Addicted to STUDD

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. As such, the characters in this world sometimes behave badly without fear of consequences outside the imagination of the author or the needs of the plot. In this story alone there is mind-control, forced muscle-growth, unsafe sex with multiple partners and plenty of drug use. The author neither condones nor condemns anyone’s personal choices, but the cost of addiction is the theme of this story. Be warned.

I was driving over to Paul and Jeff’s after seeing them on looking to PNP. Not that I was much of a “player,” strictly speaking, but every now and again I pulled the proverbial pole out of my self-righteous ass and relaxed a little. I didn’t particularly like “tina” – like a good percentage of guys, I wasn’t able to get hard when I was on the stuff – but Paul and Jeff were both VERY hot (and built!) and our chemistry worked, so I indulged them.

Jeff answered the door, wearing the silver singlet he knew I liked, his dick already getting hard beneath the worn spandex crotch. Jeff had a wrestler’s body, even though he’d never played the sport – thick neck and upper torso with tight, strong legs – ripped, ripped and more ripped, not an ounce of fat on him, a tight, military haircut and a sharply square jaw.

“Hi, coach,” he said, smiling a naughty-boy smile. “Gonna teach me some new moves?”

I hugged him, running my hand over his rock-hard, spandex-coated ass, so smooth to the touch. I was a half a head taller and easily forty pounds heavier, so it was easy to support him when he climbed up onto my hips, wrapping his legs around my waist as I fingered his asshole by pressing the spandex with my big middle finger. We kissed, open-mouthed and sloppy. “I’m so fuckin’ hot for you,” he said, nibbling my jaw and neck.

“You’ve already been snacking,” I said, pushing myself into the house and closing the door. “Where’s Paul?”

“Up here,” I heard Paul say from the top of the stairs, as he stepped out of the master suite. He wore a jock strap and a pair of black, fully-laced army boots on his bulky, athletic bod – he was a big boy, not a bodybuilder, but a thickly muscled ex-gymnast. If he ever got serious about lifting, he’d be huge in no time. “How you been, Tommy?”

“Doin’ great. Glad I caught you online.”

“We’ve been keeping our eye out for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Jeff slipped off my hips and cupped my balls through my jeans. “We want that big dick of yours,” he said. “We love getting fucked by you.”

The two biggest bottoms in the city, in love but both having the same sexual needs – well, Paul claimed he’d been a top when they’d first met, but discovered that he was really a bottom because of being with Jeff; Jeff had apparently taught him to like it too much. So they’re both exploring their inner pigs and would scope around online to find a masculine tops to fuck them both, while they lay there next to each other and looked in each other’s eyes.

I was happy to oblige them. Although I wasn’t much of a rimmer – fingers were fine, but tongue…? – I sure did love to fuck. I was positive it somehow connected to my days as a wrestler in high school and college because for me it was all about domination – landing some guy, pinning him, pounding the hell out of his hole. And these two were manly enough bottoms to enjoy the ride, not delicate little party-bois that required love-making and sensitivity.

“We got somethin’ we want you to try,” Paul said, picking at his cock through the netting of the jock. “You wanna shower… clean up, or anything? We’re still waitin’ on Eddie.”


“You’re gonna love him, Tommy. He’s your type. Big, muscular, masculine…”

Jeff interrupted. “And hung like a horse!”

“We wanted to get fucked at the same time, have two big tops tag-team us and trade us back and forth like meat.”

I smirked. “Tonight’s fantasy sounds like fun.”

“Tonight… this WEEKEND’S fantasy!”

“Well, I’m probably not gonna do any ‘tina,’” I said. “I can’t get hard when I do that shit. You guys want me to fuck you hard for a long time, don’t let me anywhere near that stuff.”

“No worries,” Paul said, motioning me upstairs. “We got something better for you. C’mon up and get comfortable. Jeff’ll wait on Eddie.”

“Don’t you guys start without me,” Jeff said, his dick fully hard and forming a little wet-spot on the singlet.

“Never, baby.”

I followed Paul into the master suite, his muscular bubble-butt flexing back and forth with each step, framed in the straps of the well-worn jock. “You guys are weird,” I said with a little chuckle as I pulled the back of his elastic waistband – he was shaved completely smooth.

