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itsmelucash

Influenced

vorecaptions4

WELL, I am surprised that it got exactly what I wanted, its gonna be an amazing nice story

vorecaptions4

Muscle theft

The whistle around Coach Halgren’s neck hadn’t left his skin in seventeen years. It dangled there now, nestled in the coarse gray hair of his chest, as he paced the length of his office. The thing was practically fused to him—a second heartbeat, a third nipple. He’d blown it so many times his lips had memorized the shape of the metal.

Outside, the football field was empty except for the late afternoon shadows stretching long across the turf. Halgren liked this time of day. The quiet. The way the setting sun turned everything gold, like the world was made of trophies. He flexed his hands, the knuckles popping like gunfire. Sixty-two years old and still built like a brick shithouse, as his ex-wife used to say. Not that she’d said it kindly.

The knock at the door was timid. Too timid. Halgren scowled before he even turned around. “Enter.”

The kid who shuffled in was exactly what Halgren had expected: thin wrists, thick glasses, a backpack that looked like it weighed more than he did. Ethan something-or-other. The school’s resident tattletale. The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Coach Halgren, sir. You, um. You wanted to see me?”

Halgren exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, like a bull deciding whether to charge. The kid—Ethan—flinched at the sound. "Sit," Halgren growled, jerking his chin toward the folding chair opposite his desk. Ethan scurried to obey, his sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. The chair groaned under his negligible weight.

"You filed a complaint," Halgren said, leaning forward, his massive forearms resting on the desk. The wood creaked in protest. "Against my quarterback."

Ethan's fingers twisted in his lap. "Y-yes, sir. He, um. He shoved me into a locker. Twice. And then he—"

"I know what he did." Halgren's voice was a low rumble, the kind that vibrated in your bones. "What I don't know is why you thought running to the principal was the play."

Ethan’s mouth opened, then closed, like a fish yanked from water. His fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans. "Because—because it hurt," he whispered.

Halgren’s laugh was a landslide—deep, sudden, and utterly humorless. "Hurt?" He pushed back from the desk, the chair rolling on uneven wheels. "You think a little pain’s worth benching my best player? Worth costing this team the championship?" He stood, looming over Ethan like a storm cloud. The kid’s glasses slipped down his nose, and he didn’t dare push them back up.

A drop of sweat traced Ethan’s temple. Halgren watched it slide, slow and fat, down to his jawline. The boy smelled like cheap fear. Halgren inhaled, nostrils flaring, but there was something else beneath it—something sweet: youth.

Halgren’s tongue dragged across his teeth. "You ever hear of lodge pole pines, kid?"

Ethan blinked, his fingers twitching against his thighs. "The—the trees?"

Halgren's grin split his face like an axe wound. "See, lodge poles don’t grow unless fire clears out the deadwood." He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Ethan whole. "Weak things burn. Strong things thrive." His hand shot out, fingers like vise clamps around Ethan’s chin, forcing his head back. The boy gasped, glasses askew, his pulse thrumming wild against Halgren’s thumb.

Something in the air thickened—not sweat, not fear, but the electric hum of a storm gathering. Ethan’s breath hitched as Halgren’s grip tightened. His skin prickled, then burned, as if the coach’s fingers were branding him. A golden glow seeped from Ethan’s pores, swirling like mist in the fading sunlight. His sneakers kicked uselessly against the floor, his legs turning limp as wet rope.

Halgren inhaled, slow and deep, nostrils flaring. The golden light coiled toward him, drawn into his mouth like smoke. His skin drank it in—first his lips, then his cheeks, then his throat—until his whole body shimmered with his victim's vitality. Ethan’s glasses slipped off entirely, clattering to the floor. His pupils dilated, black swallowing blue, as his essence unraveled.

The boy’s fingers twitched, clutching at Halgren’s wrist. His grip was weak. Weaker. The skin of his hands thinned, veins standing out like ink strokes on parchment. His nails grayed, then cracked, flaking away like old paint. The backpack slumped off his shoulders, collapsing into a heap of denim and canvas—empty, now, of anything resembling flesh.

Halgren exhaled through his nose, steam curling from his nostrils. His shoulders broadened, the seams of his polo shirt straining. Silver streaks dissolved from his hair, replaced by thick, chestnut waves. His crow’s feet smoothed; his knuckles lost their arthritic swell. Ethan’s final breath left him in a sigh, his body collapsing entirely into dust.

The dust settled on the floorboards. Halgren flexed his hands, watching tendons slide beneath rejuvenated skin. He rolled his neck, relishing the absence of its usual pop. The whistle around his neck gleamed, polished by some unseen hand. He scooped Ethan’s glasses off the floor, holding them up to the light. The lenses were spotless. Useless, now.

vorecaptions4

"Dude I said you had nothing on me, you are so fucking weak I didnt need to use any wrestling with you at all. Now, you're my bitch and I am starving, give me some of that energy you got, I bet your vital energy will look way better on me than wasted on a weak piece of shit."

