Late Night Gym Squash (Patreon)

Belonging to a 24 hour gym means Andre can lift after his bouncer shifts. It’s the perfect way to burn off all his aggression after work, checking IDs for privileged college kids and tossing out scrawny punks by the collar of their polo shirts. When he finishes his shift, STAFF t-shirt stained with spilled drinks and stinking of vape smoke, he crams his big body into his Toyota, drives over to Global Fitness, and swipes his keycard to gain access to a (usually) totally empty gym.

Except that night, it wasn’t empty. That night, Andre strode into the gym, duffel bag over his shoulder, and saw some big blonde meathead making a puddle of sweat under the incline bench with three whole plates on each side–THREE PLATES!

For Andre to call anyone a “meathead” would be looked at by most as absolute hypocrisy. Andre usually towered over the college kids, except for the basketball players and some of the football team, at 6’4” tall. He wore size XXXL shirts, which usually fit pretty snugly. Every limb on his body was stuffed with hard, rippling sinews. The whole look was capped off by a wide jaw that made him look like he was built to gnash t-bone steaks whole.

But like most large men, he thought of himself as “big” until the moment he saw someone bigger. At that point, his image of himself was shattered, and the terms he bristled at when tossed at him started leaving his mouth at other targets.

So when he was the much-shorter-but-significantly-more-massive blonde in a tanktop, pecs bulging massively as he bared his teeth and grunted and moved 315 pounds with the ease skinny guys move the bar, his immediate thought was: meathead; roidfreak; juicemonkey.

…why the fuck would anyone want to look like that? Can that thick monkey even wipe his own ass?

These thoughts arrived without any self-reflection that just hours before he’d ordered what he called a “size maximizing cycle” from his dealer: tren, masteron and sustenon. His goal had been to add 30 pounds to his already 270 pound physique, to finally get him up over that coveted 300 pound mark that he knew he deserved; so I can finally look as big as I feel.

Had he paused, considering the similarities between himself and this massive man who slammed the bar back so hard the whole incline bench shifted back six inches, maybe he would have found himself a late-night lifting partner.

But people are complex, even simple-minded Andre, and the moment he saw this blonde hulk he saw an obstacle that needed to be removed. His dick twitched in his shorts as he realized just how he was going to do it.

He began by strutting to the locker room. He knew he shouldn’t–the gym’s owner had just begged him the week before to quit this–but he stripped off his work uniform leaving only his tight boxer briefs, the front packed so heavily that the waistband hung low, revealing a tuft of his jet black pubes.

As he walked out of the locker room, he glanced into the mirror. His pecs were too big to see past them, but he was pleased to see the bulge in his boxer-briefs bouncing with every heavy footfall. He winked at himself, knowing that–if his suspicions were right–this was exactly what he needed to catch the blonde hulk’s attention.

He lumbered past his new adversary, who was sipping something red from a water bottle between sets, toward the deadlift platform. The big blond gave him a head nod but he ignored it, paying only enough attention to verify that the other man was focused on him as he walked through the otherwise empty gym. On the deadlift platform he loaded a couple plates on each side of the bar, then started hitting some reps. He made sure the bar bounced his big bulge every time he completed a rep.

(Fuck, it felt good! Every little nudge got him excited, made his nipples tingle.)

He started grunting as he felt his brain chemistry starting to fire up, getting in the mood. He wanted to dominate this big musclehead in every way. Sometimes dominating another big guy consisted of tossing him around, proving he’s not stronger even though he might be bigger. Sometimes domination was simply about mashing their muscles together, awkwardly pressing their mouths against every bulging part of the other’s body until, muscles or not, Andre proved he was the alpha. And with this guy, Andre was in the mood for either.

He’d deal with the gym manager later.

“Thought I was here alone,” the blonde finally said. He had approached in the middle of Andre’s 405 pound set. The bouncer didn’t give the blonde an erg of his attention until the stumpy little musclefreak waved a thick arm. “I’m Garrett."

“Hunh. Ain’t that a girl’s name?” Andre said.

The confused the big fucker. “I don’t think–”

Andre hopped off the deadlift platform and threw his shoulders back. He was a good head taller than Garrett, who stared right into his now-sweaty pecs. It didn’t matter that the bodybuilder had more mass on him; Andre’s bulge was higher than Garrett’s. It was the ultimate domination metaphor.