He shrugged slightly. “We know what we like,” he said, leading me in to the room-sized walk-in closet, which led in turn to the master bath, but had a vanity and large mirror that Paul was using for the paraphernalia. “And we like you and that big, thick monster you got.”

“Too kind….”

“Take your clothes off.”

As I pulled my t-shirt over my head, Paul lit the torch and did a hit, building an impressive chamber – when I opened my jeans and exposed my own black jock, he said, “Oh!” while trying to hold his breath. He walked over purposefully and kissed me, yanking on my nipples. As we kissed, he emptied his lungs into me, giving me the hit. “Dude,” he said, “you’re getting’ HUGE!”

I exhaled, letting out an almost imperceptible amount of smoke. “I finally broke 230,” I said, popping my pecs for him. “Didn’t I just say I didn’t want to do this shit? What are you trying to do, kill my rod?”

He laughed, lighting up the glass bulb again. “That won’t be your problem this weekend.” He took another healthy draw and offered it to me when he was done holding his breath – I kissed him and took the smoke quickly. I could already feel it – my dick chubbed out in my jock (although “chubbed” would be as hard as I would get on this stuff).

The doorbell rang. “There’s Eddie now,” Paul said, lighting up a third hit. “Wait’ll you see this guy – he’s fuckin’ AMAZING! We found him when we were in New York, and every month or so we get a taste for that big donkey-dick o’ his, so we fly him down here.”

“That must get expensive,” I said as he took the hit. He shook his head and offered me the bowl. I took it from him and lit the butane lighter.

While he held his breath, he said, “someday, we’ll have one of our own – we’ll keep him down in the basement we just converted and bring him out when we feel like fucking.”

I laughed and lit up just as Jeff and this Eddie-guy walked into the room.
Okay, they hadn’t been exaggerating – this guy was a monster, a smokin’-hot freakazoid. Over six-feet, two-eighty, two-ninety, hugely muscular, wearing only a fuzzy white spandex t-shirt and jeans so tight I couldn’t imagine the process he went through to get them on, much less how we were going to get them off. Although he shaved his head, the stubble of his beard cast a shadow against the lower half of his face, accenting his square jaw.

I almost choked on my hit – without missing a beat, this muscle-beast Eddie stepped up to me and kissed me, literally drawing the smoke from my lungs. “Hot,” he said, letting the smoke go. His eyes were gray-blue, sparkling beneath his heavy brow. “You must be Tommy,” he said, his voice on the low edge of baritone, nearly basso. He looked down at my torso, evaluating it – his eyes stopped on my jock strap, visible through my open jeans. “Nice,” he said. “What are you? Two-twenty?”

“Two-thirty,” I said, inadvertently flexing my abs and raising my chest a little, until our pecs touched. “Not as big as you, my friend, but I’m workin’ on it.”

He flicked his eyebrows and stepped back, cracking a smile. “You’ll get there,” he said.

“Sooner than you think,” giggled Jeff, walking over to Paul and kissing him.

Paul clapped his hands together and took control. “Let’s take care of business before pleasure,” he said.

“I’m all for that,” said Eddie, adjusting himself in his tight jeans, as if “talking business” turned him on.

Paul reached in a drawer and pulled out both another clean glass bowl and a small dime-bag containing two black, square-shaped aspirin-sized tablets.

Eddie grunted when he saw them. “One for this weekend,” Paul said, carefully tapping one out of the bag onto the mirrored basin, “and a little something for the big man, for coming all this way.” He handed the dime-bag to Eddie, who said “Thanks,” rolled it up and put it in the small pocket of his jeans.

“What is that?” I asked, glancing at the tiny cube on the mirror.

“It’s STUDD,” said Eddie, getting obvious about his growing erection. From the looks of it – just like the rest of him – there was something a little freaky about his package, too. “A big ol’ chunk of STUDD.”

Jeff piped up – his own erection blatant in his singlet. “It’s like… Viagra on steroids!”

Eddie smirked and snorted, dismissing Jeff. “Viagra’s got nothin’ on this,” he said with a bit of a smile. “Steroids ain’t kiddy-candy compared to this!” He reached down and shifted his own package – his hard-on was going to tear through the denim. “You ain’t heard of it?”

