucking completely naked and staring right at me! How the fuck did this Spic
bodybuilder end up in my room naked as a fucking savage? I the guy was freaky
ass huge too! His
I
began to sob, the huge meat hunks of my shoulders bouncing up and down
comically. I asked him how he did this and he began to tell me quite calmly as
he watched my gargantuan pecs bob up and down with my exaggerated breathing.
First he said he had the doctor’s do some eye work on me that tilted my eye and
made my lids heavier that he said was the most important part other than the
skin of course. All Latin men have gorgeous eyes that are almost Asian almost
African. He then had them give me cheek implants to make give me the
high-cheeked sensuality of a Latin man, which he said happily went great with
my already strong Irish jaw.
Then they shot my poor lips up with enough collagen
to make a super model blush. This gave
me the exaggerated sexy ethnic pout that Steve said he was so crazy about.
They even broke my nose and reshaped it to give the
flat nostrils inherent to the Spanish races features…
I cried even harder looking at the vascular lines of
honey colored skin dissecting my football sized biceps like a highway system.
How’d you make me change color! I demanded.
He laughed arch deep full bellied laugh. Oh I’ve
been doing that for months! That moisturizer he gave me he said was a special
chemical blend that slowly tinted my skin…that combined with all the obsessive
tanning I had been doing gave me the perfect Rudy red caramel complexion that
any Hispanic boy would sport.
I told him I couldn’t believe all that he done. And
he said that that wasn’t it and smiled his benign smile. He told me to stand
and I immediately complied in a knee jerk childlike way that pissed me off. I
lurched the disgusting mass of my body up and he told me to turn around. I did,
exposing the wide expanse of my wing like back to the mirror. You know that
pesky love handle flesh that you just couldn’t seem to get rid of no matter how
much we worked out those granite abs of yours? He said. And then I vaguely
remembered snippets of our foggy intense workout sessions where he would fret
over the side flesh of my abdomen irritated at it’s persistence to never go
away. Well, he said, I had them remove it. I nodded dully. But he continued.
They removed it then moved it, he laughed. I looked over at him confusedly and
he pointed at my ass. You had a great ass after all those lunges heavy weight
lunges and extremely heavy squats but it wasn’t quite the big ghetto booty that
a man of your ethnicity deserved, so I had them take all that fat and put it on
your ass. He laughed and it was half amused half horned. I looked down at my
big butt and saw what he meant. On top of rock hard muscle of my glutes was a
thick layer of mocha flesh that was round pliant and jumped from my backside
like a woman’s would…only firmer. It didn’t jiggle so much as it swayed when I
walked.
I looked at myself in the many mirrors of my room
and only saw a Hispanic bodybuilder not myself. I fell to the floor on my huge
tear shaped quads and bent as far over as my massive cumbersome lats would
allow me and began to sob.
“aww Johnny what’s wrong?” Steve asked in his
comforting way.
“I look like a fucking spic muscle fag,” I said
accusingly.
He laughed and said I didn’t look like one I was
one!
All I could do was cry and ask how and why over and
over, rocking back and forth and feeling the heavy muscle of my pendulous
swarthy pec’s contract beneath me.
He laughed again his amused chuckle. Think back he
said, to that first night.
He told me
that he knew I was the kind of cocky kid that deserved to be given a lesson I’d
one day forget. He said with a laugh. He patted my hair and brushed my black
spiky bangs, “I know your confused” he said laughing…”you always are now…but
you see kiddo that first night I gave you a post hypnotic suggestion, that
you’d want to call me and get to know me as soon as I left you my card, I also
made it so you couldn’t read the whole card…I’d let you look at it again
now…but you can’t read English anymore” He started laughing again and then
explained further. “you see the card says Steve Conner’s Personal trainer and
Hypno-therapist. I hypnotized you with a few simple tricks that first night. The
reflection of my watch…the tone of my voice…the expensive and strong drugs I
had put in your drink …”he gave me a crooked smile, “didn’t know I did that did
ya? I was just going to give you a one night deep dicking to teach your spoiled
college ass a lesson but then I saw that see with the girl and the bouncer and
knew you deserved much more. Ya see I’ve always wanted a houseboy but I’m very
picky. I wouldn’t want just any guy. I wanted a specific kind of man to be my
companion, maid and sex slave…and the only way to get that was to make one. And
I decided right then and there that you were just the waste of genetic material
waiting for me to reshape it body and mind. Nobody was going to miss your
arrogant, malignant, selfish ass but you.”
He kneeled down behind me and held my massive
shoulders in a loving embrace almost like he was cuddling a baby. “It was a
simple after that, I started working out with you and every day and
re-hypnotized you and made you forget about it. I gave you all kinds of suggestions
over the passed months. First I made you get gradually dumber and more
dependant on me. That was fun to watch I watched that look of cool
condescension and pride become one of dim witted confusion and uncertainty.
