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WARNING: This story may contain lots of violence and brutality. Even by the pretty illiberal standards of this website. There’s also almost certainly going to be some intergenerational incest mixed in with the rough stuff, so gird your loins if that sort of thing upsets you. Actually, if intergenerational sex and violence disturb you, you’ve really wandered into the wrong place and should probably just leave now and forget you ever heard of JagoBC.
You HAVE been WARNED! Proceed at your own risk.
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Bodybuilder Family Feud!
Chapter 2 | |
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“Well, you showed up,” Granddad said. “I guess that’s something. Thought sure you’d pussy out and skip town.”
“This meeting was my idea.”
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“Yeah.” He turned his head and spit a huge wad of something into the grass. “You never were too bright.”
I shook my head. “You can’t get inside my head, old man. I’m used to your insults.”
“Fuck, sonny-boy, I been living rent free in there since you were fifteen! Look at you. Same haircut, same body oil. Even same brand of posing strap. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sweet on your old Granddad.”
“Fuck you!” I shouted, immediately confirming he could indeed still get inside my head.
He laughed and flexed his arms. His huge pecs bounced up and down. “Dream on, you pansy-ass mutherfucker. If anyone’s gonna get fucked here tonight it’s gonna be you.”
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I gulped and wiped my wet lips with the back of my hand. His words actually made my balls start tingling and my dick perk up. Not that I was sweet on him! But the truth is, when I’d first started jacking off late at night back at St. Venerable’s, those photos he’d sent me had played a huge part in helping me bust my nut.
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“We came here to fight, not fuck,” I told him after clearing my throat a few times. “Let’s go!”
He grinned. “You that eager to get your ass kicked?”
I shook my head again. “All you do is talk, old man. Time to put up or shut up.”
He took two broad strides toward me, and, after a momentary hesitation, I matched him. That left us with slightly less than a yard separating our bulging chests. It was my first time standing this close to him in just his competition posing strap, and, I found myself mesmerized by the huge, protruding nipples that capped each of his mammoth pecs. They were literally mouthwatering, and I wiped my mouth again before I began drooling down my chin.
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He barked, “My eyes are up here, boy!”
I nearly jumped and felt my face flush red at the idea he’d caught me checking him out. But the fact is, he was sexy as fuck! And up close, with his pheromone-ladened scent flooding my nostrils, I was starting to feel dizzy.
“Let’s kick this off right,” he said. “A good ole-fashioned test of strength.” He raised his right arm, showing me his palm. He spread his fingers, enticingly.
I looked from his raised hand to his face and then back to his hand. Then with another loud gulp, I slowly extended my own arm to accept his challenge…
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WARNING: This story may contain lots of violence and brutality. Even by the pretty illiberal standards of this website. There’s also almost certainly going to be some intergenerational incest mixed in with the rough stuff, so gird your loins if that sort of thing upsets you. Actually, if intergenerational sex and violence disturb you, you’ve really wandered into the wrong place and should probably just leave now and forget you ever heard of JagoBC.
You HAVE been WARNED! Proceed at your own risk.
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Bodybuilder Family Feud!
Chapter 1 | |
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Granddad and I met a little after midnight, on the football field behind the high school. We had both been star quarterbacks there once upon a time, though, as he was fond of saying, his star always outshone mine by more than a few magnitudes. He was right, of course. He’d been a huge deal in his day, not only quarterback but team captain. His team had gone the entire season without a single loss. They won the state championship. And, as he was also fond of saying, they did it all without the pansy-ass padding we use today.
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For the record, my team had done well enough, winning most of our games, but not quite making the finals.
Of course all of that was years in the past. I’d just come back to town after graduating college, and he’d only just retired after spending forty years driving a forklift.
We aren’t particularly close, Granddad and me. After my parents passed away, he refused to take me in, even though he got all the insurance money and had plenty of room. Instead he sent me to Saint Venerable’s Home for Incorrigible Boys, to toughen me up, he said, since my parents had clearly been too soft on me and he wasn’t going to have some pansy-ass for a Grandson. He was right about it toughening me up, but it also made me hate him with a burning passion.
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I didn’t see him again until I graduated high school. He had heard I’d been accepted to the State University and wanted to be sure I knew he wasn’t going to support me while I wasted my time pursuing some pansy-ass degree. In case you haven’t guessed, pansy-ass is Granddad’s go to term. He uses it for pretty much everything he dislikes or disagrees with: innovation, higher education and, most of all, yours truly. Even after surviving St. Venerable’s, I’m still his pansy-ass grandson.
About the only contact Granddad and I had while I was growing up, were the annual letters he sent me on his birthday. He was required, he wrote, by his own noble nature, to remind me what a failure I was, what a disappointment, and what a burden, though as far as I could see the only effort he made on my behalf were the letters he wrote complaining about me. Of course, he also regaled me with tales of his own accomplishments, which, admittedly were many. True, he’d worked the same factory job year after year without a single promotion, but he’d also managed to achieve a certain amount of fame as an amateur bodybuilder. He’d won more championships over the years than any other competitor in the state’s history. Each May, along with his letter, he enclosed a photo of himself, on stage, holding a trophy triumphantly above his head. And though I never much cared what became of his epistles, I treasured those pictures.
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And maybe, just maybe, they had something to do with the fact that I soon took up bodybuilding myself.
You see, me and Granddad actually do have a few things in common. We both favor crewcuts. We’re both gay. And we’re both amateur bodybuilders.
And the Tri-State finals were underway. The first day of competition had ended with me taking the top honors in the Junior category (ages 20 to 23) and him earning a win over the other Grand Masters (ages 50 to 59). That meant tomorrow we’d be going head to head in the All-Around, a sort of Best in Show for Bodybuilders. Only we weren’t about to let a few judges decide between us. No sir! After some heated debate and lots of name-calling (mostly on Granddad’s part), we’d arranged to meet on the football field and settle the question mano-a-mano.
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Here's the opening of pic from the second half of the Jago Barbarian Prince story...Possibly coming soon!