“It’s the newest thing,” said Paul, taking control as usual – for a bottom, he sure did like to be in charge. “It’s been around the west coast for a while, but it’s finally made its way to New York and now… here in my bedroom!” He picked up the glass pipe. “I got you your own bowl so we don’t mix our treats. Tommy, you’re welcome to keep this when the party’s over, okay? I don’t want it around here.”

“Wow, cool. Thanks.”

“Eddie, would you show our Tommy-boy how to do a hit of that stuff? He’s never done it before and I want him to learn right.”

Eddie cruised me up and down, sliding his eyes over my bulky torso. “My pleasure,” he said. “You got a razor blade or something?”

“An X-acto knife,” said Paul. “Hold on, I’ll go get it.” He darted out of the room, toward his upstairs office.

“You’re gonna love this shit, man,” Eddie said to me, rubbing his hand over his enormous torso. “It’s so fuckin’ hot.”

“Would you guys please take off your pants?” Jeff asked, squeezing his cock through his singlet. “Drives me crazy seeing two studs in pants.”

Eddie smirked – he had that bit down – “I’m gonna need some help gettin’ out of mine,” he said to Jeff. “You wanna help? You’re the one payin’ for me.”

Jeff deliberately sidled up to him, reaching into Eddie’s waistband. “Fuck yeah,” Eddie said. “Let the monster out.” Jeff popped the button – the first thing I noticed was Eddie’s treasure-trail, nice that a guy that big didn’t shave – then unzipped Eddie’s fly, exposing him in the same kind of black jock that I wore. I thought that was a cool coincidence.

So did Jeff. “This some kind of uniform? Some kind of Stud uniform?”

Eddie winked at me.

Paul came in with a pen-sized X-acto knife. “Starting without me?” he asked.

Jeff smiled. “Just makin’ everybody comfortable.”

“I’m not gonna be comfortable until I’m full o’ cum from these two studs,” Paul said, handing the small tool to Eddie. “Now show Tommy how to do this stuff so we can get this party started! I’m so fuckin’ horny!”

Eddie motioned me over to the vanity, so I could see what he was doing – Paul and Jeff did hits of “tina” while they watched. “This stuff cuts pretty easy,” Eddie said as he sliced the thinnest bit off the end of the block, “but you really want it to be thin, otherwise it reacts bad in the bowl.”


“You’ll be tempted,” he said, stabbing the thin little slice with the point of the knife and dropping it in the glass chamber. “You’ll WANT to do a big hit – you know, you’ll feel like it – but it’s better to do two small ones than one big one. You won’t waste as much stuff.”


“This is so fuckin’ hot,” said Jeff, as he and Paul traded kiss-hits of tina, both still focused on us.

Eddie held up the bowl and examined how the slice had landed. “That’s the most important thing,” he said, “not to waste it. That little brick right there can last us the whole weekend – longer if we end up wearing these two out quick.”

Paul laughed. “You aren’t gonna wear US out,” he said. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this – how long I’ve waited for it.”

Eddie’s smirk. “We’ll see about that,” he said, lighting the butane lighter. “I know what I got and…” he motioned to me, “he don’t look like he’s lackin’ much. I bet we last way longer than you.”

Paul said, “I’ll take that bet. Hell, I’ll put another tab of STUDD on it.”

“Done!” Eddie said, agreeing immediately. “Tommy, shake his hand real quick, would you?”

Smiling, I reached over to Paul and offered him my hand, flicking my eyebrows – laughing, he shook it, and pulled me in for a quick kiss.

Eddie put the pipe up next to his lip and approached the bowl slowly with the flame. “You wanna bring it up slow and wait for the stuff to melt a little, bubble like tar, then you can approach it more aggressively.” I saw the little square do exactly as he said – it melted down to the bottom of the bowl, then bubbled, burped almost, then filled the chamber with a thick gray smoke. Eddie took that hit quickly, then burned the lighter around the base of the bowl and got a tiny fraction more.

He held his breath, setting the bowl and lighter aside. His face quickly reddened and the veins in his neck stood out. It must’ve been nearly a minute and still he held on, a couple of times gasping some more air in, trying to stave it off even longer. Finally – finally! – he exhaled, and not a single bit of the smoke remained.

“Oh, fuck…” he said, leaning back against the wall, then added, “I love this shit.”

Paul said, “You do one, Tommy.” Jeff giggled and played with his own growing erection.

