I approached and looked down, lifting his name tag so I could read it.. To his credit, he didn’t flinch when I entered his personal space, but he did give a slight shiver when my finger grazed his nipple.

“So tell me, Tom, what’s your game?”

“No game, Sir. When you walked in, you had a familiar look in your eyes.”

“And what kind of look was that?”

“Like life was caging you in. But Beasts like you are meant to be free.”

He put into words exactly how I was feeling. He saw right through me, saw the truth of my day, saw the truth in me.

“And how do you know so much about ‘Beasts’?” I asked, eyes locked on his, waiting for him to blink so I could pounce.

“You work here long enough, you get to recognize ‘types’. The fakers, the time-killers, and those with something… primal locked inside. Like you.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“If I know I served you well, that’s enough for me, Sir. The gym is now your kingdom. If you want it,” – he knelt down and lowered his head – “it’s yours.”

Tempting as it was, I saw the flashing red light of the security cameras, and wondered if I would find myself on some hidden camera video. 

“Red means ‘recording’, green means ‘live feed’,” he said, briefly looking up at my discomfort before lowering his head back down. “I can’t turn them off all the way, but I can stop the recording for you, Sir.”

I grunted and walked to the free weights, leaving the fag on his knees. He stayed there the whole time I did through my warmup set, never moving, never looking up. 

“You’re dismissed, faggot,” I said. He did not flinch at the word, and might have even smiled a little. He simply got up and walked away. I drank half of my water as I verified on my phone what he had claimed about the camera lights. He was telling the truth, and a few seconds later, the camera light turned from green to red and the overhead lights dimmed in a way that accentuated every ripple on my body in carefully placed shadows.

In the quiet of my sanctuary, my clothes began to feel even more confining. I looked up at the camera, knowing he was watching me. I removed my shirt and did a set of squats. The light remained green. I removed my shorts and did a second set. The light remained green. I removed my jockstrap and did a third set. The light remained green.

Feeling the cool air on my hole with every downward squat felt liberating. Only thing that would have made it better would have been a tongue there as well.

I drank the rest of my water and set the bottle down before looking in the mirror, appreciating my work. Thick vascularity running up my biceps, The definition that separated my biceps from my triceps. Thick chest with nips that begged to be sucked. Abs glistened in the lowlight. A vein on my Adonis belt that led the eye to the thicker vien that supplied blood to my thickening cock. I took in all the glory that was my body: naked, free, natural, primal, a beast.

Soft footsteps interrupted my narcissism.

“Sir,” – it was a new voice – “My owner saw you needed more water and sent me here to give you this. My name is Ben.”

Owner? I wondered, staring at the man – no, faggot – standing in a jockstrap, head bowed, arm outstretched with a fresh bottle of water. I snatched the bottle and cracked the top. “So you’re his faggot?”

“Yes, Sir. He is my Alpha, just like you are his.”

I didn’t remember claiming faggot-Tom, but I went with it. 

I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground. The faggot knelt before me. I rested my cock on his face like you would balance a biscuit on a dog’s nose. As I drank the fresh water, I could feel him breathing in my scent, but he was well behaved and did not do anything else; like a good fag.

I capped my water and looked at the camera. The light was still green. I knew he was watching. I slowly humped faggot-Ben’s face, coating it with ball sweat and a little precum that had begun to form. I turned so I blocked the view between faggot-Ben and the camera. I continued to hump his face, but to anyone watching in the camera, it would have looked like I was fucking his mouth. Twenty seconds later, faggot-Tom “happened” to walk in. He said he wanted to check up on us, but we all know the real reason and I scoffed at his lie.

I moved to the bench press, racked my weight, and straddled the bench. My cock dangled off the edge, so I snapped my fingers and pointed to the area below it.

“One of you needs to spot me. The other needs to make sure I don’t get a single drop on the floor. Don’t care which one does which.”

faggot-Tom came to spot me, which I actually preferred. No desire to look up and see fag balls tucked into a jockstrap as I’m trying to focus. faggot-Tom struggled lifting just my warmup weight.

