Barista Muscle 3
Almost a month had gone by since I'd seen Nick. I'd been out of town for business for two of those weeks, and then every time I stopped by the Starbucks, he wasn't there. I was kicking myself for not exchanging numbers the last time I saw him, but part of me enjoyed the anticipation of catching him hit or miss at work. Finally, though, as I sat at a table at the Starbucks one morning, I asked a young female employee when Nick worked. I was stunned when she told me he'd been fired.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Well," she said, looking around the shop, "I shouldn't say this, but I think the other guys who worked here got him fired."
"Because they're a bunch of sissies, if you ask me. I heard them complaining to the manager than every time they'd bump into him behind the counter, they'd get bruised up." She laughed, then said, "and that part is probably true. Nick had gotten so big. I mean like huge big. I saw him bump into the manager once, and it sent him stumbling back against the register like a pin ball. He said Nick made it an 'unsafe' workplace. I think they were all just jealous of all his muscles. Anyway, he seemed ok with it, cause he told me he'd gotten a job as a bouncer at a club downtown."
"Do you know which club?"
"He told me, but I can't remember the name. Hey, is your name Frank?"
She reached into her apron pocket and fished around. "He told me to give this to you if you came in looking for him." She pulled out a paper napkin and gave it to me. It had a cell phone number on it.
"Thanks," I said, feeling a huge sense of relief.
"Don't mention it. Now I better get back to work before these guys get me fired!"
She walked away, and I pulled out my phone and sent Nick a simple "hey man" text. It only took a minute for him to respond, "hey, come to your place , i just pulled up, parked out front. u got to see this."
I got up and headed back to my place as fast as I could without looking like I was fleeing from the law. As I got close to my building, I saw a Cadillac Escalade flash its headlights. I saw Nick behind the wheel, and as I got closer, he leaned over and opened the passenger side door.
"Get in," he said. He had on a black sweatshirt and sweat pants. His voice was about an octave lower than the last time I saw him. I climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. I looked him over. The girl at Starbucks was right, he'd gotten 'huge big'. Densely packed, like a black hole, pulling me into him.
"Nick, geezus..." I said.
"I know, dude, it's intense, right?" His deep voice gave me goosebumps. "That protein you gave me kicked in like crazy. I don't know what's in it, the bag doesn't even list ingredients, but it's definitely more than just whey! Everything I eat now turns to muscle, man. I hit 268 this morning. And the shit amps me way beyond any preworkout supp I ever tried. Changed my whole metabolism. It's fucking awesome. Look at my jaw." He clenched his teeth and made the muscle swell out along his jaw line. I could see the striations popping out, and a big knob of muscle bulged out a the top. "Dude, I could probably bend rebar with my teeth now. You got to get me more of that stuff. I tried to get it online, but the site said it's closed to new members do to limited supplies. Did you register when you got it?"
"Yeah, I did," I answered, shifting the hardon I was getting from his voice, and the fact that, at 5'7", he was packing 268lbs of shredded muscle. His muscular, squared-off jaw made his face look hypermasculine. His brow even looked thicker. And his neck had to be 25 inches around.
"You're getting hard over this, aren't you, dude?" he asked, shifting himself toward me in his seat. "I don't blame you. So do I." He grabbed my hand. "I did legs today, man, you got to feel this." He shoved my hand under the waistband of his sweats and down onto the side of his right quad. "Ever feel a 33" quad before? And feel the veins? Thick as pencils, and not the normal ones. Like the ones you got in first grade that are super thick. You feel them?" He slid my hand deeper into his pants.
I felt my hand slide over hot, rock hard muscle and the thick hard veins that pulsed underneath his paper thin skin. He leaned over closer to me and whispered in my ear, "Squatted 1000lbs for reps today. Half a ton. Feel how pumped they are? And, I'm at 1 percent bodyfat. Maybe less. Caliper can't pinch enough to read it accurate." His voice so deep, like a porn star, and his breath so hot in my ear. "Order me some more. I'll show you what 300+ looks like. And I got posers on, so you can see every inch of the muscle. See?" He lifted up the waistband of his sweats, showing the tiny strip of his white posers. Then he ran my hand up under his sweatshirt. "Feel this ab wall, man." He clenched his abs as my hand rested flat against them. "Like cobblestones, man. Eight of them. I got that roidgut look going right now, cause I'm eating so much, but it's hard as a beer keg. You could break a bat across this gut muscle."
He leaned over and pinned me to the seat with his weight. The Escalade moved as he shifted himself over. "Just wait, man. I'll get to 320 and show you what real muscle looks like. Rock your world every day. Feel my arms." I squirmed under his weight and reached up and grabbed his arms. "Twenty-two inches cold," he said. "Bet I can bloat them to 24 for you. Just by flexing them, slow and hard. Every move I make pumps me up bigger. Just walking up your steps will pump my calves up. You should see them, big as footballs, man. I could pin you down like you're a grape with these calves. Hold you there as long as I want. Let's go up, and I'll show you."
"You know what I've got up there, Nick?" I said, eager to entice him even more.
"That other bag of the protein. I've hardly used any of it. I'll bet there's 29lbs of it left."
I felt his dick harden thru his sweats, and he bucked into me hard enough to make me grunt. He took my face in one thick meaty hand. "Don't lie to me, man," he said, his voice even deeper and a look of hunger in his eyes. It was a little scary, how intensely he wanted more powder. But it turned me on.
"No lie," I said.
He ran the palm of his hand against my face. I could feel his calluses scrapping against my skin. "Hope you can handle this," he said. He shifted off of me, and got out of his side of the car, where he pulled down his sweat pants and stepped out of them, tossing them back onto his seat. Several people on the street gasped and pointed. He came around to my side of the car and opened the door. It took everything I had not to bust in my pants at the sight of him in his sweatshirt and posers.
"Let's go," he said. I got out of the car and let him into my building. I followed him up the stairs, and watched as his monstrous glutes swallowed up his poser and rolled with the thickness of a superheavyweight pro. I hoped I could handle this too.