The Muscle Temple (Patreon)

This was a story commission for Mark Josefsson who wanted a muscle theft story between a gym manager and a scrawny guy applying for a job - hope you all enjoy! 

Marcus was the kind of guy who achieved his dreams, it was really that simple. As a kid he’d wanted nothing more than to be a national champion-level bodybuilder and by twenty-two he’d done just that. As such, when Marcus decided that he wanted to run his own gym, he was dead set on making that dream a reality too. 

It wasn’t long before he’d opened The Muscle Temple and ten months later business was burgeoning. His reputation in the bodybuilding world and the popularity of his various social media accounts had certainly helped bring in members and that number was only rising with each passing week. Marcus had made a rich man out of himself and was relishing all of the success that he had willed into being.

With that success though came the increased demands of his gym’s members though and as the sign-ups for personal training sessions started getting too long for himself, his assistant manager and their two trainers to handle, Marcus made the executive decision to advertise for another trainer to join their team. Of course there was a certain kind of guy he was looking for; not just anybody would fit in with the little crew he’d built up to help him run The Muscle Temple. They needed to be passionate about bodybuilding, easy-going and have a great sense of humour, plus they obviously had to have a good body. Part of selling The Muscle Temple to potential members was having the staff all buff and beautiful - who in the hell wanted training from somebody out-of-shape or, worse, as skinny as a rake?

The first few applicants for the position were by no means bad but they hadn’t given Marcus that instinctive approval that he’d had when he’d interviewed Jonny, his assistant manager, or Blake and Jordan, his two trainers. He’d told all three of the applicants that he’d interviewed over the past week that he’d be in touch, only to let them down a few days later with a phone call bluntly explaining that he didn’t believe they’d be a good fit for his team. There had been some sputtering of disappointed voices in response but Marcus’ word was law and he refused to feel bad about going with his gut. The Muscle Temple was the closest thing he’d ever get to a child and he wasn’t having it looked after by guys he didn’t totally trust.

Marcus knew that the fourth applicant definitely wasn’t right for the place just on looks alone. The guy stood maybe five-six and looked like he weighed one-hundred-thirty pounds at maximum! He had a total babyface too, if it wasn’t for the few wispy hairs on his chin that constituted a weak attempt at stubble then he might have been mistaken for still being a teenager. Truthfully, Marcus wasn’t sure the guy had ever actually stepped foot in a gym before. He was certainly looking around with wide eyes, either amazed or stunned by the high quality and expensive equipment The Muscle Temple had to offer its members.

“You… Robbie?” Marcus inquired, meeting the smaller man halfway and double checking the name on the application form. He now regretted not insisting that the application form included height and weight indicators but apparently that wasn’t “politically correct” anymore. If he’d known that he was going to be meeting an extra from The Hobbit he would have made it clear that Bobby needn’t even turn up to be interviewed. Still, the dude was there now and Marcu wasn’t a total dick. He supposed he could entertain himself with the other for a little bit.

“Uh, I just go by Robert,” the young man replied with a meek smile, offering his hand. Of course his grip was limp and Marcus detected a wince as he applied some of his superior strength to the shake. There was really no denying who was the stronger man between them. The shrimp probably had the same amount of strength as the goliath bodybuilder had in his pinky finger!

“Sure thing, Robbie,” Marcus replied with a bright smile, letting the other’s hand go. “Why don’t you follow me into my office?” He turned and began leading Robbie through the gym towards the manager’s office, hardly able to hide the smirk from his face as a few of his gym regulars caught his eye. He even passed by Jonny, who gave him an inquisitive look, but Marcus just shrugged one of his broad shoulders at his assistant manager. No doubt he’d have a good story to share with the other later.

Once they were away from prying eyes and in the privacy of the office, Marcus was able to get a real good look at his latest applicant. Every little piece of Robbie’s body language highlighted his nerves even as he attempted to appear calm and collected; the jittering leg and scratching behind his ear were a dead giveaway. There was actually a very subtle bump in his upper arms that showed at least an attempt at developing biceps but also made clear that he was hardly capable of training his own body, let alone training others.

“So, let me be honest with you, Robbie,” Marcus started, enjoying the grimace caused by deliberately getting the other man’s name wrong. “You don’t really have the look we’re going for with our trainers. You know, the physique. As in, you don’t really have a physique. You’re like a bunch of twigs stuck together with sellotape!” Blunt and rude? Absolutely. Did Marcus enjoy saying it though? Again, absolutely. “Your application said you’re a qualified trainer but looking at you… I’m calling bull on that. Pretty sure the only thing you’ve been working out is your forearm and wrist, if you know what I’m saying.” The look of shock on Robbie’s face was simply beautiful to behold and all but invited Marcus to continue. “You probably just applied for this position for the chance to get up close to some big guys, right? You turned on by muscle or something?”

