dominatingmen

[dominatingmen]

Pathetic little scene, isn’t it? That musclebound titan just proved his supremacy, snapping your weakling boyfriend like a twig with that monstrous arm—pure dominance in action. You’re stunned, but your body betrays your true nature, that bulge in your shorts screaming louder than your silence. “Sorry?” Ha! Your apology’s laughable—don’t waste my time. That deep baritone from the victor cuts through your shock, claiming you as his prize. He’s right—you’re drawn to power, and that frail ex of yours never stood a chance. Now, you’ll watch him crush puny wimps daily, then serve his insatiable strength in bed. Worship me, weakling, for I’m the only partner worthy of your obsession—perfection incarnate.

I watch in terror and awe as my boyfriend is trapped in a headlock by the most incredible arm I have ever seen!

Suddenly he loosens his grip on the neck as if he was going to release him, but then reapplies pressure on my boyfriend's head. He stares intently at me, gauging my reaction.

The muscleman smirks at my reaction then starts applying REAL pressure. My boyfriend screams as his head begins to warp. His face turns deeps red and he starts to cry blood, then he falls silent after by a blood-curdling *CRACK*.

I sit stunned, unable to speak. I suddenly become aware of my boner tenting my gym shorts. After witnessing my boyfriend being being killed by muscle, all my shocked brain can think to do is apologise for a boner. "sorry" is all I say.

"don't be." comes the deep baritone reply from the musclebound murderer, "I could sense you were attracted to power, and now I can see its true. You would never have been happy with that weakling, I will be a much more satisfying partner. You can watch me crush pathetic little wimps every day, then we'll fuck for hours after. The only thing that turns me on more than feeling bones crack in my grasp is being worshipped my a muscle obsessed man like you, we are the perfect pair!"

[dominatingmen]

His quads pulse with unrelenting force, each muscle fiber snapping taut like iron cords as that shaggy blond mane frames his ruthless smirk. “Think you can touch for free?” he sneers, cranking the squeeze until your breath is forced from your lungs. His tree-trunk legs, deceptively casual under that golden scruff, lock you in a merciless grip. “No free rides,” he growls, eyes glinting with savage delight. Leaning closer, his voice drops to a guttural whisper, “Grovel, or these beasts’ll grind you to dust.” The air’s gone, his dominance absolute, daring you to squirm.

He leans back and flexes, “wanna feel these cannons bro?” You lean forward and suddenly find yourself locked between the tree trunk quads of his. “Game over,” he grins as his legs turn to steel and begin to squeeeeeze.

[dominatingmen]

It's all fun until something SNAPS! That's the burdon of being a Musclegod, your toys are so easily broken, often during the foreplay like this. At least he can get a decent pump by continuing to destroy the rest of the body.

[dominatingmen]

The huge man moans as the dutiful young rent boy slurped on his meat. "Ffuuuck, boy, you really know what you're doing!"

The young man is happy this new client is impressed by his hard work, it's not easy giving head when crouched in a small space between car seats and with two gigantic bodybuilder-sized legs on either side of you. He is starting to sweat, not from sucking on the huge man's cock - he has trained himself to neck any size, including this thick beast - but the heat radiating from the immense thighs is uncomfortable. Each thigh is easily larger than his torso, and despite their furriness, they were so damn hard, like this guy is an olympian or something!

The client started moaning louder, almost roaring, signalling the time to finish off. He pulls head up to circle his mouth around the cock head a few more time then quickly engulfs the throbbing monster down his throat.

The rent boy struggles to keep his lips on the base of the cock as the huge client starts convulsing violently, he's about to have a epic orgasm. Suddenly, the immense legs clamp around him so tight that its hard to breathe, Then the legs start squeezin- no, CRUSHING! Bones creak and POP!

The huge client gives a mighty roar and colvuses more violently as he shoots copious amounts of cum down the throat of the limp, crumbled-up rent boy.

[dominatingmen]

Bulging Redneck Alpha Muscles. Bulging in other places too.