As I reached for the knife, Eddie said, “Remember, cut it thin.”

I did – I did cut it thin, paper thin, wafer thin – exactly as he had. I popped it into the bowl the same way, exactly as he had. “Okay,” Eddie said, playing with his nipples as he spoke, his voice a little lower, gravelly, “bring the torch up slow. You’re tryin’ to make it broil, see…”

The thin square melted and bubbled like butter on a frying pan – finally, the bubble burst and the chamber filled with dense smoke. “Nice,” said Eddie. “Put the heat on it now and slowly take the hit.”

A horrible taste, like leather and sweat, like resin and grime expanding in my lungs, not clean like crystal or dry like tobacco, it was hard to hold it in – I had to fight to keep it in. Eddie had made it look so easy. “Don’t let it go,” Eddie coached in my ear. “Draw in more air if you have to.”

I did exactly as he said, snorting air into my already full lungs. I couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Wait…” Eddie growled. “Just a second longer…”

And then – I don’t know how to describe it – the same way it had expanded in my lungs, the same way I’d felt that, so too did I feel it just… dissipate, suddenly collapse in on itself. When I exhaled, nothing but clean carbon dioxide came out.

It wasn’t until I inhaled again that the full effect hit. It just… washed over me, overwhelming me, blacking me out a little bit. It felt like I’d just taken the heaviest rep of the heaviest set and pushed past the threshold, beyond pain. Beyond power.

I felt the pump from my best workout, the elation from catching the winning touchdown, from scoring the impossible goal, the swish from a half-court hook, the feel of the connection between the bat and the ball just as you knowingly hit a grand slam, wrestling your opponent into immediate submission. I was in this mode of masculine ecstasy – the blood surged through my body.

“Holy fuck,” I said, grabbing Eddie’s shoulder to balance myself. I felt a sudden… brotherhood with him, a bond. I wanted to wrestle with him. I felt the urge to play like energetic juveniles.

“How do you feel?” asked Paul, picking at his own jockstrap.

Eddie chuckled. “Pretty good, I expect.”

“I feel like I just won the big game,” I said, flexing my upper body, popping my chest. Eddie and I shared a knowing fist-bump. He and I were teammates.

“Pants…” said Jeff, rolling his eyes.

Eddie and I looked at each other, the same stupid smirk on our faces, a pair of cocky jocks, and we stripped out of our jeans. Our pants were already open, our black jocks already exposed, but we both made the most of opening the flies the rest of the way, sliding the pants over our bubbled asses and down our muscular legs. Eddie was easily forty or fifty pounds heavier than me, my bulky muscle versus his shredded cuts, but I never felt intimidated by him, or looked down upon, nothing negative. Instead, I felt confident and cocky, fraternal and jocky (like in the locker room after a big win).

And once in our jock-straps alone, we could show off our growing cocks, swelling with blood and common need. Even there, he was bigger than me, but I had nothing to be ashamed of – I was long and thick and had split my fair share of asses. Hung tops always got invited to parties.

It was how I’d initially met Paul – I fucked him at a party – and man, we had good sexual chemistry. He invited me to his house to fuck his boyfriend, too, and that threesome ranks as one of the best experiences of my life.

Already, this moment was climbing the ranks. Eddie and I flexed for them a little, ab-shots, legs, most-musculars, as they played with themselves, sporting these knowing smiles. Wait’ll I fuck ‘em, I thought – I was getting hungry to fuck.

Eddie tapped me in the chest with the back of his hand. “Let’s do another hit then get to work,” he said, adjusting himself, then turning around to prepare a bowl. “Why don’t you girls go lie side by side on the bed and wait for us?”
They giggled – I swear to God, giggled – and backed out of the room. Eddie got busy with the bowl. Off-handedly, he said, “You’re hot. I was never that hot.”

“What are you fuckin’ talkin’ about, man? You’re fuckin’ AMAZING!”

He smirked again, chuckled while he handed me the bowl he’d loaded. “Smoke enough of this shit,” he said, “and you’ll be even better than me.” He winked. “Light up.”

So I did – and the intensity of the first hit had nothing on this. Like falling into the deep end of the pool, I was totally overwhelmed. By the time I regained my bearings, Eddie was drawing a hit of his own. I couldn’t stop flexing, squeezing my muscles like I was getting pumped before a game. My cock was fighting the tight webbing of my jock strap, hard and getting harder.

