O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

SteveBuilt Gym

by Richard Pickman

Adam was honored to be invited to meet Steve Mazikimon. He had been working out at his gym, SteveBuilt Gym, for the last two years, just after his 23rd birthday. SteveBuilt was a Venice Beach institution. The place had been open for nearly twenty years. They had produced more bodybuilding champions than any other up and down the coast, or anywhere in the US.

"How are you doing, Adam?" asked Mazikimon after the young man had been ushered in by Lucas, Mazikimon's assistant.

"Great, Mister Mazikimon."

"Steve, Adam, call me Steve. And stay, Lucas, I might have need of your services."

"Yes sir."

Adam had seen pictures of Mazikimon, but never met him, or even seen him. He was something of a recluse. Seeing him in person, Adam realized how really big he was.

The man was at least 6 foot 6. He wore a brown leather jacket, dark shirt and dark slacks. But even under all his clothes, you could tell he was massive. The man had obviously not stopped working out. Quite the contrary, obviously. Adam guessed he must be at least 270 pounds, all muscle. His hair was short but not close cropped, so you could see the grey at the temples. He was probably 50, but Adam guessed his body could put those of men half his age to shame.

"How's the supplement working out for you?" He obviously meant the SB Protein Complex. It was available on the market, and very popular. But it was half the normal price for gym members. Which was an extra encourgement, were any really needed, for people to join.

"Great, Steve. I've been taking it the last two months. I've gotten more definition than I thought I ever could."

"Let's see. Take off your shirt." Adam felt a little weird, but did as he was asked. I should probably do what Steve says, Adam thought. He knows best.

"Yes, you've come along nicely. Very, very nicely. I think you're ready. I only choose the best, Adam. You should be proud."

"I, I am?" He was proud. Steve said he should be, so he was. But why? This wasn't making any sense. He should leave. But Steve hadn't said he could. Why should that matter? If I want to leave I should leave. But Steve wants me to stay, because he chose me. So I should stay. "I don't, don't understand, what's going on?"

"I could explain, but it would take far, far too long. So look into my eyes, Adam."

Adam did so. Were Steve's eyes getting bigger? Was he falling into therm, or were they pulling him in? Either way, all he could see now were Steve's eyes. Suddenly he started remembering. But what he was remembering, he had never experienced. Somehow it came to him that these were Steve's memories. How was this possible? How could he know what Sh'Khoomda'Ka knew? Who was Sh'Khoomda'Ka?

