My Boy

Part 1

Let's call him Kel, OK?

I met him soon after moving to Houston. I was hanging out on the patio of the Ripcord and the Rip was doing a booming business on my account. Not too surprising, really, considering I was even then (and that was three years ago) El Primo Musclebear. Thirty years old, 6 ft tall, 300 lbs, all of it muscle, enough fur to land me a Colt contract any time I wanted. I got LOTS of attention at Houston's only leather bar. The patio reeked of cum and beer and cigar smoke and poppers by the time I was ready to head out.

That's when I spotted him. Not a leather guy, at all. In fact, the type who looked like he'd be much more at home at Rich's or some other twink bar. Not that he was a twink. Maybe 22 or 23, like me 6 ft. tall but no more than 180 lbs. Wavy light brown hair, big brown eyes with long dark lashes, an oh-so-sexy mouth, and about the perkiest nips you'd ever wanna see. We came around the same corner from opposite directions and he crashed right into me.




That was HIS reaction, not that he said anything aloud. You could read it in his face. He took in the breadth of my shoulders, the thickness of my chest, the rippled power of my cobblestone abs, the monstrousness of my biceps - and fur, fur, fur, all of it covered in fur. His jaw simply dropped.

For my part, I immediately sensed there was something special about him, not that I could put my finger on it. A worshipper, sure, but there were plenty of worshippers at the Ripcord. This one, though, this one had something extra.

I stopped right there and started chatting him up, leaning my massive arm against the wall, my bicep about the same size as his head, putting one meaty paw on his chest, thumbing his right tit, noticing that every time I gave it an extra little THUMP his eyes started to roll up. Yeah, I thought, this boy has SOMETHING. But was it the SOMETHING I'd been lookin' for?

Turned out he was 23, just finished up his MIS at SMU, just landed a nice new IT job back here in his hometown, temporarily living at home but he was out to the 'rents and he'd just joined Fluid Exchange, Houston's best known predominantly gay gym.

"So you wanna get big, huh?"

He licked his lips.

"Well, yeah, that'ud be great," he answered. "I've never really gotten into it, y'know, and I really don't know what I'm doin'."

I gave that titty another thumbing, and a little twist. He sucked air between his sweet, sensual lips.

"You've got the frame for it," I told him. "Nice broad shoulders, slender hips, nice long muscle bellies. You can get nice and big if you want."

He looked me straight in the eye then, an almost pleading look. Yep, I knew he was special.

"You think so?" It was like a prayer, a desperate plea.

I rubbed my hand across his nice wide chest. This boy hadn't worked out at all? Not bad!

"Oh, yeah, baby, definitely. How big you wanna get?"

I practically begged him to say it.

"How big.?"

"As big as me?"

He whimpered.

"Oh, my fucking God," he answered. "Do you really think.?"

I put my mouth next to his ear, nipping his earlobe gently.

"You wanna know what I think, babe? I think you could be totally fucking awesome. You just need some guidance."

He reached out a hand.

"Can I.?"

"Do you wanna feel it, babe? You wanna feel what you can become? Yeah, babe, go ahead. Touch it. Touch the body you're gonna have someday."

His knees sagged and his face went into the deep crevasse between my pecs, his mouth inhaling my scent and my fur.

"Let's take this somewhere else, studmuffin. We've got some talkin' to do."

I'm not sure his feet touched the ground as we exited the bar.

We made love all night and half the next day. The Boy had the most beautiful dick I'd ever seen. Not the biggest, by any means, although at 8 x 6 it was plenty big enough. But just PURTY. Straight and sleek and perfectly shaped, not a blemish on it, the cockhead like silk. And he was a young 'un, after all. It got hard and it stayed hard.

That afternoon we headed to Fluid Exchange. I weighed him, I measured him, I queried him about his diet. Then I put him through his paces, getting him to show me what he already knew, showing him stuff he hadn't figured out yet, critiquing his form. He was like a sponge, he soaked up every word I said. I showed him how ONCE and then he knew EXACTLY how to do it.

I thought I could see him growing in front of my eyes.


We were back at my place, by then, freshly showered and ready to go at it again.

"Yeah, babe?"

He ran his hand through the fur on my thick chest.

"Why me.?"

I put my hand on his hard cock.

"Because you can do it, Kel. You can be the man I've always wanted to have by my side."

He looked doubtful.

"But I'm such a boy by comparison to you."

I laughed.

"A boy indeed. A boy with broad shoulders and a hairy chest and a big dick. A boy in a man's body and a body that's going to be the envy of any man."

He whispered in my ear.

"Are you sure?"

I answered him the best way I knew how.


Part 2

A year later.

I walked into the Ripcord kind of like an ocean liner pulling into port - the waves parted before, the little squat tugs floating in my wake. Kel's enthusiasm in the gym had spurred me to greater and great efforts myself. In a 12 months I'd put on 40 lbs. of solid muscle. At 6 ft and 340 lbs. I was as big as the biggest off-season pro bodybuilder and probably twice as hard - even at my heaviest my bodyfat percentage never made it above the single digits.