Josh felt his very soul being plucked from deep inside him and squeezed of every bit of energy it had, only to be greedly drunk by his rival, the guy didnt show remorse has he drained a few years of his defeated colleage, swallowing and distributing all that vital energy to feed his flesh and make himself younger and stronger. That sip wouldnt be enough to kill Josh, but the pred never said he would drink from his life only this time...

vorecaptions4

A FORCED DONATION

The shower was running again—third time today. Jake could hear the water hissing through the thin dorm walls, the sound punctuated by occasional thumps as his roommate fumbled with soap or shampoo. He stretched out on his bed, bare chested, abs flexing as he arched his back. The mirror across from him caught the movement, and he smirked at his own reflection. Not bad. Not bad at all.

The bathroom door creaked open, steam rolling out in a thick cloud. Out stepped Elliot, toweling off his dripping hair, glasses already fogged from the humidity. He was skinny in a way that suggested too many late nights hunched over textbooks and not enough time in the gym. Jake’s eyes flicked down—just boxers, same as him. The nerd had legs like twigs.

"Calculus final’s tomorrow," Jake said abruptly, rolling onto his side. "You’re acing that shit, right?"

Elliot paused, adjusting his glasses with one hand. "I mean, yeah, probably. You?"

Jake grinned, slow and easy. "Not yet."

Elliot barely had time to process the predatory shift in Jake's grin before the larger man lunged off the bed. A yelp escaped Elliot's throat as Jake's arm—corded with muscle that had no business being that defined—hooked around his neck, dragging him backward into a crushing headlock. The towel slipped from Elliot's grip, pooling at their feet.

"Relax, nerd," Jake murmured, his breath hot against Elliot's ear. The scent of cheap body wash and something darker—like ozone before a storm—clung to him. "Just need a little... Donation."

Elliot thrashed, elbows flailing uselessly against Jake's ribs, but the jock might as well have been made of stone. Then he felt it: the unmistakable press of Jake's fat cock against the small of his back, half-hard and insistent even through the thin fabric of their boxers. A strangled noise caught in Elliot's throat.

Elliot's pulse hammered against Jake's forearm like a trapped bird. His vision blurred at the edges—part panic, part something else he couldn't name—as Jake's grip tightened. The golden light spilling from his lips tasted like static, like the buzz of a fluorescent bulb seconds before it burns out.

"Easy," Jake rumbled, his voice vibrating through Elliot's spine. "Just breathe out."

Elliot couldn't. Not when Jake's other hand slid down his ribs, calloused fingers splaying over his stomach, pressing in like he was searching for something beneath the skin. The light coiled thicker now, twisting in the air between them, and Jake inhaled sharply—a deep, greedy pull that made Elliot's knees buckle.

Knowledge unspooled in his head like a frayed wire—formulas, theorems, the precise angle of a tangent line—only to be siphoned away mid-thought. Jake groaned, low and satisfied, as the stolen concepts settled behind his eyes. Elliot could *feel* them slotting into place inside the jock's skull, repurposed, rewritten.

"Fuck," Jake breathed, nuzzling into Elliot's damp hair. "You're *packed* in there."

Elliot's knees hit the floor with a dull thud, but Jake's grip kept him upright—barely. The golden light didn't just stream from Elliot's lips now; it pulsed in thick, viscous strands, like honey pulled from a comb. Jake's groan vibrated against Elliot's back, his hips rutting forward in shallow, involuntary thrusts. The heat of Jake's cock burned through the damp fabric of their boxers, leaving Elliot trapped between the unbearable pressure of the headlock and the insistent grind of Jake's arousal.

"God—*fuck*—" Jake's voice cracked as another surge of stolen knowledge slammed into him. Elliot's memories flickered behind his own eyelids—midnight cram sessions, the weight of a pencil between his teeth, the precise click of a calculator button—all of it dissolving into Jake's consciousness like sugar in hot tea. Jake's breath came in ragged bursts, his free hand clawing at Elliot's hip as if he could peel back skin and muscle to reach deeper, *take more*.

Elliot's vision swam. His thoughts—once sharp, orderly—now scattered like leaves in a storm. He could *feel* Jake inside his head, not just siphoning but *rearranging on him*, carving out chunks of his intellect to consume and leaving hollow spaces in their place. A whimper escaped him, weak and thready, but Jake only tightened his hold, his teeth grazing Elliot's cheek in a way that wasn't quite a bite but promised one.

"Shit, you're—" Jake's voice dropped to a growl, his hips jerking forward again.

Elliot's body arched sharply when he felt the blunt pressure against him—too dry, too sudden, the stretch burning in a way that made his vision whiten at the edges. Jake didn't pause, didn't ask, just *pushed*, his thick cockhead slick with precum but not enough, *never* enough, as it breached Elliot in one brutal shove. The golden light pouring from Elliot's lips stuttered into frantic, flickering bursts, his gasp dissolving into a choked whine as Jake bottomed out inside him with a groan that rattled through both their chests.