“I thought you had to, y’know, work out fully clothed,” the blonde said, casually scratching his pec through his purple stringer tank, which hung down past his waist, almost entirely obscuring his (relatively) tiny purple spandex shorts. It was clear Garrett had a boner, stretching those shorts uncomfortably and even tenting out his shirt a bit.

“I only deadlift in socks and skivvies,” Andre said with a wink. He turned around to flash his massive glutes, grabbing his left cheek casually, then letting it fall (and bounce). “You should join me. It’d make me feel more comfortable if you stripped down too.”

Garrett blushed, but he’d begun sweating again, despite being “at rest”--bingo, Andre said. His adversary was into dudes, BIG dudes, and Andre was getting him riled up. The first domino had fallen, and everything else would land where it was going to land.

“I dunno, I just joined,” Garrett said, glancing around but seeing no one else. “I would hate to get in trouble. I really dig this gym…”

“You put all that work into building that body up just to cover it up?” Andre said with a wink. “C’mon. It’s just us guys here. Plus, you’ve proven you’re huge in your XXXL gym clothes. Let’s see how huge you are out of them.”

Garrett smiled, then reached over his shoulder and tugged at his tank top with one hand. He leaned over, struggling to get the shirt over his wide, swollen lats. A gentleman would have offered an assist, but Andre wasn’t one of those. Besides, this show was too good to interrupt.

Once he’d pulled the shirt off, Garrett took a breath. His nipples were tiny, his pecs as full and round as Andre had hoped, his abdomen a cobbled dome distended by drugs and whatever caloric surplus he was using to blow himself up.

“Now the shorts,” Andre said with a smirk. Garrett’s eyes immediately fell to the tiny tuft of hair sticking out over Andre’s waistband. The taller mound flexed his hips, making his package bounce. He’d worked up a sweat and a thick musk was coming from his groin, wafting toward Garrett, who didn’t seem to mind at all.

The bulky bodybuilder grinned widely before he tugged down his shorts. Unlike Andre, every inch of him was porcelain smooth. Decades in fluorescent gym lights left his bulging skin pale white (until he sprayed it for a competition, Andre assumed). Most impressive to the bouncer was the fact that Garrett wore only a tiny orange thong. As he turned back toward his loaded barbell above the incline bench, Andre was pleased to see the spaghetti-thin thong disappearing fully between the enormous globes of his glutes.

“VERY nice,” Andre called out as he watched Garrett press out a few reps of his next set. Something about his public semi-nudity, or Andre’s attention, had the big lug excited. His cock was rock hard as he pressed over four hundred pounds away from him. At each rep’s peak, as Garrett huffed in air, he would cast a glance toward Andre before lowering the bar, bending from its heavy load, to his pecs and pressing it away.

Andre approached slowly. He didn’t want Garrett to think he was too eager. The big blonde was already grinding his massive glutes against the bench when Andre finally straddled his lap. He dropped down, nestling Garrett’s cock between his own cheeks and giving it a squeeze before tugging down his boxer briefs, letting his own cock spring out with a THWACK against Garrett’s belly.

“Still worried about getting your membership canceled?” Andre said after leaning forward until the two men were pec-to-pec.

“Fuck…” Garrett said, breathless with need. Andre tweaked one of the man’s nipples and the blonde bitch actually YELPED.

“This is gonna be fun,” Garrett said, standing up and hoisting up Garrett’s legs. Shockingly, though his legs were each the width of a smaller man’s waist, they were incredibly flexible. Andre couldn’t believe the ease with which he tucked Garrett’s heels underneath the bar overhead, essentially folding the brute in half.

Andre grabbed either side of the laughably flimsy thong on his blonde meatpile and yanked. It gave way with a weak snap. Andre tossed it aside, spit on Garrett’s hole, and made the bodybuilder squeal with just a finger.

“Oh, you’re going to love this,” Andre said. He reached up to his shoulder, rubbing his fingers over a symbol tattooed there. He felt a strange warmth, a tingling across his skin, and immediately rubbed that same warm finger against Garrett’s crack. He felt the warmth transfer, knew the blonde’s skin was now tingling all over his massive body, unaware that a change was overtaking him.

He thrust into Garrett, surprised at both how tight the man was and how tough he was about taking it. He worked each of his nine inches in one at a time, leaning in to kiss Garrett each time he’d progress a bit further. Once he was in, he knew this was about to start getting good.

“You ready for something you’re never gonna forget?” Andre growled, buried to the hilt in Garrett’s pale white glutes.

“Fuck… yes… please…” the massive brute whimpered.