Then I made you ignore the affects of the steroids on your body…in fact I made
you ignore that fact that you were taking massive amounts of steroids at all.”
He began ticking things off like he was going down a list, “made you quit
school, throw away your things break up with your girlfriend, start dressing
like a slutty gym bunny….hmm oh and I made you sign you money over to me…” He
massaged my wide shoulders and the manipulation of my flesh by his big strong
man hands made me instantly hard. As he explained my destruction and
reconstruction into his wet dream I began to absently jerk off.
“that’s another thing” he said, “I made you gay,” he
laughed watching my hammy red fist bob up and down on my now dark cock, “VERY
Gay.” Then he put his hand over mine and increased the friction and speed on my
cock and he bit my ear seductively, “and I don’t want to worry you but you’re a
little bit of a slut too.” I felt his own cock get rigid and thick behind me
and I arched my big ghetto booty ass into his crotch instinctively. “that’s a
good boy now get on all fours so I can finally get what I’ve been waiting for.”
I paused for a second trying to make sense of the situation.
He was pulling down his jeans as I leaned forward
and presented my big ass doggy style, “that’s a good boy you knew you were
going to do it anyway.”
I felt his big cock head at the entrance to my newly
remodeled virgin hole. He gave my thick chest a quick heave and then thrust his
entire length into me making me squeal out in pain. It was only after that I
realized I was crying out in exsctasy but I was screaming “adios Mio” and “Aye
Carumba!” in fact everything I had been saying was Spanish…
To
look at me now you’d never know that I used to be Jonathon Shamrock Med Student
living of his parent’s generous trust fund. Jonathon was 6’2 with blue eyes
and dark hair. Jonathan had the tight
collegiate build of an Abercrombie and fitch model, with the all American good
looks to go with it. Jonathan wore only designer khaki’s and polo’s. Jonathan was
witty and urbane and knew how to manipulate every situation to get what he
wanted.
All you’d see now Is some Latin Steroid
abusing Bodybuilder who dressed like a santa monica Blvd street hustler and
spoke such broken sexually explicit English you’d think he was born for Porn.
The only clothes I wear over my huge ridiculously tan and round muscles are
either lycra or so tight that they’re made for girls. I can’t help it. It’s the
only clothes I seem to even want to wear. I try and go in the store with the
little money that master let’s me keep from my gigs stripping, and buy
something normal…something I used to be able to wear. But every time I end up
wandering over to the young Miss section and squeezing my muscle bound Latino
ass into a pair of short short’s meant for a fourteen year old girl and a tank
top that says boys lie that stretches obscenely across the my disgustingly
mammoth tits, that exposes my belly button. Which is extra gross because Master
took me down to a shop off of sunset and had it pierced with a little blue
stone. The store girls always laugh and they should because the damn shorts
never cover the girth of my roid pumped glutes and leave the big muscled ass
fleck of my butt exposed so everyone can watch the caramel skin flex up and
down like a horses hunched when I walk. And even though I want to get mad all I
can do is smile sweetly and pay for my tramp clothes. Which always leads to
trouble because my counting isn’t very good and I don’t understand American
money very well. I should just stop going out without Master Steve. He always
takes care of me and I’m just too estupidio to be out alone. That’s another
thing Steve did…since I already knew Spanish he said it was easy to make me
forget every language I knew but that. I still know a little English, just
enough to get by, but the words I know are inappropriate and they make me look
like such a dumb fag. I can’t call my chest a chest or even pec’s, the only
word I can manage is tits… I can’t refer to myself as Steve’s boyfriend, friend
or even roommate…all I can say is House boy and fuck toy. He even went to all
the trouble of making me watch Spanish soap opera’s so that I’d have the
perfect. Thick barely intelligible Spanish accent. I talk with such a thick
romantic lilt that I can barely understand myself. Steve loves it. In fact
Steve loves everything about me now…he can’t keep his hands off of me. We make
love three or four times a day…and I don’t mind it that much anymore… I love
his green eyes smile and the way he holds me like his little Spanish fly…that’s
what he calls me sometimes when he’s holding me after fucking me raw.
But that’s basically the story up to
now…except for the other day he told me to look at his watch again and try to
read the writing on it. I did, and I really concentrated and finally I suddenly
looked up and said “livin la Vida Loca?!” he smiled and laughed. I don’t think
that’s what it really says but he tried to make me feel better by telling me it
did. That’s when he told me to write all this down. I have to go though he
wants to talk to me….He says he wants me to sit on his cock one last last time
for old time’s sake…I don’t know what that means…
Steve told me
to write Some stuff down today- I don’t know why. He knows my English is bad
and I’m not real good with words. But he knows best and I never argue with him.
He just told me that I should write about my life.