"Fuck, *fuck*—" Jake's voice was wrecked, his forehead pressed between Elliot's shoulder blades as he rocked deeper, adjusting to the clench of Elliot's body around him. The headlock loosened just enough for Jake to snake his other hand down Elliot's front, fingers splaying over his stomach as if he could feel the intrusion from the outside. "Knew you'd be tight. Knew you'd—*shit*—take it so good."

The golden light thickened again, surging from Elliot's mouth in a continuous stream now, Jake's lips sealing over it with obscene hunger. Every ragged breath Elliot tried to take only fed the transfer—his knowledge, his memories, even the weak flex of his underused muscles unraveling strand by strand into Jake's waiting mouth. Jake's hips jerked shallowly, the drag of his cock inside Elliot pulling another broken noise from him, the pain blurring into something hotter, sharper, as his body betrayed him and began to yield.

Jake chuckled, low and rough, his teeth scraping Elliot's shoulder. "Feel that? Your *brain* sliding down my throat." He punctuated the words with a slow, grinding thrust, his free hand slipping lower to palm Elliot's limp cock through his boxers. "Bet you never thought you'd get off like this, huh? Getting *eaten* alive."

Elliot's vision darkened at the edges, his thoughts reduced to static—no equations, no logic, just the overwhelming sensation of Jake filling him in every possible way. His hips twitched weakly into Jake's touch, his body reacting despite the terror clawing up his throat. Jake groaned approval, his fingers tightening around Elliot's cock as he rocked deeper, the wet slap of skin echoing in the small dorm room.

"Gonna make *so* much use of you," Jake murmured, his voice thick with stolen intellect. He dragged his tongue up the side of Elliot's neck, lapping at the sweat-slick skin like he could taste the last dregs of Elliot's intelligence pooling there. "Gonna walk into that test tomorrow and fucking *own* it. All thanks to you, nerd."

Elliot's knees trembled, his legs giving out completely as Jake's thrusts grew rougher, more erratic. The golden light flickered weakly now, thinning to pale wisps as Jake sucked the last of it down with a satisfied sigh. His grip shifted, fingers digging into Elliot's hips hard enough to bruise as he fucked into him with single-minded intensity, chasing his own release with the same ruthless efficiency he'd stolen Elliot's mind.

Elliot's body jolted with each thrust, his own neglected cock leaking pitifully against his stomach, his thoughts reduced to a hollow, echoing chamber where Jake's voice now lived, whispering *mine, mine, mine*.

Jake groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside Elliot's spent body. The sensation sent a final shudder through Elliot—a weak, reflexive clench around Jake's dick—as if his body still understood *something* was being stolen, even if his mind no longer could.

Jake shuddered against him, his breath hot and ragged against Elliot's nape, his fingers still tight around Elliot's limp cock. "God, you're *were*, perfect" Jake gasped, pressing a sloppy, possessive kiss to Elliot's slack jaw. "Gonna keep you around for *next* semester, too." He chuckled, low and dark, as he pulled out with a wet sound, letting Elliot crumple to the floor like a discarded sweater. Elliot's knees hit the hardwood with a dull thud, his body folding in on itself—his once-quick mind now a hollowed-out shell, his once-tense muscles slack and pliant.

Jake stepped back, admiring his own reflection in the mirror—his biceps fuller, his shoulders broader, his cock still slick with Elliot's sweat and his own cum. He flexed, watching the way his veins popped under his skin, the stolen strength settling into his body like it had always belonged there. He rolled his neck, cracking it sharply, and grinned down at Elliot's twitching form.

Elliot's glasses lay askew on his nose, his unfocused eyes staring blankly at Jake's feet. His lips moved soundlessly, trying—and failing—to form words. Jake crouched beside him, tilting Elliot's chin up with two fingers. The golden light had faded entirely now, leaving Elliot's skin pale and clammy, his breathing shallow. Jake traced a thumb over Elliot's slack lower lip, smirking.

"Bet you never thought *this* was how you'd help me study"

vorecaptions4

I know it may be getting annoying but cant stop doing this muscle theft scenarios hahahah

vorecaptions4

For fuck sake, I cant take it anymore, I am starving here. I have spent enough time and money on you, dude. You'll give me back all I invested on making you appetizing. No more gym sessions, calculated meals, roids, paid college and shit like that, you've become a perfect meal for me to feed. Fucking give me your life force, give me your mass. Shit, give me some of your brains too, I am gonna suck you dry of anything you're worth, you're nothing more than a bag of nutrients walking around that I had to expend a fortune to have enough value for me to drain. FUCK YEAH, GIVE ME EVERYTHING YOU ARE, MAKE ME MORE!!!

vorecaptions4

The team went so bad this season Coach decides they are better used as fuel to rejuvenate himself than waste all that vital energy chasing pussy and impregnating the 11th random bitch (or who knows the number its already on) they get their young dick inside. Its fucking amazing being filled with all their potential, all their future filling his muscles and making his flesh back into his prime.

"Damn, no wonder they only thought with their dick, with this much testosteroe running my veins all I can think is about spreading my genes around."