"Relax, Adam. Let me remember to you."

~~~

A tribesman

Sh'Khoomda'Ka was old. How old even he did not know. When the ancestors of humanity first stood upright, he was there. When they hunted the mammoths and sabertooth tigers, he was there. To the chosen of each tribe, he gave strength so they became great hunters. But at a price. To one or two in each tribe, he gave more, and then took them for his pleasure. This continued for generation after generation, millennia after millennia. Then one tribe invented agriculture, or was guided to it by another like him. He sensed a presence of power when he visited the tribe, but never was able to communicate with it. As the knowledge of agriculture spread, tribes ceased hunting and settled, the beginnings of civilization. Fewer tribes wanted his gift of strength, and he could not force them to take it. That was not how it worked. So he grew weaker as he was starved of sustenance. Finally, he chose a cave high in the mountains. He merged into the rock and slept. Perhaps, he thought, this is the end for me.

And yet it was not. Perhaps as long as humanity existed, so would he. So he slept the centuries away, dreaming of all the men whom he had gifted, and the pleasure they had brought each other.

One day (how long after he first went to sleep he could not say), he awoke. He felt the calling of need, the desire of men wanting to be stronger. It 'tasted' different, somehow, but he knew it could provide him nourishment. So he made his way north slowly, feeding on the primitive strength of animals. Since they had no higher thought, he did not need their consent to feed. But the strength of animals was pathetic compared to what he derived from humans. Still, it provided enough to sustain him on his journey.

When he reached the source, he was amazed. So many people! And what they had built, amazing. He wandered unnoticed through towns and villages. Finally, on the horizon he spied towering structures. When he got closer, he saw they were pyramids. Giant things, hundreds of feet high. And being built by men. Moving stones with ropes and pulleys and rollers, up ramps. Strong men, all of them, as the building of the pyramids had made them. And in all of them, the desire to be stronger, so they could build faster and higher for their…god?

He could see into their minds, more clearly than he had any men before. Their need to be stronger was so great it was like an open invitation to him. So he learned about these people, these Egyptians. They believed their rulers were gods, and built monuments like these pyramids to celebrate them. Were there others like him, after all this time? He had to find out, so he went to the palace of the ruler, the Pharaoh.
And was disappointed. No god was this Pharaoh, though the people and indeed the Pharaoh himself believed it so. He overcame his disappointment with the realization that there would be no beings to prevent him from obtaining what he had been without for so long.

As he wandered around the palace grounds, he learned of a curious concept that the Egyptians had created. Sport. Men competing against other men, for baubles to which they had assigned meaning. And to make themselves better at sport, they had invented something they called exercise. A method of improving the strength and vitality of the body, specifically so they could be better at sport. It was the strangest thing he had ever encountered, and yet so brilliant and uniquely human. He would have to adapt, but this could provide him with all the feeding he would ever need.

Re'em-khu

He began by finding a man who wanted the gift, though he didn't know it. Re'em-khu wanted to be the best at sport, and worked hard to improve his body to that end. He also desired other men. That made it easier. When Re'em-khu was alone, Sh'Khoomda'Ka appeared to him and said, "You wish to be strong?"

"Who are you?" The figure was cloaked and hooded, its head down. All Re'em-khu could see exposed where folded hands in the moonlight. "Where did you come from?"

"I am Sh'Khoomda'Ka. Where I come from is unimportant. What is important is my question, and your truthful answer."

Re'em-khu thought he should be afraid, but was not. He had no reason to answer the question, yet he did. "Yes, I wish to be strong."

"Stronger than any man? Strong so you could win any contest?"

"Yes. And yes."

"I can give that to you? Do you want that?"

"How can you give me such a thing? Are you a… god?"

"Perhaps."

"And should I say yes, what is the price? For there is nothing in this world or the next that is free."

"When I give you the gift, you will also become like a field of grain to me. At times, I will harvest a portion of that field and consume it. Only a portion, so it may regrow and I can harvest it again and again. The harvest itself will not hurt. In fact, it will be… most pleasant. So, do you choose to accept the gift? If so, you must ask for it in my name."

"I, I do not, but, I could. Yes. I am weary of always losing in the contests. I wish to hear the cheering of the crowd, not their jeers. In the name of Sh'Khoomda'Ka, give me the gift of strength."

"At last." The cloak seemed to melt away, and Sh'Khoomda'Ka stood naked. Re'em-khu had never seen anyone so beautiful. How could that be, since his face, though revealed, remained indistinct? Yet somehow it was beautiful. But the body was thoroughly and gloriously visible in every detail. In the moonlight it looked as though the greatest sculptor had carved the ideal of a man in marble. He was tall, so tall, and the muscles were huge, yet all came together in a symmetry without flaw. If Re'em-khu had not desired men already, he believed seeing this vision would have changed that.

Then he saw the manhood. It was like the rest of Sh'Khoomda'Ka, huge but perfect. Once he saw it, he could not stop looking at it. It called to him, compelled him to kneel before it and take it into his mouth. He could contain no more than the tip, but worshipped it with his tongue and mouth as much as he could.

Suddenly the saltiest, sweetest thing he had ever tasted or smelled seemed to fill his entire head. He felt dizzy, intoxicated by the viscous fluid coming from Sh'Khoomda'Ka's manhood. He struggled to get more into his mouth and found he could. It was as though his mouth and throat were becoming more pliant, able to take more and more into him.

Lost in ecstasy, he was confused when Sh'Khoomda'Ka stepped back, leaving him empty. "You needed to consume some of my essence so you would be able to receive the gift. You are ready. Now remove your loincloth and get on the ground on your hands and knees."

