The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Musserfag

August 2009

mc / mm / gr

David should have known better when he saw how low the rate was, but he let his gullibility get the best of him. He was excited for his stay in Seoul, you see, but knew he didn’t have the money for luxury accommodations most of his trip. When he found the hotel for what was certainly less than it should have been—David double- and then triple-checked the conversion from won to dollars just to make sure he was understanding it right—he was thrilled.

“It’s too good to be true,” a voice in his head said. But David went ahead and booked the rooms. Maybe there is such a thing as a free lunch, he thought.

When David got there he should have known something wasn’t right. The place was spotless, modern, beautiful gleaming white walls of a luxurious contemporary palace welcoming him in. The concierge was a short, young Korean man. David didn’t think much of him.

“I can help you?” The young man asked.

“I’m David Rilsby,” David said, his luggage drifting soundlessly over floors that seemed to be made of pure, white light. “I have a reservation for 5 nights.”

“Yes, of course, Misteh Lilsby,” the young man said, his heavy Korean accent obscuring his pronunciation.

David should have asked about the rate at the very least. It did cross his mind, but he felt uncomfortable prying when he was getting the deal of a lifetime. Of course, in hindsight, he’d have been better of dropping all his luggage and wallet and running out the door right then. But hindsight is 20/20, and David could barely see straight, in the moment, so bright were the sparkling walls.

The young man led David to the elevators and then accompanied him to his room.

“Here you are,” he said, politely, and then, nodding and bowing, left David to his unpacking.

The room was shockingly large, and David looked around in awe at the huge king-sized bed, the lounge area, the private splash pool, the full bar, and the piano. Everything was either bright white—the walls, the rugs, the bed—or jet black—the piano, the woodwork. It was breathtakingly beautiful. David just flopped back onto the bed, marveling at his amazing luck. Well, it wasn’t to last, but he didn’t know that, and he savored the luxury as the soft pure-white down comforter cradled his weary form.

He drifted off, maybe, because when he heard the knock it startled him, as if from deep slumber. He looked around but didn’t see a clock. He walked to the door and opened it to find the young concierge smiling politely.

“Sir, now I prease show you facirities?” He smiled and nodded as he said it, pausing a bit for the last word. Even with his accent, David understood him quite clearly.

“Uh, I’m resting right now...”

“Oh, this is for all new guests. I show you whole facirities, take you for tour. It not take very long.”

David shrugged, threw on his sneakers, and followed the concierge back to the elevator.

“First, we have heth crub,” he said. David mused at the words. Ah, health club, yes. The elevator doors slid open to show a massive gym, as clean and gleaming as the rest of the hotel, each machine like a sculpture, no visible wear at all, everything polished to a high sheen.

“You try, now.”

“Oh,” David laughed, “No, no thank you, I’m very tired.”

The young man looked confused, then reiterated. “You try now. Not very long.”

“No thank you.” David enunciated very clearly.

“All guests try. I must show you each machine.” The concierge seemed very persistent.

“Oh, OK, if it’s just a tour, I guess that’s OK.”

“Good,” the young man smiled. “Here, prease to put on.” He handed David a pair of gymnastics shorts and a shirt. David rolled his eyes—this just kept getting more and more involved—but rather than try to have a conversation with the hotel concierge with his limited English, David just turned to go into the locker room.

“No, you change here.” The concierge sounded firm about this. Odd. Whatever, David figured, and he slid out of his current shorts and shirt, and then went to put the gym shorts on.

They were really small. The waist was wide enough, but they were incredibly short. David pulled them on and felt them dig into his balls when the elastic band was hardly over his pubes. Looking down he saw the shorts barely covered anything at all, and the leg holes were wide enough they didn’t leave much to the imagination. The center part digging into his balls was barely more than a thong strap. David reached back and felt his ass. The shorts covered less than his briefs. Weird.

Uncomfortable, now, David slid the shirt on. It turned out it was a tank top, very tight and not really long enough. David stood, looking ridiculous, his crotch barely covered at all by the skimpy shorts and his midriff showing below the tiny tank top he was wearing. It was red, with an American flag on the front and underneath the words, “AMERICAN MUSCLEMAN.” Kind of awkward, David thought.

“Yes!” The concierge seemed much more pleased by the whole affair than David. But then his face clouded and he pointed at the shorts. “Oh, no, you no wear...” he struggled for the word, finally reaching out and tugging on David’s briefs.

