Here is another fragment from my current work in progress, the memoir of my life in muscle. I am often asked where I get the ideas for my stories. Some of them are pure fiction, fantasies, others are based on events in my life.

If you are familiar with my writing, you may know my story, published to the muscle-growth.org web forum, “The Office Boy”. That story was based on real events.

I was working for a firm here in San Francisco. We used to take in student interns for a semester. Most were good kids, earnest and interested in learning about the field. Then there was Nguyen (not his real name).

Nguyen was an intern of an entirely different sort. He was an accomplished and experienced bodybuilder already when he joined us in early May to spend the Summer semester working in our office.

Reminder, the images are not me, nor are they any of the people in the story. These pictures are for illustrative purposes only.

Only 5’-6” tall, built like like the successful bodybuilder he was, he walked into the office on his first day like he owned the place. Not only did he move with confidence and swagger, he had that bodybuilder waddle that comes with having huge, muscular thighs.

He was assigned to me so that I could introduce him to the real work a day world of architecture. When he was introduced to me we shook hands and the guy started asserting himself from the very beginning by squeezing my hand, practically crushing it in his small, strong, calloused hand until I winced and tried to pull my hand away. He squeezed my hand a little bit more, pulling it toward him and holding it just a beat, looking me in the eye.

I was in my early 40’s, an out of shape former natural bodybuilder. Nguyen was 20, and was a massive drug enhanced bodybuilder. In the course of the first week he worked for me, I learned that he had last competed at 185 pounds, and weighed 195 pounds that May. I learned that he was using HGH, testosterone and other steroids and supplements. Even at 20, his rock hard, ripped roid gut swelled gently with power.

He was less than half my age, a good three inches shorter than me, and weighed about the same. He was all lean muscle, and I was mostly fat.

I tried to establish a connection with the new intern by discussing our mutual interest and experiences in bodybuilding and weight training.

Nguyen was the kind of guy who could take what you told him and turn it around and use it against you.
Honestly, the guy started working in the office the first week of May and by the end of the month he had made me his bitch.

It started with the way he walked into the office, commanding attention, and establishing by his very attitude that he was in charge. I have to admit that I was completely attracted to him at first sight. He had an absolutely phenomenal body. He also exuded a certain commanding aura that, combined with his huge muscles, I found attractive and intimidating.

His dominance of me began with our very first hand shake where he established his superior strength and, I’m sure spotted the mixed feelings of lust and fear in my eyes. My own clumsy attempts to impress him with my tales of training and long ago competitions that first week gave him more information about myself than I was aware I was providing.

Early in the second week of May, we were working late to get some drawings plotted for a meeting the next morning. Only he and I were in the office. We were standing by the plotter in the print room pulling each drawing out of the machine and trimming them. When we were done, I thanked him for staying late to help me. Out of the blue he asked if I’d like to feel his biceps.

Without thinking, my first answer was an eager “yes.” But I caught myself, and said, “no, that wouldn’t be appropriate.” He didn’t accept my “no.”

“What’s the problem? Are you scared? Are you scared of feeling what real muscle feels like?” He raised up his arm and flexed it in my face. “Touch it. I know you want to. Don’t be a pussy. Feel what a real muscle feels like.”

I shouldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t resist. I reached out with one hand and felt his hard swollen arm. I stepped closer and used both hands to feel his biceps as he flexed and pumped his biceps.

The whole time he was giving me shit about how I wasn’t just a muscle “has been”, but was in fact a muscle “never was”. Using my own complements of his physique and my own descriptions of how I had compared to him in my prime, he verbally humiliated me while I was eagerly fawning over his muscles.

By the end of the third week, I had given in to his suggestion/demand to go with him to his apartment and worship his muscles. It was such a bad decision. I could have been fired. My employer could have been sued. But he was so gorgeous. More over he had already established his dominance over me. I can’t say that I resisted too much. I was a willing participant in his muscle seduction.

Nguyen had tapped into my natural longing to be submissive to a dominant muscle man. He had spotted it when we met, and had worked diligently, and quickly to establish himself as my muscle master. He seemed to know exactly what my buttons were and just how to push them to get me to willingly make myself subservient to him in every way.

It has been years and years since Nguyen entered, then left, my life. We didn’t keep in touch. I’ve tried to find him online, but with no success. He was such a powerful Alpha Male. All he had to do was walk in the room to establish his position as worshipworthy.