Dr. W. A. Frost's Ides of Revolution

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 He came into the gym a skinny little twig, quite literally skin and bones. Never really able to gain any weight, Gordon was known around the neighborhood as the ghost: deathly pale and skeletal. For the past 5 years since he graduated from medical school, he tried strategy after strategy to try and bulk up. From high carb and high protein diets to vegan plans to just eating fast food for an entire month, nothing seemed to work for him. Thus, this new gym membership was yet another rung on his ladder, another step on trying to get swole.  The gym had been a staple of the neighborhood for decades, becoming a well established conveyor belt of successful athletes. The place supplied wrestlers, boxers, bodybuilders of all types to the industry: always winners, always huge. Thus, in the hopes of becoming their next success story, Gordon put pen to paper on the membership form, and struggling to carry his limp gym bag over his shoulder, he drudged toward the locker room. While the i...

Benjamin Howe walked into the Lamplighter, sweat dripping from his quaking chin. Slowly, hesitantly, he made his way past the men at the bar- each massive man glaring at the skinny young fuckup. For years he had screwed up deals. For years he had pissed off the members. For years he had insulted the legacy of his father. This time. It was different. The air in the room was noticeably tense as he shuffled to the black velvet curtains, breathing heavily and shaking visibly. Their eyes shot daggers at his back, as he pathetically stood there, delaying the inevitable. Benjamin slowly walked through to the back room, and was met with a sight he dreaded. Mack was the beast of the League. He towered over every single man, and tripled their size. For 38 long years, he was the loyal, obedient enforcer for Benjamin's father: silently and ruthlessly carrying out whatever orders came from the top. He was feared, but he was respected. He had paid his dues, he had hearts and minds of the League,...

 You sit in the back of the Uber, eagerly twiddling your thumbs. A Grindr date is not exactly what you had planned your evening, but as fate would have it, the cosmos smiled upon you tonight. Instead of laying in your bed scrolling through the ten Netflix shows you actually like, you are enroute to hopefully get lucky this evening. And indeed, lucky you are. When you saw the profile that had messaged you out of the blue, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. His username was 'Rubbercock' and from the pics he had sent you of his rather monstrously large uncut appendage, you can only imagine that it stretches even larger as it grows. That blonde hair, those dark brown eyes, that pig boy nose ring, those muscles... it didn't take much convincing for you to toss on whatever clothes were lying close to you and bolt out the door.  You peer down at your phone, tapping it gently to reveal another message from Rubbercock, or as he had introduced himself to you: Justin. It's mere...