“What? I’m not taking those off.”

“Yes, take off.”

“No, are you kidding? These shorts don’t cover anything!”

“Prease,” the young man reiterated, “Prease to take off—undeh-wear.” “No,” David said, firmly.

The young man looked at him, his face dark. “Next time, you take off,” he said, angrily.

“I’m not coming back here,” David said, frustrated, “There won’t be a next time.”

The young man turned to face the gym and suddenly his face cleared and he was chipper again.

“Now you try each one!”

For the next two hours, the young man brought David from machine to machine and pressed a few buttons. David’s arms and legs slid into stirrups on each machine which gently guided him into doing whatever exercise the concierge intended, and then scaled the difficulty up slowly until, by the end of each, David was straining, red-faced, barely able to contain himself from the exertion. It was awful. Far from a “tour,” the concierge was putting him through the most grueling workout of his life.

“STOP!” David cried, finally, “STOP IT! I can’t take any more!”

The concierge just looked at him flatly, with curiosity. “You need good program!”

“No, I don’t! Let me go!”

The young man just smiled and pressed a few more buttons. David felt the machine grind to life and suddenly it raced him through an onslaught. For the next 20 minutes David fought just to keep up with the wild thrashings of this infernal contraption. His heart rate was through the roof. He felt like he was going to vomit or pass out or both. He couldn’t even stop to scream any more, panting desperately for air.

By the end of the 20 minutes David physically collapsed, literally unable to move a muscle. The young man smiled his polite smile and pressed a button on the nearby wall.

Moments later, before David had even begun to recover, two larger Korean men walked into the room, expressionless, and grabbed David by the arms and legs.

“Hey, stop it! Put me down!”

The concierge walked over to a nearby fridge and, opening it, pulled out a bottle with some printed labels too fine for David to read. He walked over to David’s still exhausted form, popped off the top, and pressed it against his mouth.

“You drink, is what you need after workout!”

David tried to resist but the young man held the bottom of his jaw up and pinched his nose as he poured the contents of the bottle into his mouth. David tried to cough it out but the young man just smiled and pressed the bottle more tightly against his lips. Finally, running short of breath, David was forced to swallow the stuff. It tasted chalky and strange, like berries, but not entirely unpleasant.

“Goodbye, Amelican Musserman!” The concierge said after him, smiling. “See you soon!”

David woke up later, but it wasn’t in his original room. This room was just as clean, but was tiny. His bed was much smaller, but longer, like a long cot. Above him was a menagerie of cords and hoses and monitors, who knows what. David tried to move and thought at first he was restrained because he couldn’t seem to move his limbs. He started to scream. Probably at this point he started to regret taking the hotel up on their too-good-to-be-true offer, too. Or maybe that started back in the gym.

As he kept struggling, though, David realized he wasn’t at all restrained to the bed. It’s just that his limbs were nearly numb and still so exhausted they didn’t want to function. As he slowly managed to rock back and forth, bringing some life back to his body, David felt his feeling return. As soon as it had, he wished it hadn’t. Bolts of agonizing pain shot all through his body, steadily, searing, like he was being torn apart. David’s screams grew louder. He began thrashing involuntarily, his limbs slamming against the bed as the wracking pain laced through his body like razor blades.

The pain didn’t abate and so eventually David realized he couldn’t just keep lying there. He managed to roll out of bed, falling face-down onto the floor. There was only a little space not taken up by the bed in the tiny room, and David managed to painfully work his way up to standing and walk towards the door.

Just as he reached for the handle, the door opened. Standing before him was the young concierge, who reacted with visible surprise to David.

“Oh, you are awake!! Oh, Amelican Musserman, you no should get out of bed!! It must hurt vely bad, yes?” The concierge seemed to be showing genuine concern as he ushered David, who really couldn’t protest much with all the pain he was in, back to the bed. Sitting David down on the edge of the bed the young man grabbed one of the overhead tubes and pushed it into David’s mouth.

“Suck now,” he said, “You feer better.”

David was afraid of this young man but still, the promise of pain relief was enough to offset that fear, and so he sucked on the tube. Immediately something in the ceiling made some pleasant bell noise, and the tube flooded with liquid. It actually tasted quite good, mild and milky, and David sucked on it until another bell sounded and the flow stopped.