Re'em-khu obeyed immediately, though there was fear in him. He had been with other men, but never any who were close to the size of Sh'Khoomda'Ka. But he now was consumed with hunger for the gift, and the need for Sh'Khoomda'Ka to be inside him. He only hoped it would not hurt for too long.

Re'em-khu turned his head and saw Sh'Khoomda'Ka stroking his manhood with one hand while cupping the head with the other. He opened that hand and there was a small pool in the palm, which he rubbed gently up and down the cleft of his ass. It was cool and tingled. Then Sh'Khoomda'Ka gently eased a finger into him. There was a flash of pain, but it disappeared. Re'em-khu sighed. It felt so good.

Then another finger. Another flash, then pleasure. A third, flash, pleasure. The fingers slowly twisted around and deeper until they were in as far as possible. Sh'Khoomda'Ka continue the inner massage. Re'em-khu relaxed, to the point where he nearly collapsed on the ground entirely. But he managed to stay up somehow.

Sh'Khoomda'Ka removed his fingers. He put his manhood at the entrance to his ass, and then pushed in, very gradually. When the head was inside, Re'em-khu felt a fire unlike any he had felt before. Then it was as though he was inundated by a wave of delight. Sh'Khoomda'Ka kept pushing, and Re'em-khu started pushing back. This, he thought, must be what the gods feel when they make love.

Re'em-khu knew there was no way all of Sh'Khoomda'Ka could be in him. But as he thought that he could take no more, more was inside him. Thus when he felt Sh'Khoomda'Ka's pubic hair against his ass, it didn't make sense to him for a minute.

"You are doing well. It is time."

Re'em-khu felt Sh'Khoomda'Ka's manhood throbbing. He must be releasing his seed inside me, Re'em-khu thought. Suddenly he felt a burning deep in his bowels. It grew, expanding until it filled his whole body. Was he glowing, he thought, or was that a trick of the moonlight? But the pain he felt was not pain. He did not understand. It was as though his entire body was swelling, stretching, nearly exploding with energy. He opened his mouth to scream, but Sh'Khoomda'Ka covered it so it was muffled. The sensations and the screaming went on and on until Re'em-khu was overwhelmed and blacked out.

When he awoke, Re'em-khu felt different. Vital, powerful, more so than he had ever felt. "It is done. Arise, my new disciple." Re'em-khu got off the ground and stood. He turned to look at Sh'Khoomda'Ka. There was something different about him. Was Sh'Khoomda'Ka shorter?

"No. The opposite, in a way. Now that you have my gift, I can share your thoughts. Look at yourself."

He looked down. He could not see his stomach, or his feet. His chest was so large it blocked his view of them. He reached up with both hands. They could barely encompass his chest now. His hands went down. His abdomen felt like stone covered with flesh. Then he noticed his upper arms. They were huge. He clenched his fists and his biceps swelled even more.

He looked down further. His manhood seemed a little larger, but not much. His legs, though, were like tree trunks.

"Let me show you something." Sh'Khoomda'Ka bent down and suckled one of Re'em-khu's nipples. Re'em-khu moaned, threading his fingers through Sh'Khoomda'Ka's hair. He had never been so aroused. Sh'Khoomda'Ka stepped away. "Now look down."

Re'em-khu was dumbfounded. His hardened manhood was as large as the largest he had ever seen.

"In all ways, you are bigger, and stronger. You are now ready for my first feeding of you. Grab your ankles."

As big as he was, Re'em-khu thought he would not be able to stretch like that, but obeyed anyway. Sh'Khoomda'Ka commanded it, so he must obey. He wanted to obey. So when he was able to grab his ankles with no problem, he knew he would be able to do anything Sh'Khoomda'Ka wanted.

Sh'Khoomda'Ka thrust into Re'em-khu completely, with no hesitation. Of course, thought Re'em-khu. I have been transformed for his pleasure. It is a small price for so great a gift. And later in the evening, after finishing their third round of lovemaking, he found that Sh'Khoomda'Ka was also right about the feeding. It was even better than the sex. He would be happy to die from it.

But Sh'Khoomda'Ka kept his promise and only fed on Re'em-khu on occasion. He set himself up as Senen-khu, Re'em-khu's cousin and a trainer for those who wished to excel in the competitions. Re'em-khu was the best advertisement possible, and soon Senen-khu was training dozens. He only converted the best, in a few months having enough men to spread out his feedings. It was good to have a steady but varied diet.

But Sh'Khoomda'Ka wanted more. He had been so deprived for so long, he felt like he had to make up for lost time. So he went to one of the commanders of the workers building the pyramids. He offered him a potion that would let the workers work longer and faster. The commander was reluctant, but after Sh'Khoomda'Ka showed him his hypnotic manhood, the commander was eager to try out the potion.

It worked better than promised. The workers who used it tired less, to the point where they were able to work into the night. The commanders were overjoyed, since they would now not only meet but exceed their deadlines. Hundreds of workers were using the potion by then. The commanders begged for more, but Senen-khu told them the supply was, unfortunately, limited.

Which it was, since it was composed mainly of his diluted essence. Copious as the supply was, it was not infinite. He was able to use the seed of those he had converted as well, as it contained some of the same properties.

It did enable him to feed minimally from any of the workers who had used the potion. He never went hungry for many years after that.

When Egypt began declining centuries later, he saw the signs. He laid the groundwork to move to Greece. The Olympics, though not his idea, was the goal that encouraged many young Athenians to train with him.

After Greece fragmented, there were no other cultures that had the body ideal that Sh'Khoomda'Ka could use. But he had learned from the Egyptians. He set himself up as a god in various isolated areas, where he had the natives build monuments to him. Though not as rich a food supply as he had in Egypt or Greece, it was enough to satisfy him.

Then he found out that there was a segment of society in India that desired to improve their bodies. This was during what the Western World called the 11th century AD. So he moved there and built what would later be known in other parts of the world as gymnasiums. He was able to live and feed quite well until the 16th century, when interest in exercising for body improvement waned.

The next three centuries were difficult for Sh'Khoomda'Ka, and feeding was sporadic at best. Then, during the 19th century, the idea of the professional strongman seemed to come out of nowhere. Sh'Khoomda'Ka moved to Europe, and was able to find a few of these strongmen to accept his gift.