I paused on the patio before turning the corner for the far end. I knew that Kel had taken my spot and from what I could tell of the murmuring, whistles and "yeehaws!" he was givin' the boys a good show. I stood behind two big bears who were taking it all in, their eyes totally glued to Kel, completely oblivious to me, and listened in on their conversation.

"Who the hell is that sexy mo'fo?" Bear # 1 asked.

"You must be new to Houston," Bear # 2 speculated. "That's Boy Kel."

"Shee-it," Bear # 1 murmured appreciatively. "He's one built son-of-a-bitch, ain't he?"

Bear # 2 laughed.

"You can say that again. And that Boy Kel has the purtiest dick you ever did see."

Bear # 1 gave Bear # 2 a glance.

"So what is this 'BOY' thing about, anyway?"

Bear # 2 shrugged his shoulders.

"That's what they call him. He's got a master, ya know, who makes him look like a pipsqueak."

Bear # 1's mouth dropped open.

"And he's just as furry as Boy Kel is smooth," # 2 added.

"Sweet Jeezus," # 1 opined. "That must be nice. This Boy's a bit smooth for my taste."

# 2 replied.

"Oh, he's not naturally smooth, ya know. His Master makes him shave it all off.."

I decided it was time to set the record straight.

"Ahem!" I rumbled.

The two turned and looked at me, their mouths flopping open.

"That's 'husband,' not 'master,' and he shaves it because he WANTS to shave it. I'd just as soon have him rough, myself, but he's his own man."

The two gulped.

"Shee-it, Mister, he's one helluva fine man, too."

I laughed.

"Yeah, boys, he's comin' along right nice, don't you think?"

In the previous year Kel had exceeded all expectations, his and mine. He'd put on 60 lbs. of solid muscle and at 240 lbs. he was getting ready for his first bodybuilding contest, one that he had every chance of winning. And why the hell not? With no more than 5% bodyfat the Boy now sported a 55 inch chest, 21 inch biceps, a 30 inch waist, 30 inch quads, and 20 inch calves.

"Built like a fuckin' brick shithouse, Mister," Bear # 1 replied.

I dropped my thick hands on their beefy bear shoulders and gave them each a gentle squeeze.

"C'mon, fellas, let's go on over and meet Boy Kel, shall we?"

I used my BAR voice, the rumbly one that can penetrate any crowd, any sound system. Kel's eyes flew open when he heard it and he pushed away the big grizzly who was going to town on his crotch.

"See ya later, fellas," he said as he strode into my arms, his big beautiful cock poking out of the fly of his sweatpants. "Daddy's back in town."

Kel gave me the kind of greeting that causes grown men to cry, then said his howdy-do's to Bears 1 and 2, who we found out later were Frank and Jim. After we plowed both their asses, that is. Kel was getting' to be quite the top by that time. I'd had his sweet pecker up my butt more than once, just so's he'd get the hang of it, but off the time I had to do the driving, damned pushy bottom that he was (well, back then, anyway.)

We'd about worn Frank and Jim plumb out when one or the other of 'em (I couldn't keep the two sorted out, frankly, they might as well have been peas in a pod, for all the fact that one was a good ol' boy from Rosenberg and the other was Yankee Bear from Beantown) got all shy about wanting to ask something.

"Well, spit out, babe," I told whichever one it was.

"Well, we're, uh, like, wondering if we could watch the two of you make love."

I laughed.

"Without taking part.? What fun would that be?"

They stammered their reply.

"Oh, be-be-believe us, it will be LOTS of fun."

So we did it, or, rather, we did each other.

"You know the way I like it, Daddy."

I squeezed My Boy up in a big bear hug and then slammed him against the brick wall that was our favorite fuck spot. He wrapped his arms around my neck, having long since given up on getting them around my 68 inch chest, and I shoved his sweet man pussy down on my own big fuck tool. I thought Jim's and Frank's eyes were going to explode out of their heads, especially when I carried Kel - still impaled on my pulsating horse cock - back to our king sized steel framed bed and went to town on his sweet butt while he hung suspended from the bed frame, his massive arms drenched in sweat.

As for me.

Well, have you ever seen a 340 lb. furry musclegod get it doggy style?

The fellers said it was like watching Perseus do it to the Minotaur.

Who knew they had such a poetic turn of mind?


Part 3

Our second anniversary rolled around.

"Matt, whaddya think?" Kel called.

He was in our mirror paneled playroom, posing.

"Should I go back to natural?"

I sauntered over and started massaging Kel's 24 inch biceps. At 6 ft and 300 lbs of solid muscle, he was exactly the same size I'd been when we'd met 2 years earlier.

"Natural is good," I assured him. "You're never gonna be as furry as I am, although you're already as built as I was. Besides, that stubble can be a mite irritating at times."

He chortled.

"Like you'd notice, Furrball. You could light a fucking match on your cheek."

Speaking of which, I rubbed it warily.

"Ya think.?"

"Want me to try it.?"

I squeezed him up in a big bear hug and twirled him around.