With that, the concierge smiled and gently laid him back down on the bed. As he did, David felt the pain replaced by a sudden rush of intense sensation. His whole body tingled and pulsed, but now not unpleasantly. Every muscle in his body tensed and spasmed and just kept tightening more and more, flexing from every individual toe all the way up to the back of his skull. It felt amazing, like a full-body orgasm that just kept going and going.

“Feer good, yes?” The concierge smiled. David moaned. He smiled wider. “Yes, Amelican Musserman, this make you nice and big.”

David didn’t hear that last part, though, so consumed was he with the overwhelming sensations in his body. They went on for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, but when they passed, David felt invigorated, fresh, renewed. When the concierge took his hand and had him stand back up, David expected to need help, but to his surprise found he’d never felt stronger. David stood up quickly, still glowing from the experience.

His enthusiasm started to wane as the concierge led him back into the hallway. “Time for next workout, Amelican Musserman!”

“Oh... uh, yeah, I can’t wait to work out again!” David lied, beginning to panic. Another workout like that would probably kill him, and David was just hoping at this point he could escape this demented hotel, let alone actually enjoy his vacation. By now even a quick return to the US would have suited David just fine.

The concierge clearly had other plans in mind, though, and he smiled at David’s feigned enthusiasm. The hallway had no obvious exits, and so David followed him cooperatively onto an elevator. When the elevator door opened they were back in the same gym.

“Prease to put on,” the concierge said, handing David another pair of the gym shorts and tank top. David looked around, trying to figure out an escape strategy, but soon obliged and put the tank top on, then stripped off his other shorts and was about to put the new pair on when the young man stopped him.

“Prease to take off undeh-wear.”

“No, I told you,” David said, started to get frustrated and feeling helpless, “I’m not putting these on—these don’t cover anything, I won’t put them on by themselves.”

“Prease to take off undeh-wear,” the young man repeated, more intently this time.

“No, I won’t!”

“Prease,” the young man said once more, becoming visibly angry, “Prease to take off undeh-wear.”

David looked at him, then, in a fit of defiance, wrinkled his nose. “No.”

Before David could even see what was happening, he felt it. The concierge whipped out a taser, pressed it against David’s bare thigh, and pulled the trigger.

“AAAAWWWWAAAGGHHHHHHHAAAAGGHH!!!” David screamed as the taser bit into his flesh and the electrical pulse caused his every muscle to spasm again—but this time not in a very pleasant way at all.

“TAKE OFF UNDEH-WEAR!!” shouted the livid concierge. His polite, professional demeanor entirely gone, the young man was giving direct orders and brandishing a crackling taser.

“JESUS!” David screamed, “Fuck, take it easy, man!”

The concierge tased him again. “AAAAAUUUUAUAIIAIIIIIEEEEGGGHGHHHHAAAAGHGHGHG!!!” David was screaming incoherently.

“TAKE OFF NOW!!!”

Panting for breath, heart racing, leg hurting like he’d been stabbed, David scrambled to take off his underwear. His flaccid cock was shrunken almost entirely, the pain and embarrassment causing it and his balls to recede almost entirely inside him. David didn’t even think about that as he slid the gym shorts on as fast as he could. Even as small as his cock was at that moment, it still stuck out through one of the leg-holes of the shorts.

“Good,” the concierge said, abruptly reverting to his smiling, polite demeanor, “Much bettel.”

David was fully terrified of the young man, now. He seemed crazy, like a psychopath. That temper had just come out of nowhere but after David had complied he was once again totally calm, like nothing had happened.

“Please,” David said, holding back tears from pain and fear, “Please don’t do that again.”

The young man just smiled. “Time for workout! First, you drink this.” He handed David another bottle of differently-colored liquid and watched expectantly as the intimidated David took it, hands shaking, and drank it down quickly.

The concierge led David from machine to machine, again, and David found that, oddly, his terror and the memory of the pain were fading as he attacked each machine with a surprising energy. Moreover, he found that the lifting was getting his blood flowing in more ways than one. Every time he pushed the bar up, he felt a swelling in his cock.

Immediately, when this started happening, David blushed a bright red, because he realized he was getting hard, and his cock was already sticking out the bottom of the shorts. He glanced down and saw the young man staring down at his crotch, and he felt his cock stiffening, growing, and could feel the scratchy hem of the shorts dragging down his cock as it swelled and stuck further and further out the bottom.