But there was something missing. The strongmen cared only about strength, not the aesthetics of the body made strong. He had never thought about such things until he had spent all those centuries with the Greeks. They made him realize that his body was the ideal they strove for, and that most of those who accepted his gift took on a similar form as well. The strongmen, though, just became great hulking slabs of muscle. No symmetry, no proportion. It was what the goal of the strongman was, strength for the sake of strength, and nothing else.

Which meant that what the recipient of the gift wanted affected the results as much as what Sh'Khoomda'Ka wanted. Perhaps even more. Always before the recipients had been impressed by Sh'Khoomda'Ka's physique, which meant they wanted to look like him to some degree. But the strongmen were different. They all were amazed at the size of Sh'Khoomda'Ka's muscles and what they could do, not how they looked.

So there was a sort of emptiness to the feeding. Still, it was infinitely better than starving, as he nearly had for the last few hundred years.

Near the end of the 19th century, though, he sensed a need like he had not in centuries. No, millennia. It reminded him intensely of the Greeks. He followed the beacon of need until he found the source in England.

Eugen

He called himself Eugen. He was born in Russia, but had moved west to make a name for himself. He had studied ancient Greek statues and had modeled his exercise regimen to obtain that classical physique. He was getting requests all over England to perform feats of strength. But he also included posing to show off his physique as well. Sh'Khoomda'Ka knew, somehow, that this man was the answer to prayers he had not even realized he had made.
So he went to Eugene, who was staying at an inn in a small English town. He made the offer, which Eugene did not believe. These modern times were so filled with skepticism, thought Sh'Khoomda'Ka. Eugene's lack of desire for men also did not help. But once Sh'Khoomda'Ka took off his coat and shirt and showed his upper body, Eugene was almost as mesmerized as if he was seeing Sh'Khoomda'Ka's manhood. In all the ages he had lived, that had only happened six times. It only confirmed how special Eugene must be.

Sh'Khoomda'Ka removed the rest of his clothes. Eugene held his breath, and then agreed to the gift. Before he left the inn the next morning. Eugene belonged to Sh'Khoomda'Ka. Over the next 30 years, Eugene developed and popularized his ideas of achieving the Grecian ideal. The rebirth of the Olympics (which Sh'Khoomda'Ka did as much as possible to encourage) dovetailed with that concept. Eugene died in the 1920s, but by then the sport of modern bodybuilding had been born. It only grew through the rest of the twentieth century.

One of the epicenters for the sport was Venice Beach, a/k/a Muscle Beach. As early as the 1930s, it became a haven for bodybuilders. It remained so through the decades, which is why Sh'Khoomda'Ka moved there and opened his first American gym. He sold it after 10 years, and then opened another one a year later. He continued that pattern, more or less, from then on. He had opened his most recent, SteveBuilt Gym, in 1996. It was so successful that Sh'Khoomda'Ka, now going under the name Steve Mazikimon, had kept it running longer than any of his prior ones. It had also proved to be one of the most fertile feeding grounds in ages.

Especially with the refinements to the potion he had created thousands of years ago in Egypt. One of the many benefits of his extended existence was that he was now, quite literally, the richest being on the entire planet. Which meant he could hire the most brilliant minds on Earth and have them work on any project he wished. Like refining his potion, which had been going on since after World War II.

Sh'Khoomda'Ka had never understood why his gift could only be given to those who consented. Over time, there had been many whom he had desired, who refused the gift. Some because they did not desire men and did not wish to change that, which was an unavoidable consequence. Some believed he was the devil, and there would be infernal repercussions to acceptance. There were other reasons, but he was tired of all of them. Who were they to turn down his gift? They should be honored, grateful beyond words. If he wanted something, or someone, he should have it. Where would they be, without him? Probably still scrabbling around in the savannahs, hunting with spears. Or maybe even extinct. The human race owed him more than it knew. What did it matter if he took whatever man he desired, not just those who chose to be his?

Thus, the project. And within the last 5 years, the team had achieved his dream. The SB Protein Complex was fast growing to be the top nutritional supplement for anyone interested in natural physical enhancement. Bodybuilders, football players and other athletes, all sang its praises. It amused him that it passed all the tests for steroids and hormones. Because, of course, the main ingredient was nothing more than protein, as far as the tests could tell.

But the effect of the other components with that protein, that was the revelation. The scientists had found the right combination that would enhance its mind-altering properties. Anyone that took the supplement for a more than two weeks would be unable to resist Sh'Khoomda'Ka, and would give themselves to him without question.

He had only tried it on a number of men, with varied results. All the men submitted, and accepted the gift and became his. However, the transformation process was… inconsistent. Most often, they became more muscular. Their muscles bigger and more defined.

However, a few became more unnatural. Some would get huge arms only. Others had enlarged chests with impossibly narrow waists. Some became taller, but looked like they'd been stretched on a wrack. A very few became insanely muscular all over. And all of those so unnaturally changed became simple-minded. Their only concerns were working out to get bigger, more muscular, and sex.

So they were hidden away. Which was easy. A room with weight-lifting equipment and they were happy. They had to be fed and taken to the bathroom, though. Their desire to workout was greater than anything, except when they needed to have sex.

Which was about twenty percent of the time. Sh'Khoomda'Ka would visit them sometimes, as he found coupling with a near mindless sex beast every so often oddly relaxing. He could also feed on them, though it was rather bland. But somehow they produced more 'food', so if he felt like gorging, he could do so until he was more than sated.