Eddie and I chest-butted, and I could see that he was as hard and pumped as me. “Let’s go fuck those two,” he growled in my ear. “Slam ‘em side by side like the little fags wanted.”

My teammate – my brother. “Fuck yeah,” I said, playing some wrestling moves on him, popping him in the head to get him a little angry, ready to hit the field. He slapped my ass and we went into the bedroom. Sure enough, Paul and Jeff were lying on the edge of the bed with their legs hanging off – all we had to do was walk up and slip our cocks into them. I had Jeff and he had Paul, not that it mattered much. All that mattered to me was my cock pounding some hot ass – at the moment there was nothing beyond that thought, either. Eddie understood – he was clearly feeling the same way.

Jeff was a good fuck for such a tiny little thing. I was so much bigger than him that it took almost no effort to lift his hips up to get a better angle. He had the hard, muscular ass of a wrestler, but firm and soft inside, like a velvet pillow between two hunks of granite. He wasn’t anywhere near as talented with his ass as Paul, but there was nothing wrong with getting off on Jeff. “Yeah, fuck me, Coach,” he moaned as I drilled him. Whatever. It felt so good to thrust.

I don’t know how long I pounded on Jeff – I lost track of time, riding the wave of the buzz. I remember at one point, Eddie tapped me in the chest with the back of his hand, motioning for me to look at our boys – they were looking dreamily into each other’s eyes and kissing romantically as we fucked them. We both laughed and bumped fists, then got back to work. I was dangerously close to cumming – had been for a few minutes. I think it’s what brought me out of my reverie.

“Gonna shoot,” I growled, increasing the rhythm of my thrust.

“Let it go, cowboy,” Eddie said, obviously close himself. “Won’t be the last one tonight.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Jeff moaned. “Fill me up with it!”

So I drove it into him, deeper than I had before, erupting this fucking crazy long load, this unbelievable orgasm, this overwhelming sense of masculinity and power. Holy motherfucking shit.

More than that, it barely took the edge off. I caught my breath and recovered before I’d even finished shooting. “Fuck… YEAH!” I said as I pulled out of him, surprised about still being hard. I was ready to go again.

“Let me lick it clean,” moaned Paul, as Eddie drilled his hole. “Hurry, before he shoots.”

“I’ll shoot when I fuckin’ feel like it, fag,” growled Eddie, humping away. “Tommy, shut him up.”

I walked… no, I strutted to the other side of the bed, hopped up and straddled Paul’s head with my knees. I began slapping his face with my cock, leaving behind wet blotches of cum. He opened his mouth, reaching for it with his tongue – what a fuckin’ pig. When he finally got it, he began cleaning it off like a dog, with long, flat-tongued licks. “Like it?” I asked. “Can you taste your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he said as he cleaned it. “Oh, my fuck yes!” He took my whole cock in his mouth, sucking it with the same rhythm that Eddie used to fuck him.

His mouth was nearly as amazing as his ass – it felt incredible! I was rock-hard and ready within seconds. “Yeah,” I moaned. “Suck that dick.” I began involuntarily humping, fucking his face.

“Hot…” moaned Jeff, playing with himself as he watched.

Eddie glanced at him. “Get ready, fag. I’m fuckin’ you next.”

Just as he was about to shoot up Paul, Eddie grabbed the back of my head and kissed me. Even our kiss was competitive, each of our tongues trying to dominate. He grunted when he shot, spitting into my mouth. That made me cum – and I filled Paul’s mouth until he nearly choked.

Eddie and I high-fived over Paul’s limp body. As he pulled his still hard dick out of Paul’s ass, he said to Jeff, “You wanna clean up my cock the way your boyfriend cleaned Tommy’s, or do you just wanna use my cum as lube?”

“Fuck me,” said Jeff, rolling over and offering Eddie his ass. “Please fuck me…”

Eddie smirked, looking up to find the same expression on my face. “I’m gonna do me another hit first,” he said to me, tapping Paul’s abs. “Tommy, why don’t you slip into this hot hole and I’ll make you a hit, too.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, marveling at my own cock. It was so full, bloated with blood, it looked bigger than usual. I slapped Paul in the face with it. “That okay with you?” I asked, then added “pussy” without even thinking.