David knew the concierge could see it, and felt horribly humiliated lying on the bench in his tiny tank-top and skimpy shorts lifting weights while the young Korean man watched his big boner sticking out of the shorts. But he also knew that if he stopped, the results would probably be extremely painful for him.

“Uh... can I... can I please put on some larger shorts?”

“Why, Musserman?” The young man asked, apparently feigning innocence.

“Um, I mean, I feel uncomfortable, I mean, I don’t like how I’m really... you know, I’m sticking right out of them.”

“Oh! Yes, Amelican Musserman. Is important part of training. Real Musserman rike to show off! And real Musserman is avairaber to be used all the time! Is important to make yourserf avairaber. You look velly avairaber in teeny-tiny shorts, big hard musser-cock barely covered at all!!”

“What?? Oh God, no, please, this is fucked up!” David cried, blushing even deeper, his cock swelling fuller and fuller with every lift of the bar. He had to try to stop this. But how?

Hours later David was still blushing, sweating, and was once again exhausted by an insanely demanding circuit put together for him by the young man. David’s cock was still at full mast, and David knew with every lifting motion he made, his large cock was swaying, pendulous, back and forth in front of the young man.

When he finally finished the young man just smiled. “Nice workout, Musserman!” He handed him another drink and David, too tired to even think, drank it down.

He woke up again in the tiny, gleaming white room with the tubes, and this time when the pain started he reached for the same hose as last time and started sucking immediately. Agonizing pain was replaced by unimaginable pleasure as his whole body convulsed with wracking orgasms over and over. Only, David noticed, he hadn’t actually cum.

He reached down to grab his cock, which seemed especially large and very swollen and stiff, and gave it a squeeze, and gasped. It was so sensitive he could barely stand to touch it! Slowly David began to rub his stiff cock, hoping to find some release.

At that moment the door swung open and the smiling young concierge stood in his polite-seeming manner.

“Oh, Musserman, have to stop that, time for workout!”

“No, please,” David begged, “I haven’t done anything else, I need a break—please, this is my vacation!”

“Musserman no need va-ca-shu, need workout! Soon you will not lemembeh va-ca-shu!”

Clear though it had become, it only really hit David right at this moment: The hotel had no intention of letting him ever leave. He began to weep, then sob, choking sobs coursing through him.

“Why me??” He wept, “Why me, what did I do?” The concierge walked over to him and, with an exaggerated sympathetic pout, put his arm around David.

“No cry, Musserman! Soon you want onry workout!”

This didn’t help: David began crying harder. So the concierge changed his demeanor.

“Get up, Musserman. Time for workout.”

David kept crying.

“Musserman, you get up NOW.”

David stood up in fear, at that, and followed the now-stern young man down the same hall to the same elevator to the same gym where he handed him the same tiny shorts and same tank top. This time David took off his underwear without any prodding, but when he put on the tank top it tore wide open.

“Oh, Musserman too big already for shirt! Time for new shirt!”

Confused, David turned to look in the mirror, and when he did, his jaw fell.

Staring back at him was a form he barely recognized as his own. His entire body had grown, his whole form more muscular. His neck was swollen and his arms bulged, his pecs were pronounced and his torso was a map of crisp, chiseled muscle. His thighs bulged out even more, making the shorts look especially ridiculous, like he’d just stretched a gum wrapper around his groin. It covered almost nothing. His balls were visible dangling out one side and his cock was sticking down his other leg, pinned in place by the skimpy shorts material, stretched tight around his bulging thigh.

“What—what... Oh my God. What did you DO to me?”

“Musserman need mussers!” the young man said, handing David a new tank top.

David took it and, struck dumb with disbelief, put it on. This one was almost like the last one, only under the flag the words were different. They said “AMERICAN MUSCLEFAG.”

“Uh, what’s this?” David asked.

The concierge smiled. “Yes, Musserfag! This is you.”

“Wh-what does that... what does that even mean?”

“Let’s working out, Musserfag!” the young man ignored his question and handed him a bottle. David drank it, and the workout began.

Only this time the young man spoke to him throughout the workout. David was benching, he noticed, significantly more weight than he had been a few days ago, and every time he pushed the bar up, his cock surged with blood, just like yesterday, sticking down his thigh, humiliating and embarrassing him in front of the young concierge. Only this time the concierge added to his shame by talking to him.

“Yes, Musserfag. You rift so much weight. Workout makes you HARD, Musserfag, look at your big cock, Musserfag. You love rift weight so much.”