Robbie’s eyes burned as the gym manager lifted his arm and hit a bicep flex, the mountainous muscle rising to its extraordinary peak. Marcus knew he looked damn good - everybody told him so and he had the trophies from his physique shows to prove it too - but there was something about showing off to pathetic wannabes like Robbie that really got him going. It was a good thing there was a desk covering his crotch because he was actually starting to tent his workout shorts. Humiliating little guys could be a real turn-on for him and seeing Robbie sat frozen there, his mouth slightly ajar as if wanting to speak but unable to think long enough to form any words, was definitely getting his body going. The bodybuilder even lazily dropped a hand under his desk for a teasing stroke across his long shaft which was only getting harder by the second. Staring at those pretty lips while he casually continued teasing himself though did give Marcus something of an idea. A dirty, no-good but oh so wonderfully tempting idea…

“I guess there might be a job for you here though,” he announced suddenly, dropping his cocky smirk for a moment to adopt a more thoughtful expression. He’d give Robbie a moment of hope just to whisk it away; just another piece of his fun. “You know, wiping down the equipment after the real men use it. Mopping the floors. Collecting the sweaty towels. You think that’s something you could manage, little guy?” By now the smug look had returned to his face and he was barely bothering to hide the fact that his hand was moving in a back-and-forth motion under the desk, continuing to stroke his hard length through the thin fabric of his workout shorts.

Any man with rational thought and even a small amount of self-respect would have already stormed out or even tried to swing for Marcus but not Robbie, oh no. It was so obvious for Marcus to see that Robbie was a total beta male - always in the shadow of real men like himself and, whether they wanted to admit it or not, born to serve. Luckily for Robbie even beta males had their uses. “I really want to be a trainer,” the other finally spoke up, his voice timid and weak. “But if you won’t let me… I’ll take whatever you can give me.” His eyes had even flickered down towards the desk, behind which Marcus’ hard cock was all but begging for attention. 

Pushing his chair back and pushing his muscular legs out wider, Marcus used his free hand to beckon the smaller man closer. “I’ve got a lot to give you,” he remarked proudly, pushing his shorts and boxers down to let his eight inch rod spring free from its fabric prison. He didn’t usually allow guys to get the pleasure of sucking him off but he was damn horny and besides, he was already planning to deny the pathetic loser the privilege of tasting his seed. He’d pull out at the last moment and decorate the other’s face instead.

Robbie eyed Marcus’ proud monument hungrily as he rose from his seat and hurried around the table. “You sure do,” the weaker man agreed, sparing a moment to drag his gaze all over the other man’s humongous body and each of his beautifully sculpted muscles. Finally he sunk to his knees in the space the gym manager had made for him and wrapped his delicate lips around the head of Marcus’ shaft. The larger man was hardly surprised to discover that Robbie was a good cocksucker - he’d guessed as much the moment he’d seen the envious look in the smaller man’s eyes when he had introduced himself.

Taking a strong grip on the lesser man’s hair, Marcus soon began bucking his hips up, thrusting his cock deeper down Robbie’s threat. The smaller man really took it like a chap - maybe he wasn’t as much of a pushover as he looked at first! There was no doubt in Marcus’ mind though that this would be the highlight of Robbie’s week. No, his year. It wasn’t every day a straight adonis like him was willing to let a total dweeb like Robbie anywhere near his cock but for probably the first time in his life he’d manage to luck out. He certainly hadn’t had any luck in the genetic lottery, that was for damn sure!

“That’s it, buddy,” the mammoth man grunted, closing his eyes and imagining some buxom broad in between his legs rather than the disappointing sight of Robbie. Hell, even a prettier dude like Blake or Jordan would be preferable, but they were probably too straight to ever think about sucking cock. At the very least it gave guys like Robbie a purpose!

While Marcus had every intention of tormenting the other man by denying him the pleasure of tasting his rich manly seed, the truth was that the goliath of a man was quickly overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure of the other’s talented lips moving up and down his shaft. Robbie’s tongue traced patterns along his thick rock and teased at the tip at just the right moments, sending Marus’ hips bucking uncontrollably. His tight grip on the other’s hair was becoming less and less out of a desire to control the other and more just to keep himself steady as Robbie devoured him like a starving man presented with a full three-course meal.

When it was clear that his climax was rapidly approaching, Marcus attempted to bark out a command for the other to stop but his voice ended up caught in his throat and his strength temporarily left him, too overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure he was experiencing. Before he knew it the most intense orgasm of his life was ripping right through him and his whole body shivered as his load was shot right down the other man’s throat. Robbie took every last drop, his lips firmly wrapped around Marcus’ softening cock as if his life depended on it. The blissful euphoria of his climax left Marcus feeling utterly spent, more exhausted than he usually felt after cumming, even with the hottest of broads he had fucked senseless. His body was so lethargic he felt like he’d just squat his one rep max for a full set of ten reps and all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, desperately trying to recapture the breath that had fled from his body.

Finally Robbie’s lips removed themself from Marcus’ cock and the gym manager let out a long whistling sigh. His brain was still too fried from the mind-blowing orgasm for him to form any words, but it seemed he was the only one as Robbie was all too happy to chime in: “Took everything right outta you, didn’t I?” As much as Marcus wanted to deny that it was the case, there was a more pressing matter at hand - Robbie’s voice sounded so much deeper than it had just minutes before, when it had been nothing more than an effeminate squeak compared to Marcus’ own manly bass.