“I want your hot cock in me for the rest of my life,” he said. “I wanna be a slave to your cock.”

Eddie laughed, walking into the closet where the stuff was. “Better be good, if he’s gonna follow this.” He waved his gigantic dick at us – it was at least a foot long.

“Soon enough,” Paul called back, laughing himself. He then turned his attention back to me. “C’mon, Tommy, get that big ol’ thing into me.”

My hunger didn’t diminish. I’d cum twice in the last half hour and here I was, STILL hard, and still horny as shit. Fucking Paul then, lubed as he was in Eddie’s cum, well, I’d never felt anything like it in my life – the very IDEA turned me on! “Harder,” moaned Paul, laying his head back. “C’mon, manhandle that hole. Make me your bitch.”

You want it hard, bitch? I thought. Take that, and that – I long-dicked him. My cock was fucking amazing! So big – so thick – so fuckin’ hot for ass-meat – I wanted to hear him scream. I wanted to dominate the fuck out of this pussy boy.

Eddie appeared beside me holding the STUDD bowl. When I moved to take it, he said, “You just keep pounding that fag-ass. I’ll take care of this for you, bro.” He held the pipe to my lips and lit the torch, building up a sweet chamber of smoke. When he said, “Take it now,” I breathed in deep, the entire foul-tasting hit disappearing into my lungs. I slowed my pace a bit while I held my breath, fighting the release just as hard as before, but when the hit was over and the buzz washed over me, my hunger to fuck grew – if such a thing were possible – and I tore into Paul’s ass like an animal, grunting and drooling.

“Nice,” I heard Eddie say, though I lost track of the next few minutes. When I finally looked up, I saw Eddie seated in the big chair on the other side of the room, taking a big hit himself as Jeff kneeled between his legs and sucked his impressive cock. Even Eddie looked bigger, more pumped than before.

It’s certainly how I felt. Big. Pumped.

It wasn’t until I saw myself in the wall mirror that I realized I WAS bigger. I watched myself fuck Paul for quite a while, impressed with the size of my muscle, watching it flex as I thrust. When I looked down, I could see my abs crunch like I was doing core exercises – abs! I hadn’t been able to see my abs in YEARS! What the fuck WAS this stuff – this STUDD stuff?

Not that I cared. I hadn’t felt like this much of a man ever in my life, even AFTER some of the big wins, the locker room scenes of my youth. Not that it mattered – nothing mattered. I just wanted to fuck!

And fuck I did. I was in Paul’s ass for a good forty-five minutes, slamming that little fag bitch, before he began to protest. He’d already shot a load on his abs and – thanks to the tina – was dripping out another when he finally spoke. “You gotta stop for a minute, Tommy,” he said, putting his hand on my hip. “I gotta catch my breath.”

I snorted and easily held him in place. “Yeah? Well, I gotta cum, boy, so why don’t you work a little harder and get me off?” It felt so good to talk that way – like a man’s man. Sweat dripped from my brow onto his face. That show of dominance brought me that much closer to orgasm. “C’mon, bitch,” I growled in his ear. “Play with my fuckin’ nipples. Be rough.”

And that’s what did it. Now, my nipples have always been – what do they say? – hard-wired, but they were on fire tonight. When Paul squeezed them, an electric charge raced to my cock. The next thing I knew, I was shooting a load that topped again what I’d already done this evening. It was so fucking good, I was sure I was roaring. I felt Paul cum again, too, while I was deep inside him – not that it mattered to me, or that I cared. All that mattered was me.

And again, it didn’t do anything to take the edge off – I was hornier than ever. Unbelievably, I was still hard. I slowly started to fuck Paul again.

“No,” he moaned, limp beneath me, exhausted. “I can’t. I gotta take a break.” He tried to push me away from him, but wasn’t strong enough. I was too big.

Debating whether to fuck him anyway, I finally gave in to him and pulled my still-hard cock out. “We’re not done,” I mumbled.

“I should hope not,” he said, still panting, sitting up on the bed.

We looked over at Eddie and Jeff in the overstuffed chair on the other side of the bedroom, Eddie’s mass seated in the chair while Jeff straddled him and fucked himself on Eddie’s gigantic cock. “Fuckin’ hot,” Paul said, watching them for a second. My cock twitched and I debated joining in, but Paul led me back into the walk-in.