And then he reached out and grabbed David’s swollen cock. David almost dropped the bar and couldn’t stop himself from crying out, so sensitive was his swollen cock.

“Yes, Musserfag, you rike it when boys touch you, you rike feer of boy hands on you big musser-cock.”

David’s cock-torture contined at the young man’s hands for the hours of working out, but when he even slowed down on his lifts the concierge threatened him, scowling, and David, petrified, attacked the weights with renewed vigor. By the time he finished, David was physically depleted as usual, but his cock was throbbing in time with his pulse, sticking straight down his leg, and David could have sworn it was longer and thicker than ever before.

“Can I—uh, can I please cum?” David couldn’t believe the words came out of his mouth, but he needed it, badly.

The concierge smiled. “Musserfag is for boys to play with. Not to having fun for himself. Musser-cock needs to be hard at all times!” And with that the young man poured the after-workout drink down David’s throat and everything went dark.

This time when David awoke he found he really was restrained to the bed. He began to panic when the pain came, but just as it did, the room went dark. Then it lit up with colors from projectors David had never even noticed, covering everything he could see in light.

The hose snaked down to David’s mouth and he hungrily accepted it. It gave a short blast of the milky fluid that turned the pain into pleasure, but then stopped. The lights went from vague color blobs into concrete shapes. Music began. It reminded David of some kind of psychedelic children’s show from the 60s. Everything was cartoony and looked poorly drawn, and the music and pulsing colors were definitely in that genre. But then a character walked into David’s view. He was as cartoony as the background, but he was a big, bulging white bodybuilder, with a blond crew-cut and a huge, hard cock, and he was completely naked.

The music spun into a song. Voices from off-screen sang, “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

The character, smiling, replied, singing cheerily in the same Korean accent, “My name is Musserfag!”

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

“My name is Musserfag!”

As this was going on, the character began to dance, swinging his hips around, his cartoon cock bouncing up and down in time with the music. And then the voices asked once more, “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

The whole cartoon vanished, replaced by blackness, except for the words, in bright white: “MY NAME IS MUSCLEFAG!”

David lay, uncertain of what to do.

A few moments later he received an abrupt electrical shock and screamed. The pain was starting to return, too.

Again the voices in chorus asked, “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

David, tentatively, spoke. “My name is... musclefag?”

He received another shock, and the voices shouted “YOUR NAME IS MUSSERFAG!”

Then they asked once more, “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

David, bewildered, afraid, and in considerable pain, opened his mouth and replied, “My name is... Musserfag?” He felt ridiculous, speaking in a mock accent, but as soon as he said it, liquid flowed into the tube and he greedily drank from it until it stopped again, sooner than he wanted. The pain stopped, though, and a bit of the full-body orgasm began.

The cartoon returned. This time, the cartoon bodybuilder was not alone. Two Korean men were in the scene, too, and they were naked, too. They were quite a bit shorter than the Musserfag character, and not as muscular. As David watched, Musserfag grabbed one of the men, turned him sideways, and stuck his big erection right into the man’s ass. The Korean man squealed in delight. The other Korean man grabbed Musserfag by the hips and shoved his smaller dick into Musserfag’s ass. The three of them pumped in unison as the chorus of voices returned.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

“Musserfag!” the cartoon replied, smiling.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

The screen went blank except the one word. Musclefag. David replied quickly, this time, eagerly.

“MUSSERFAG!” he shouted. The tube filled, and the cartoon flashed back again. This time Musserfag was lying on his back. One of the Koreans was riding his cock, and the other was straddling his face, shoving his cock into Musserfag’s mouth.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” Darkness again.

“MUSSERFAG!” David shouted, even more eagerly. More fluid. More cartoon. Still on his back, one Korean riding his cock, the other sitting on his face, the two Koreans making out.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” Darkness.

“MUSSERFAG!!” More fluid. More cartoon. Musserfag was lying spread-eagled over a sawhorse while the two Koreans fucked him, one in the ass, one in the mouth.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” “MUSSERFAG!!” Fluid. Cartoon. David’s body rushed with the full, spastic orgasm in every muscle as he watched Musserfag happily eating out the upturned ass of one of the Koreans while fucking the other one’s ass.

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” “MUSSERFAG!” The fluid gushed into his mouth faster than ever as Musserfag, projected on the ceiling, knelt and smiled blissfully, eyes closed, rubbing his hands all over his body as the two Koreans, standing on either side, hosed him down in fantastic jets of thick white cartoon semen.