Its not that
complicated. My name is Julio Santos and I’m a bodybuilder from Puerto-rico. I
came to America seven months ago and I live as the houseboy of my friend and
Master, Steven. He helps me with my bodybuilding, gives me a place to live and
I’m his personal fuck toy and live in servant. I do the laundry and cook when
I’m not working out or bent over the nearest surface. It’s perfect.
I’m the most
gorgeous piece of Hispanic bull meat on the West Coast, or that’s at least what
Steve and all his friends tell me constantly. I love it when they do that, it
get'’ my cock hard and makes my boy pussy hungry as shit. I'’ 248 lbs. of rock
hard solid muscle. And all the mass looks huge on my 6’2 frame. I stand out in
every crowd, half because I look like a caricature of every muscle head in all
those Health magazines, but also cause I barely dress. I can’t help it. I just
hate to hide my awesome bod. I mean how are other guys supposed to want to fuck
me if they can’t see it all? And that’s what all this muscle is for isn’t it?
I’m not stupid. Well I am but not that way. I’m this big and ripped because I
want every guy who walks by to look and think…”damn that one freaky huge Latin
Muscle beast…god I just wanna shove my cock up that big ass or tit fuck those
big pec’s.” That’s why I dress in the skimpiest shit possible, tit clinging
shirts that show off my dark nipples and short shorts that leave nothing about
my round ass globes to the imagination. Steve likes it best when I’m naked at
home so he can constantly admire the shaven and glistening perfection of my
body temple. I don’t even mind that I’m always naked and he wears clothes. I
used to wear a thong….but that’s like wearing work clothes on your day off. I
like to clean and lounge by the pool completely buff and nude. Steve says I
like being that way cause I’m just a savage island boy at heart. I bet he’s
right.
I spend most
of my days liftin down at Venice Beach with all the other big ass steroid boys.
Most of them are real nice to me even though they say I dress like a dumb slut.
What’s so wrong with bein a dumb slut?
Steve says
they’re nice to me because I’m Hispanic. He says they don’t want to seem like
racists. It’s not like I can talk to them a lot anyway, most of them don’t know
Spanish. And since my English hasn’t gotten much better since I came here it’s
hard to talk about anything except my body or sex. And they seem to get half
offended and half turned on when I call my chest tits or something…but it’s not
my fault I just don’t know how to say it any other way in English. It’s hard
not speaking English, but Steve is trying to teach me. It’s just taking real
long cause I’m so dumb. But how can I help it. all I know about it is getting
huge and sucking cock.
I work a
couple of odd jobs on the side so that I can have some spending money, since I
left Puerto-rico with nothing. Some mornings I work down town at a Latin
grocer. It’s just nice to make a few extra bucks unloading trucks and being
with my own people. They understand me and my accent doesn’t bother them at all
where as all the other people here can'’ seem to understand a word I say.
At nights I
work the best job in the world. I strip. I love stripping. Just not for women.
I work at a club where it’s all men all the time. Just my huge body sweating
and grinding to the music. It’s crazy to see me dance. All this muscle in
motion. But I can get straddle a pole with the best little cut dancer boy. This
big ass thunder thighs might be as big as most of the other stripper’s waists
but I still rake in the cash. It’s just me with a room full of men with their
eyes and their aching hard cocks locked on my sultry red mocha skin.
I’ve thought
about hustling a couple of times, but I know Steve wouldn’t approve. I just
feel so bad, since he buys all the massive amounts of Protein and Illegal Juice
to keep me as he calls it “his own private tropical muscle mountain.” I just
love it when he talks about my muscles. Then again I’d never want to make a guy
pay for sex…it’d take all the fun out of it. Like the other day I was pissing
in the bathroom of this restaurant when this waiter came in to use the stall
next to me. he was a real handsome college type with nice average tone…nothing
like me or Steve but enough man meat to make me flex. So I turned to the mirror
and started crunching my Biceps together making them erupt like volcanoes. I
love it when other guys watch me pose. He looked a little startled but the way
his cock raged against his khakis I knew he wanted a piece. So without even
talking I threw the bolt on the bathroom door slid down my daisy dukes and
presented my thong covered ass. He fucked me real good. He knew what was up. We
never even spoke. I like those best. It’s hard when you have to talk to the
cock…I mean guy, especially when your English is as bad as mine is. I just like
to smile flex and show them my ass. They usually get the point.
Everyone in
awhile Steve’s Gym buddies and Circuit friend come over for a wild night of
fucking. I love that a lot. I spend 8 hours getting fucked like an animal and
sucking cock like my life depended on it. It’s weird though don’t think they
can pronounce me name. They always start calling me Jonathon and laughing as
they ream my hole or slap my big sensual lips with their oozing dicks.
But what I
like best about my days are when I cuddle up in Steve’s bed with him, and he
tenderly takes me like the first night I left my old life….my old life in
puerto-rico.
And that’s my
life. I’m just a body-building, cum addicted Hispanic muscle boy livin La Vida
loca!