As he lit a hit of tina, he shifted his weight uncomfortably – cum ran down the inside of his thigh. He offered me the bowl while he grabbed a rag and cleaned up. I did a hit, then reached for the other bowl, the STUDD bowl. “This shit’s incredible,” I said, slicing myself a thin chunk of the brick – which was barely a third gone. “You tried it?”

“Baby, I’m a bottom now, Jeff and Miss tina there saw to that. Right now, I just want to be filled with big ol’ dicks. Like yours.” He reached over and grabbed my slick cock with his cum-rag, giving it a cursory cleaning. “Look at your fuckin’ body already!” he said. “You’re already bigger.”

I certainly felt that way – I felt like I was pumped from the best workout of my life – but looking in the mirror confirmed that I didn’t just FEEL bigger, I WAS bigger. A lot bigger. “Holy fuck,” I said, flexing, staring at myself. It wasn’t my normal bulky self staring back, but me as if I were about to step onto the competition stage. My body fat was low (perhaps non-existent), my veins were pronounced, my muscle was pumped and full – and my cock, my glorious half-hard cock, hung there thick and imposing, the lines of my lower abs leading to this beautiful new focal point. And bigger – I swear to God, my cock was bigger. “Look at me!”

“I knew you’d like it,” Paul said, tossing the small towel aside and grabbing his bowl, the tina bowl. “And I knew I’d like you on it. Let’s get loaded up real good and then go fuck someplace private.”

“What about Eddie? You don’t wanna get fucked by him?”

“Baby,” he said, lighting the torch, “we got all weekend.”

Suddenly, there was Eddie, massive in the doorway – for all the improvement I’d shown, Eddie appeared as a professional bodybuilder now, ready to step on the Olympia stage (except for the body hair...). “If I remember right,” he said, rubbing his massive hairy pecs, “we got a bet on that.” He stepped over to me and slapped my ass, like a teammate on the football field – my brother.

Paul laughed, “Yes, we do. Yes, we do,” as he lit the bowl, flooding the chamber with thick white smoke.

“So, let’s see the brick.”

Paul took the hit, inflating like a puffer fish. He stared at Eddie, and while not breaking eye contact, he leaned in and kissed me, blowing the smoke into my lungs. I took it gratefully – I didn’t have to worry about E.D. today, maybe never again. “Sweet,” I said voicelessly, as I reached for the STUDD bowl. While holding my breath, I lit the torch and prepared the much darker tar of the STUDD.

“You don’t trust me, Eddie?” Paul asked, leaning against Eddie and taking his gigantic cock in hand.

Eddie smirked. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, boy, but you made a bet like a man and I wanna see you put up.”

Paul turned to me. “And what about you, Tommy?” he asked as I exhaled the tina and immediately inhaled the STUDD. “You need to see it, too?”

I shrugged – it didn’t matter one way or the other (other than there’d be more STUDD to do, of course). For all the good this shit was doing for my body, it sure did taste nasty. Vile. Still, I held the hit for all it was worth.

Eddie reached in the crack of Paul’s ass and fingered his hole with thick fingers. “Just put it up,” he said, “then we can get back to the best fucking you’ll ever get. You got TWO studs here, now, Paulie. And we are both horny, hungry men.”

I got the feeling he wasn’t happy about it, though it never showed, but Paul opened a drawer under the counter (containing the biggest bag of crystal I’d ever seen) and pulled out another dime bag with a brick of STUDD in it. He held it up, making sure both of us saw it, then tossed it on the counter. “Not that you guys are gonna get it,” he said.

Eddie laughed. “That’s what a bet is, boy,” he said, lifting Paul off the ground by his ass cheeks. Paul wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist and the two kissed deeply, while Eddie easily sank several fingers into Paul’s hole.

That’s what I was looking at when the rush of the hit washed over me. My suddenly re-erected cock led me toward them and I sauntered up behind Paul and pressed the head of my dick up against Eddie’s fingers – that hunger to fuck was creeping over me again. Eddie, my teammate, read the playbook and helped set me up for the score, opening Paul’s hole so I could slide in.