Andre guided Garrett’s hands to the bar, then surprised the blonde by pulling it from the rack. Garrett, his guts full of Andre’s hot meat, began sweating profusely as his arms, noodly with overstimulation, failed to hold the bar aloft. It sank down atop his folded-back legs despite his efforts to fight gravity’s pull.

“Oh, let go, big man,” Andre taunted as he started to pump his hips. Poor Garrett was overwhelmed. His arms gave out and the bar crashed down… squashing his ankles and his shoulders flat.

“Wh-what… what the…” Garrett said, his eyes rolling around wildly as he experienced a deep-dicking he’d been craving combined with the wild sensation of the barbell rolling down his legs, crushing his calves and pecs flat like a penny on a railroad track.

Most people thought the symbol on Andre’s shoulder was a tattoo. In reality, it was burned on by an ancient set of branding irons an ex-boyfriend used to own. Andre had no idea what kind of witchy stuff his ex- had been into, but the symbol gave him power over other men’s bodies, and he wanted this big bodybuilder flat.

The bar continued to roll down as Andre continued to pump away, squashing Garrett into a two-dimensional version of himself. His head and traps were still three-dimensional, but everything from his shoulders to the bottom of his pecs had squashed flat. His calves were squashed into his arms which got buried between them and his pecs, and still the bar rolled down. 

By the time it had rolled over his roided-out musclegut, Andre realized he needed to finish. He grunted loudly, finally emptying into the big blonde’s hole. Garrett’s little dick squirted as well, but a moment later the bar rolled down and squashed it all together: hamstrings, glutes, cock and abdomen, all flattened into one two-dimensional surface.

As cum drooled from his bobbing cock, Andre stepped aside the bench and grabbed the knob to adjust it. With a yank, the bench toppled into “decline” formation, causing the heavy weight to steamroll right over the rest of Garrett. He groaned as it crushed his head flat before coming to rest against the bottom of the bench.

Andre stood, gazing into the mirror and flexing as he wiped his cock with Garrett’s discarded tank top. “Don’t worry,” Andre said without even looking at his magically transformed partner. “It ain’t permanent. Just a quick little adjustment… All those big, bulgey muscles… Wanted you to feel like the TRUE bottom bitch you really are.”

He finally acknowledged poor Garrett after he pulled his boxer briefs back up. “Damn,” he said loudly as he sniffed his hairy pit. “Big man needs a shower! What do you think, Garrett?”

Now squashed flat (and folded in half at that), Garrett was just a pasty white sheet. His features were vaguely visible–like his fingernails, his nipples, a scar on his left hamstring–but the bulges and striations of his muscles had been hammered out by Andre’s magic and the force of the barbell. His face was still intact, his eyes still darting around, but his pecs had been pressed over his lips like dough flattened by a rolling pin.

Andre hoisted up the two-dimensional man and shook him out like he was a blanket. He inspected his new creation, flipping his face over to see the blonde hairs on the other side. He bunched up the flattened bodybuilder and held him up to his noise, taking a long, deep sniff. “Fuck, you still SMELL good.” He used Garrett to dab at his armpits, then wiped off his chest with him. “How was that? How do I smell, big man?” Garrett’s confused eyes conveyed very little of a response.

“Aw, must be quite a tease that you got flattened out by a barbell you were dominating before I came along.” He carelessly tossed Garrett aside. The bodybuilder landed in a pile. Andre straightened the bench, then grunted as he deadlift the bar, then hoisted it to chest height and pressed it overhead before setting it back on the bench’s rack. “Think I’m as strong as you, big boy?” he asked, grabbed the pile of Garrett and shaking him out again. “You just keep my crotch warm while I give this a shot, got it?” Garrett said, making sure, as he shoved the bunched-up flattened man to his crotch, that his face was right against the dampest part of his underwear.

“Think you can spot me?” Andre teased Garrett, who couldn’t even wiggle in response. “Ah, I better be able to press this weight! Those flimsy arms can’t hold much anymore.” He yanked the bar into the air, lowered it to his chest, then pressed it up five times before racking it. “Well, I guess I can’t do sets of 50 like you were doing, but still impressive, I’d say.” He stood up, using Garrett to wipe down the sweaty bench (sopping up the pools of cum they’d both shot out as well) before setting it aside.

“Now, if we don’t unrack these weights, the guy in charge is gonna FREAK,” he said, imagining how fun it was going to be when Tod, the gym’s manager, pulled him aside the next day. If Tod didn’t have such a huge crush on Andre, he probably would have been kicked out for sure. No doubt, he would get a stern talking-to while Tod saved the memory of Andre’s magical games for a private spank later on, the old perv.