“Fucking wimp.” I yanked the bar from him and began my set; slow, controlled, deliberate. I could see in his wide eyes how much he was enjoying watching a real man lift. 

Between sets, I sat on the bench. From behind, faggot-Tom massaged my pecs, helping with the circulation. From below, I heard faggot-Ben make the occassional whimpers as my precum dripped down.

Chest done, I looked around, wondering where to go to next as the two faggots knelt at my feet. That’s when I felt something.

“Limits?” I ask, drinking the rest of my water

“No scat, nothing that will send me to the hospital.”

“Same for me. And no kissing, but we wouldn’t expect a Man like you would kiss faggots like us.”

“Which one of you two is ‘thirsty’?” I asked.

faggot-Tom pointed to faggot-Ben who smiled with pride. I threw my empty water bottle across the room. “More,” I ordered faggot-Tom, “and don’t come back with clothes on.” He ran off to obey. 

I grabbed my cock and pointing it at faggot-Ben’s now opened mouth. “If you spill a drop, I’m walking out and you can explain to the other faggot why. But if you swallow it all, you may suck it when you’re done. Understood, faggot?”
“Yes, Sir!”

I rested the head of my cock on faggot-Ben’s lower lip and relaxed, letting my piss flow into his mouth. His lips would close on my cock as he gulped and swallowed, but he always returned to the neutral position as he should. faggot-Tom had returned by now and watched in awe as his fag-brother masterfully swallowed my full bladder of piss. Not a drop was spilled, and it was impressive. As I finished pissing down fag-Ben’s throat, I motioned for fag-Tom to come closer. I took a small sip of water, rolled it around in my mouth to mix with all of the thickest saliva, and spat it in his mouth. He dropped to his knees when I was done, shaking with appreciation, thanking me for his reward.

“What about your reward, faggot?” I asked fag-Ben. “You want it now, fag?” 

“If you want me to have it, yes, Sir.”

I had faggot-Ben lay on his back, arms kept at his sides. I straddled his face and got into a planking position. I lowered my cock into his mouth and alternated between 10 pushups and 30 seconds of planks. After 4 sets of that, I felt that my workout was over. It wasn’t a full workout session, but the beast inside me needed to breed.

I let the fags kiss as I caught my breath. My precum, my sweat, my piss: they were all being shared by the fag couple. I felt the power that comes from knowing it was my fluids that they were bonding over.

“How do I taste?” I stood before them, letting the water drip down, merging with the sweat, and trickling down the rivets of my muscles.

“Amazing!” they said in unison.

I stood them up and had them face the mirror, one on either side of me. They were about the same height, and both reached only my nipples. I had them try and mimic my poses in the mirror, but it was embarrassing for them, hilarious for me. My wrists were as big as their arms, my arms bigger than their thighs, and my thighs… well… big enough I could suffocate them in a headlock without even trying.

I popped an abdominal and thigh pose, arms up and behind my head, and held it. 

“Taste me.”

The fags each went for a hairy armpit; licking my sweaty musk and huffing my pheromones directly from the source. I just stood there, watching it all in the mirrors, flexing my abs under their fingertips, leading their mouths to my nips to suck on in sync, guiding eager hands to my veiny cock that throbbed to their touch.

“Follow me,” I said, not giving much of a choice as my hands wrapped around their pencil necks and dragged them closer to the mirror. I grabbed two heavy dumbbells and positioned the fags facing each other. I stood between them, walked my cock into fag-Tom’s mouth as fag-Ben scooted behind to add the taste of my sweaty man-ass to his tongue. As I did my set, they worshiped my cock and ass with their mouths, savoring my flavors as their hands roamed my body, careful not to get in the way of the dumbbells. 

After the first set, I set the dumbbells down, grabbed fag-Tom by the back of his head, and skull fucked him until his throat submitted and felt the delicious sounds of glugging on my cock.

After the second set, I reached behind and made fag-Ben lick so deep, he was practically eating the inside of my hole. By the time I was finished with my third set, they were breathing so heavily, you’d have thought they were the ones who had been lifting.

Stay Tuned for Part 3 coming soon!