Finally prying his eyes open and bringing his gaze down from the ceiling, Marcus’ heart received a jolt as he watched the behemoth of a man remove himself from between his legs. Not even his powerful muscular legs, but his skinny short legs! There were several things wrong with the visual Marcus saw first, every single one making him panic, and his brain totally froze up trying to comprehend it. Where the hell were his massive quads, perfected from hours upon hours of squatting, leg pressing and countless other intensive leg day exercises? The tree trunks he should have seen were instead mere twigs and the calves he had once been so proud of had followed suit too, the muscles appearing so under-trained they were barely visible at all!

While the sight of his suddenly underdeveloped lower half was concerning in itself, the fact that the pathetic runt of a man who had been sucking him off just a minute had been replaced by a muscle-bound stud of a man was equally concerning in its own right. As the man’s head craned up to look him in the eye Marcus could still see the faintest traces of Robbie’s delicate features, only they were now hidden under a square jawline, heavy brow and perfectly clear skin. There would be no labelling him as cute anymore, he was undeniably handsome, and his appearance caused an unfamiliar stirring in Marcus’ gut. What the hell was that about?

A shiver of fear rippled through Marcus as the giant before him rose to his full height, towering over him like a skyscraper. Marcus’ gaze was caught by the bulging muscles of the man’s upper arms as he clasped his hands into fists and provoked the definition of his biceps and triceps to make their presence even more known. The dark green tee that had previously hung loose over Robbie’s slender frame now sat comfortably upon a powerful chest, outlining the edges of his meaty pectoral muscles while the short sleeves bunched up around his broad shoulders and delts. The other man looked him dead in the eyes as he raised his arms and hit a full double bicep flex, causing the beautiful mountains to peak. They had to be seventeen inches at least - a perfect match for his own!

“How did you… do that?” Marcus asked, his words finishing weakly as he heard the fragile, almost effeminate, voice speaking them. He raised a bony hand to his throat, noting that his Adam's apple felt less pronounced and his neck didn’t seem quite as wide either. He’d always prized himself on having a thick neck and booming deep bass voice as being signs of his superior masculinity and now he lacked both! Using his shaking hands, he pushed himself out of the chair and was horrified to discover that he only came up to the other man’s pec shelf and was forced to crane his head up to continue looking the other in the eye.

The smirk that Robbie wore upon his face made Marcus’ skin crawl, as if he was a deer being stalked upon by a wolf. “Like I said: I took everything right outta you,” the other man explained in a voice that seemed to shake the very room - and caused Marcus’ cock to twitch in excitement, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. “All the muscle, all the skill, all that virile masculinity… it’s all mine now, bud.” Every word felt like a dagger piercing into Marcus’ pale porcelain skin. “Do you know the best part though?” Sensing that the other expected a response from him, the regressed gym manager weakly shook his head, allowing the other to really hit him with the sucker punch: “You gave it all to me willingly!”

Caught between fierce denial and a foreign sense of vulnerability, Marcus remained absolutely frozen. He didn’t want to believe that he could have lost everything that had made him such a stud and yet there it all was, benefitting a man other than himself! His mouth hung open and for the first time since he was a young boy tears actively sprung forth in his eyes. He silently begged for reality to slam back into him and restore the equilibrium of the situation but no such thing happened. It was just the two of them in the room and suddenly Marcus was hyper aware of just how easily the other could break him, as if he were a mere twig under a heavy boot.

As the larger man grabbed him by the armpits and hoisted him into the air, Marcus struggled but it was all no use. He had no way of overpowering the behemoth of a man and was thrown over his shoulder with the ease of someone carrying a baby. The deep chuckle from the other man that had accompanied the action almost caused the tears to push forth but it wasn’t until he realized he was being carried out of his office and through the door that led directly into the locker room that his emotions tumbled over. With weak fists he pounded at the other’s broad back to no avail, until they finally stopped moving somewhere near the back of the locker room. 

“Put me down, man, put me down!” Marcus protested weakly, the sound of his own voice making him feel sick. He would have no such luck though as, rather than being returned to his feet, he was instead thrown forward with such force that he anticipated feeling the crunch of a bone in his back against the hard tile floor. Instead his fall was broken by a pile of something soft - although not so much that his back didn’t flare up with pain - and Marcus was left momentarily stunned. He had all of a few moments to recognise the tiny space he had been thrown into as the locker room’s used towel bin which was cleared out at the end of every day, before the lid was slammed down above him, plunging him into absolute darkness. With barely any room to move, he pushed at the lid but failed against the other’s strength as it was held down against him. His arms soon gave up strength and as soon as his resistance drifted away, Marcus heard the most damning sound of all: the clicking of a lock!

Truth be told Marcus wasn’t sure how much time passed between the retreating heavy footsteps and the gentle whistling that signalled somebody new approaching. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. He had shouted himself hoarse and could merely whimper out a cry for help. A few moments later and there was a tiny click before the lid of the towel bin opened and a familiar handsome face looked down at him in disbelief - Jonny! “How the fuck did--” the other began, before recognition flashed in his assistant manager’s pretty blue eyes. “Marcus?!”