“Good workout, big man! Let’s hit the shower,” he said, using Garrett like he was a towel once again. As he strutted toward the locker room, he moved Garrett sensuously across his body, holding him between his pecs as he squeezed them as hard as he could, buried him under his pit while he flexed his lat and pressed his arm down as hard as he could, then finally tied him around his waist while tucking his face inside Andre’s boxer briefs. He heard a soft moan from the flattened out man. “Oh, he likes it!” Andre said with a chuckle. Garrett murmured in assent.

Before heading to the shower, Andre tied Garrett around his neck and let him hang back as a cape. “Bet it’s weird not having any of those muscles anymore,” Andre said loudly. “Or a cock. But I happen to know this experience feels AMAZING. Being all flattened out makes your body CRAZY sensitive,” he said, running his fingers along Garrett’s body. “How do I look? From that angle, at least,” Andre said, flexing in the mirror, letting Garrett fall and flow down his wide, rippling back and bounce against his huge glutes. Garrett started making a lot of noise during this, clearly enjoying himself.

“Don’t have TOO much fun,” Andre said, untying his bodybuilder prize and strutting toward the showers. “Now, while I shower, I don’t want you to get bored,” he said, shaking Garrett out, then hanging him over the curtain rod so his eyes faced Andre’s body.

“Look at you,” Andre said in his deep baritone voice as he got close to the helpless Garrett, hanging upside-down, still squashed in half with his ankles by his ears despite his new form. “Just as hot as when I fucked you,” he said, searching the flattened man for his cock or butthole. Both of those features had been lost in the squash, mashed between other bodyparts for the time being. “No worries,” he said, licking along what used to be Garrett’s abs. “You may not have a cock anymore–in a sense–but now your whole body feels like a cock.”

Andre made sure Garrett got a good show. First, he flexed his arms as the water him hit him. He thrust out his pecs, turned around and bounced his glutes, then ran his hands down his hard abs to the veiny area above his big cock. “Remember when you had big muscles?” Andre taunted. “Back when I first saw you, I couldn’t help but feel jealous of all that MASS. God, I bet you turn heads whenever you walk through crowds. So big that BIG guys get intimidated by you. So freakishly huge and bulging… but I squashed all that out of you, didn’t I?” He stepped closer to the “towel” Garrett had become. “Remember having THESE?” he said, bouncing his pecs in Garrett’s face. “Or THESE?” he said, flexing his big arms. “Or one of THESE?!” He swiveled his hips, letting his cock swing back and forth in front of Garrett’s face.

“Actually, you’ve NEVER had one of those, have you, bottom boy?” Andre started to suds himself up. “That why you worked so hard to make yourself big? Cuz you were ashamed of that little cock of yours?”

He chuckled as he soaped his body. “Nah, I’m just playing,” he said. “I have to say, when I first saw you, I wanted to dominate you, but now that I’ve been inside you… and had you all over me, I gotta say… I’m really starting to like you, muscleman.”

Finished, he turned off the shower, then approached Garrett, who couldn’t have moved even if he had wanted to (which, in truth, he hadn’t). “I don’t just mean ‘as a towel’ either,” he said, wiping himself dry with Garrett, making sure to take an extra-long time between his cheeks and drying his groin.

Finally, Andre walked into the locker room, spreading Garrett flat against the tile. “You ready to be a MAN again or do you want to stay my towel?” The towel whimpered and moaned. “What’s that? You want to stay my towel for the next MONTH? Man, wait until you take your first trip through the laundry. I’ve heard it’s like sex times a thousand!”

At that, the towel started to twitch and wiggle. “Look at that… it’s really easy to push your buttons, bottom boy.” He rubbed the symbol on his shoulder and coughed. In an instant, Garrett blew back out to three dimensions.

His massive legs, still tucked back, came crashing down as the blonde hulk felt all his mass return. He lay there, gasping for breath, an orgasmic fatigue on his face as his eyes lolled around in his head. Andre gave the man a few minutes to collect himself before reaching down and hoisting him to his feet.

“Great workout, big man,” Andre said, giving Garrett a kiss on his cheek. “Go ahead. Get reacquainted with those big muscles of yours. I’m sure you missed them.”

Garrett, still too cum-drunk to speak, flexed his arms while Andre shouted affirmations at him. “YEAH, you big fuck! Bounce those big pecs before I make you flat as a pancake again!”