"Hey, put me down, goddammit," he bellowed. "I'm not yer fucking toy doll or something."

I grinned, and lifted him up to the ceiling.

"Just what do you propose to do about it?" I asked, them tossed him on the bed, which creaked alarmingly, no matter how many times we'd reinforced it.

He pouted.

"Well, just what the hell CAN I do about it?" he wanted to know. "You still fucking outweigh me by 90 lbs."

Which was true enough. I still wasn't quite keeping pace with Kel's growth but anyone else would have been hard pressed to tell. At 390 lbs. of rock solid muscle I was one of the biggest men on the planet and quite arguably the best built. There were other bodybuilders who had my size but none who had my proportions and leanness. With a 78 inch chest, 30 inch biceps, a 38 inch waist, and 38 inch quads, I beggared the imagination. Most people couldn't quite comprehend just how huge I really was. Fortunately, Kel wasn't most people.

I stretched out over him on the bed, action he's likened to a total eclipse or being swallowed by a tidal wave, and looked down into his beautiful eyes.

"What's bugging you, babe?"

He looked to the side and bit his lip, then put his brawny arms around my Herculean neck.

"Am I big enough yet?"

I laughed, then blew in his ear.

"Big enough for what, babe?"

"Big enough to be your man?"

It was time for my jaw to drop.

"You gotta be kiddin' me, babe."

He shook his head and half looked like he was gonna cry. I rolled over onto my side, propping my head against my meat fist, playing with those still luscious nips of his.

"Babe, you've been my MAN from the get-go. Boy or no boy, the man's always been there. In your heart, in your soul, you've always been the man for me. And now."

He looked deeply into my eyes.

"And now.?"

I chuckled, then pinched his nipple hard.

"And now you are the biggest fucking musclestud of a husband anyone could ever want to have, that's what. 'Man' indeed. Yer a fuckin' monster."

He giggled.

"A monster? Or a fuckin' monster?"

I rolled onto my back and spread my monstrous legs.

"Come fuck me, Monster, and I'll let you know."

He loomed over me.

"My God," I thought, "That's what I looked like when we first met."

He read my mind.

"It was totally fucking awesome, seeing you like that. Do you have any idea how much more awesome you are now?"

There's a lot to be said for a mutual admiration society.

Especially when the admirer is Boy Kel.


Part 4

We’re back at the Ripcord again tonight, where it all started three years ago. We walk side by side through the bar, as big as any four normal men. The crowd parts before us as we take up our position on the patio. It’s always easy to tell the newcomers from the regulars, the open-mouthed awe of the newbies, the excited, gleaming expressions of the ones who know what to expect.

Kel is completely awesome. At 360 lbs. he has no more than 5% bodyfat, he’s exactly twice the size he was when I met him three years ago. The boy wanted to be a man, and now he’s as big as any two men.

And, yeah, he’s all natural again, golden-brown ringlets spreading across the twin hemispheres of his massive pecs, creeping down the crevasse between his mind-blowing eight-pack. The boys all like it, they like it a lot, especially with the buzz cut and the short-trimmed beard. The Boy is major WOOFDA.

As for me…

Well, put it this way. The two of us together weigh exactly 800 lbs., so do the math, OK?

That’s right.

440 lbs. of man.

Still furry as fuck, still no more than 10% body fat, my chest now well past the 80 inch mark, my biceps up to 35 inches.

Kel gives the boys a show, going through his mind-blowing posing routine. The look on his face as he flexes his awesome right arm, watching the 28 inch bicep peak higher and higher, a fucking volcano of muscle, is enough to get me all hot and bothered.

Then he gives them a shot of his mighty 72 inch chest, and rolls his mind-blowing 36 inch quads, before hitting a most muscular that brings the house down.

I can tell what he’s thinking:

“This is so fucking awesome!”

“I am so fucking huge!”

“I can’t fucking believe it.”

And then it’s my turn.

“Believe it, baby,” I whisper in his ear.

Kel shows them muscle, I show them STRENGTH. A few days ago I achieved a personal best, benching 1540 lbs. for a single rep, 3 ½ times my bodyweight. I call on my favorite bear buddies, Frank and Jim. They’re a couple now and they’ve made a lot of strides themselves. Still more bear than muscle but they’ve gotten bigtime into powerlifting – and these days they’re both weighing in at about 300 lbs.

I lift Frank above my head with one hand, Jim above my head with the other. Then I do some juggling, tossing and catching them in a blur of motion before sending them shooting across the patio to Kel, who sends them spinning into the crowd, a pair of fur-covered bowling balls.

Then it’s time for the final act.

Kel comes for me, stripping as he walks across the decking, his monstrous shoulders casting a shadow a mile wide. We grasp hands and I lift him up above my head, my arms fully outstretched. Then slowly, carefully but with no apparent strain for either of us, he flips himself into a handstand, the two of us together more than 12 feet tall, 800 lbs. of muscle and fur and dick for your viewing pleasure.

He flips down again, lithe as a cat, and turns his back to the crowd, burying his sweet head under my chin.

“Who’s your boy, Daddy?”