This choice: He takes you to the gym,, to acquaint you with his superior body • Go Back... Clay strolls out of the school, feeling like he doesn't have to listen to any authority figure again. How could he be subject to the same rules and codes of ethics other people have to follow, when he's the ONLY man around with his own little human pet in the palm of his hand. As far as Clay is concerned, he's a god now. And he's going to make sure you know it.
He marches into the local gym, comfortable enough in his singlet shirt, baggy shorts and Nikes to go for a work out, so he jumps on the treadmill and turns the speed right up. "Gonna get a little hot and sweaty, faggot. Show you what a real man looks and smells like." He hisses into the palm of his hand before breaking into a run. You're terrifed as sweat starts to pour from his long, hunky arms into his clenched fist where you're held like an iPod as he jogs, using the feel of your weak little body as motivation to make his own 6.4" stature even more manly.
After a sprint on the treadmill, Clay stomps upstairs and hits the weights. He holds you, jammed between the hot steel barbell and his hand, so that your head pokes out and with every curl you're sure your skull is going to pop from the pressure. But you have the perfect view of Clay's mountainous biceps as they flex, which is just what he wants. A thick vein straining in the middle, and huge pearls of sweat run down the bulky arm. Every now and then he whispers viciously to the insignificant bug in his grip, inflating his ego even bigger, between grunts.
"That's right, little runt - urgh!! - take a good look at the sheer power! - urgh!! I could crush you between these biceps like a cockroach and I wouldn't even hear your puny little - urgh!! - bones snap! Now - urgh!! - worship me! Kiss your superiors, faggot!" Clay pulls you loose with his free hand, and, holding the barbell high in the air so that his muscles are rock hard mounds of steel, forces your face hard against them
You kiss in a panic, trying to make him happy and choking on the heavy beads of the terrifying bully's salty sweat as they run all over your face.
Clay moves you from his arm and takes a look at you, snickering evilly at what he sees. You're drenched in his sweat, trying to wipe it out of your eyes as it also runs from your lips and you gasp for air. When you finally do get your eyes open, Clay is smiling a deeply twisted smile. Pumping iron has made him sweat like a pig, and now he wants to take your training to a new level..
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