And so it went, until the pleasure passed, the tube retracted, and the lights came back on.

And when they did, David almost screamed when the concierge was standing right next to the bed.

“You rike cartoon?” David hadn’t even seen him walk in. He must have been there the whole time. David blushed crimson with embarrassment, now realizing what he’d been shouting to get that fluid, what he’d been watching.

“What’s your name?” The concierge asked, with a sly grin.

David tried to think. Wait. This didn’t make sense. That was just a cartoon, and it hadn’t even been that long. There’s no way it really made him forget his own name. But, somehow, it had. David couldn’t think of what to say. It was an empty hole in his memory. The harder he tried to remember, the more vacant he seemed. Finally he figured it out.

“Musserfag,” he said. That was it. Why had that been so hard to remember? David felt happy, comfortable. Why had he been so concerned? “Musserfag,” he repeated, nodding contentedly.

“Velly good,” the young man said, and patted him on the head. “Time for workout.”

On the way down the same hall to the same elevator they stopped someplace new. Another floor. David got out and walked, a little dazed, to the seat the concierge indicated. Another Korean young man came out and chatted with the concierge. David couldn’t understand what they were saying. But then he felt the other man cutting his hair, using clippers. He put something in it, and it smelled foul. But then he rinsed it out.

David noticed in the reflection of the elevator door that he now sported a short, blonde crew-cut. He smiled, absent-mindedly, and repeated just to himself, “Musserfag.”

David’s life rapidly devolved into just this routine. Wake up, watch the cartoons, drink the fluid, follow the concierge to the gym, workout until he was nearly dead. Drinking the shakes. Waking up in the room again. Wearing the shorts and the Musclefag tank top all the time, now. No longer particularly caring that his cock was always just sticking out, rock hard, pressed right against his thigh.

One day during his workout the concierge grabbed David’s cock, as he had been for weeks already, but this time he tugged it and slid the shorts up a bit so his cock stuck straight up. David saw in his peripheral vision that his cock was clearly much larger than ever before. Why had he not noticed that? How had that happened? He couldn’t think about it too much, though, he had to put this bar up, with all 800lbs. The concierge unfastened his own belt and slipped off his pants and underwear, and David kept lifting as the young man straddled his torso and slid his ass down onto David’s precum-slicked cock. David moaned as he felt his cock penetrate the young man’s sphincter and sink all the way in until the concierge’s ass-cheeks rested heavily on his pelvis, and then he grunted every time the young man pulled up until only the tip of his cock was still inside him. He did that slowly for the duration of David’s workout. David didn’t cum once. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum. Not since he’d been here in this hotel, and he couldn’t remember what came before that. He wasn’t supposed to cum. He was a Musserfag. He was just supposed to make the other boys cum. And the concierge did, several times, spilling big loads of creamy spunk all over David’s Musclefag tank top.

David also hardly minded another time when the concierge reached down and unsnapped the thong strap of the shorts. He’d never even realized they unsnapped. With the thong strap gone, the concierge licked his thumb and forefinger. David felt it as the concierge reached down and started rubbing his hole with the wet digits, massaging it, sliding his thumb and forefinger in and out. And David felt it again as the concierge dropped his pants, grabbed David’s legs and started pushing his own cock into David’s grotesquely muscular ass.

By the end of his workout David’s ass was stretched wide open and he could feel gallons of the concierge’s cum sloshing around deep inside his guts. David just drank his shake as always and woke up later for his steady diet of perverted cartoons and orgasmic muscle-building fluid.

Another time, the concierge dropped his pants and walked up to the head of the bench, as if he meant to spot David. But instead, he straddled his face and squatted so his balls were resting right on David’s lips.

David obediently opened his mouth and started sucking on the Korean boy’s balls, and then the shaft of his hard dick when he put it in his mouth.

By the end of that workout David had swallowed several loads of the concierge’s cum as he lifted.

The next workout, the concierge did the same thing, but he turned around and sat his ass back on David’s face. David, again, obediently opened his mouth and started licking and tonguing the young man’s hole. A couple times he had trouble breathing, but the concierge just laughed and rubbed his ass-crack up and down David’s face until he’d regained his breath.