~~~

Lucas and Adam

Adam could see again. See that both Steve and Lucas were naked. Lucas was in amazing shape, but Steve. Steve was beyond amazing.

From Sh'Khoomda'Ka's memories, he knew what the being looked like. But second hand remembering versus the real thing, totally different. Then he saw Steve's manhood. Pulsing, throbbing, ready to be buried inside him. To transform him into a muscular minion, food source and plaything for something that was older than people. And he couldn't wait. He knew it was the supplements, and Steve's power, but he still wanted this. He whimpered at the thought of being penetrated by his soon-to-be master.

"Good. Lucas, stand in front of Adam. Adam, remember the best blowjob you ever had. Better yet, remember the best I ever had. Now duplicate that as best you can on Lucas." Adam complied. Lucas' moans demonstrated how well he was doing. Then he felt Steve behind him, his manhood pressing against his ass. "I find it helps the process if one of my special boys is at one end when I'm at the other. Relax and let me in."

Adam obeyed and Steve entered smoothly. There should have been pain, considering the size, but there wasn't. Inch after inch sunk in. Just when he thought Steve had stopped, another inch would go in. A part of his mind was amazed when Steve bottomed out.

"The time has come, Adam, and so shall we. Well, Lucas and I. Now, Lucas."

Adam's mouth filled with hot salty sticky sweetness, which he swallowed as much of as he could, barely hearing Lucas' groans.. Then he felt the pulsing inside his ass as Steve pumped into him as well. It felt like hot sauce coursing down his throat as a fire deeper down rose to meet it. When they combined, Adam felt like he was exploding. Then he passed out.

How long it was later he awoke, he didn't know. Steve told him later it had only been about 10 minutes. He was on the floor, with Steve and Lucas standing in front of him.

"Stand up, Adam." Adam rushed to obey.

"Outstanding," said Steve, running his hands all over Adam's body. He shivered from the thrills everywhere that Steve touched him. "The chest bigger, the waist narrower, the dick not much bigger, the face a tad prettier. Arms, legs, lovely. Couldn't be happier."

Hearing how much his master liked his new appearance almost made him faint. Could this day get any better?

"I'm ready for round two." So, Adam thought, it could. Steve continued, "Here, let me pick you up. You're going to ride me while I'm standing up. Mm, you feel so good. Don't want to leave Lucas out, though. How about you lean way back and swallow him? In that position, you should be able to get all of Lucas down your throat."

"Of course, master. I will do anything you want."

END

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