“I got Gatorades for everybody!” Jeff’s sudden entrance distracted us, and Paul used it as an excuse to dismount Eddie. “Oh, did I interrupt something? You should take a break anyway, replace your electrolytes.”

“Thanks bud,” Eddie said, taking a bottle, then stepping over to the counter to make a hit for himself.

“And look at you, Coach,” Jeff said to me, handing me a bottle, then rubbing his free hand over my now defined six-pack – I flexed for him. He pinched the tip of my hard cock. “You’re gonna be an even hotter muscle-slave than Paul thought.”

“What?” I asked.

“What?” asked Jeff, blankly. He was trying to open his bottle.

“What did you just say?”

“What? About what?”

“It’s nothing,” said Paul, suddenly jumping into the conversation. “It’s nothing. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He took the Gatorade from Jeff and opened it for him, passing it back.

“He said something about me being a muscle-slave for you. That’s what he said.”

Embarrassed, Paul stuttered through his half-smile. “It… just…”

“Oh, what’s the big deal about telling him?” asked Jeff, taking a slug of Gatorade. “Paul’s got this fantasy, Tommy, and he wants to play it out with you.”

I smirked, reminiscent of Eddie. “Is that all? Okay, I’ll play – what’s the game?”

Paul still stammered – he had a confused look on his face, as if he hadn’t expected this conversation – so Jeff continued explaining. “He wants you to be his muscle-slave,” Jeff said, clapping Paul on the shoulder and gripping the back of his neck. “He has this fantasy about turning a guy into some big, dumb muscle-head who can only think about fucking and growing bigger. He wants to keep the guy locked in our new, converted basement to be used like a cheap toy whenever he feels horny. THAT’S his fantasy.”

I looked over at a blushing Paul. “Really?” I asked.

Paul half-shrugged. “He takes all the romance out of it – the seduction, the addiction…”


“That’s what the STUDD’s for,” said Jeff, motioning toward Eddie who was right now hitting the bowl, sucking in some of the drug as example. “Look what it’s doin’ to you – it plays perfectly into my man’s dream-scene.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, popping the muscle on my pecs, “how addictive IS this shit?”

We all looked at Eddie, who released his hit – no smoke, but empty air – then started to flex, his veins popping as his muscle began to pump up again. His erection reappeared as he posed for us. “Do I look like an addict to you?” he asked, smirking. Watching him hit a double-biceps, I almost didn’t care.

Paul sighed. “It’s no worse than anything else,” he said, with empty gestures, “but it just… fed into… I mean, all my life, I… had this scene in my head. I… just find it so hot.” He punched Jeff in the shoulder. “You shouldn’t have said anything! Now I’m all embarrassed.”

Jeff hugged him. “I’m sorry, babe. Tommy’s just good at fantasy-play, is all. I figured he’d be into it.”

My cock twitched as Eddie handed me a newly loaded bowl. “No, it’s cool. I’ll play,” I said, as I lit the torch. “Sounds like fun.” Honestly, the IDEA of playing the role of big, brainless, muscle-stud turned me on. I was getting so horny. Smoke bubbled in the bowl and I focused on taking the hit.

“Are you serious?”

“Told you he’d do it!”

Of course I’d do it! The way this shit made me feel, it’d be easy! And play out a fantasy where taking more was the goal? That took about zero effort to agree.

The smoke dissolved in my lungs and I could feel the pump start – my cock rose thick and long, ready for more – making me that much bigger.

I could see how it could be addicting, though. I could definitely see how a weaker guy than me could have problems with it. It’s so powerful, masculine and good.

But I could handle myself.

So when Paul led me out of the room using the loaded bowl as bait, I followed like the desperate addict he’d fantasized about – why not? It was fun. Eddie laughed and clapped me on the back. “Save some for me,” he said – I didn’t know if he meant the STUDD or Paul’s ass. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered to muscle-studs but fucking… and I was starting to feel like a real muscle-stud.

“Come on, big guy,” Paul said on the stairs, “try to keep up with me.”

My cock was rock hard – I wanted that fucker’s ass. I wanted to fuck that fucker’s ass.

I wanted to smoke the rest of that shit, too.

I followed him down to the refinished basement – and while I did the hit he’d pre-loaded in the bowl, I heard him lock the door.

This was gonna be hot.

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