Months passed and David had become a monster. He’d forgotten all about his vacation, his US citizenship, the cheap hotel, the fantastic deal, everything. It no longer occurred to him to think about anything at all, except the drinks, the cartoons, the concierge, and the workouts. He looked in the mirror and he saw an abject freak. His muscles were impossibly large, swelling on his frame like giant bundles of cable under his skin. He stood seven feet tall now, with his blonde crew cut and his teeny-tiny shorts and the tank top that didn’t even cover his nipples. Moreover, his cock was a good foot long and very thick. Whatever the Korean hotel had been feeding him had certainly done its job.

He didn’t feel so clear on anything anymore, though. All the cartoons and the numbing repetition of his limited routines, the shiny white walls and the shakes and fluid and all of it slowly drained his memories and his resistance until he couldn’t remember anything. He knew one thing for sure: he’d never forget his own name again. He was Musserfag, and he was sure of it.

More months passed with no change to the routine, except for the occasional haircut, until one day David followed the concierge onto the elevator and saw him hit a new, different button. The elevator plunged for a very long time. David looked around, confused and a bit scared at the change to his usual routine, already hungry for his drink, but the concierge just smiled and gave his rock-hard cock a squeeze.

The elevator door opened and David looked out into a palatial bathhouse. The entire space was sculpted to look like a natural garden—pools made of natural stone, plants and ivies everywhere, the 30-foot ceilings grown over with plants and lit like a jungle canopy. It was breathtaking, in stark contrast to the gleaming sterile white that David’s world had become.

And all over the beautiful landscape were Korean men of all ages, young to old. And every one of them was fixed, unmoving, staring wide-eyed at the behemoth that had just entered.

“Gentermen,” the concierge announced, in English, “I plesent to you: Amelican Musserfag!!”

The silent dumbstruck stares gave way to cheers, hoots, jeering catcalls and leering grins. Many of the men approached David, who stood unsure of what to do. He didn’t have to wonder for long, because they descended on him, hands groping his body, naked flesh rubbing against his own, hard Korean cocks sliding against his slick flesh, hot wet mouths and tongues sliding across his expansive muscular body.

They dragged him down onto the floor and there they covered him, in a swarm, a tangle of hot, wet flesh writhing on top of the largest, most grotesquely muscular American they’d ever seen.

David didn’t have that many brain cells left, and the ones that were still there had been soaking in Musserfag cartoons for almost a year, so within minutes he was acting out the only scenes he knew anymore. He couldn’t even keep track of whose body parts where which. He just sucked every cock that came near his mouth, he fucked every hole he could get his giant cock into, and felt man after man climb on top of him and pound his well-stretched hole. As the hours went by, the men rubbing against him were increasingly covered in semen, salty sweat, and saliva, and David eagerly opened his mouth to lick and suck clean all the hot man-flesh he could press his face against. He lunged for bodies, finding his tongue pressed deep into a young man’s armpit or sucking and licking between an older man’s toes, licking up between the smooth ass-cheeks of one man or licking clean the fat gut of another middle-aged Korean man in heat like the rest of them.

David couldn’t possibly guess how long he’d been in that room, no more than he could guess how many men he’d fucked or been fucked by. But finally the concierge emerged again from the elevator and announced something David couldn’t understand, in Korean. Immediately all the men cheered and laughed once more, and they stood up and formed a circle around David, lying prone on the floor. Some men grabbed their own cocks, others sidled up to their neighbors and each fisted the other’s rigid hardons. They all began jerking, and David recalled the final scene in the Musserfag cartoons. He knelt up, threw his head back, closed his eyes, and started rubbing his hands all over his body as he felt the first wet squirts of cum hit his naked flesh. What started as a few hot droplets here and there soon turned into a deluge. David felt viscous, hot spunk splashing against him from all sides. It drenched him and soon he could feel it running like rainwater over his entire body, pooling in crevices and streaming in thick rivulets down the cleft of his ass, between his massive pecs, and running in a steady stream off his cock. He opened his eyes and looked down to see the cloudy milky-white cum of every man in the room pouring off of him by the gallon.

Finally it ended, and all the men lay, exhausted, on the ground and in the pools, and David followed the concierge, who led him to a nearby fountain to rinse off.

On the elevator, the concierge hit the button David recognized as the gym floor.

They stepped off, and the concierge handed David a pair of skimpy gym shorts and a way-too-small tank top.

“Prease to put on,” he said. “Time for workout.”

David didn’t even notice when a small trickle of drool escaped the side of his mouth and ran down to his chin.

“Musserfag,” he said, and smiled.