[dominatingmen]

I'd love any of my followers to message me if you'd like to be treated like this punching bag.

[dominatingmen]

Look at you, all shredded and proud of those little abs and veins. Bet you think those muscles mean you’re strong, huh? Let me tell you something, twig: strength isn’t about looking pretty. It’s about power. Real power. See these arms? This thick body? This big bulge?”

I step closer, towering over you, a full foot taller, my shadow swallowing you whole.

“These aren’t for show. These are for breaking guys like you. One arm to pin you down, one hand to crush you. You’d squirm, maybe even try to fight back, but it wouldn’t matter. I’m too strong, too big, and you? You’re just a wannabe.”

I lean down, grinning wickedly, my thick chest inches from your face, each breath making you feel smaller.

“I could snap you in half, make you beg without breaking a sweat. So go ahead, flex those little muscles—look tough while you can. Because when I decide to take control, you’ll realize real fast... I’m not just bigger. I’m better.”

Another comparison shot with my bf cos why not? Maybe it is time to tone down my gains…T-T

#musclebear #musclecub #asianbear #bearasian #musclegainer #fatbodybuilder #bigmuscle #gymlife #gymmer #gaygainer #gainer #gaycub #instagay #beargay #chubbyboy #grommr #hairychest #fat #permabulk #foreverbulking #gayasian #thicc #thiccboi #brawny #brawn #stocky #stockybear #stockycub https://www.instagram.com/p/CHWgKkQMEMw/?igshid=m4jf6tz5x2ra

[dominatingmen]

I said get on your knees, bitch. If I want you on your knees, you're getting on your knees.

[dominatingmen]

When you come across a real man, even in that man's calm you are struck by the power of his virility. Testosterone runs in his blood, in a real man, we can smell the testosterone on his skin, in his presence. A real man does not fear, because he has overcome fear and all his weaknesses. Virility is power.

Quando você se depara com um homem de verdade, até na calma desse homem você é atingido pelo poder da sua virilidade. A testosterona corre em seu sangue, em um homem de verdade, podemos sentir o cheiro da testosterona na sua pele, na sua presença. Um homem de verdade não teme, porque ele venceu o medo e todas suas fraquezas. A virilidade é poder.

[dominatingmen]

"Come here, boy. You can even touch them", — he flexes his muscles for you.

Erick was your one-year younger neighbour who decided to join the same college you were on. In high school he used to be small and skinny nerd. In the school you used to bully him sometimes to stay cool in the eyes of your peers. But now you were shocked seeing him in your college gym.

Over the last year he must have hit some growth spurt. From being 5'6 he has grown to tremendous 6'4, making you look up to him now. He had also gained much muscle mass over that time. And unlike you he was able to grow nice stubble on his pretty face.

As you approache him to touch those big guns, he stops you: "No, no. Not so fast. Firstly, you get on your knees and beg me to let you touch my body".

"What?! Are you jocking, bro?"

"I'm not your 'bro'. Get on your knees, fag! NOW!"

"Yes, Sir..."

[dominatingmen]

He’s the kind of guy who stops you in your tracks the moment you lay eyes on him. That long, silky hair cascading down his shoulders, framing a face that’s almost too pretty for a man. His features are soft—high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that could almost be mistaken for gentle. At first glance, you’d think he’s fragile, delicate even, like the type who wouldn’t last a second in a rough crowd.

But that’s what makes him dangerous. Beneath that feminine, almost fragile appearance, his body tells a different story. A slim waist that draws your attention to his defined abs, each muscle perfectly chiseled. His arms, despite their smooth skin, are massive, bulging with thick, powerful muscle that seems out of place on someone with such a pretty face. His legs are even more impressive, thick and strong, capable of crushing any man who dares to challenge him.

The real kicker? He loves that people underestimate him. The so-called “real men,” the ones who pride themselves on being tough and dominant, don’t see it coming. They look at him, with his long hair and soft features, and think they’ve already won. They think they’re in control. But the moment they step into his world, they’re already lost.

He’ll watch them swagger up to him, puffing their chests out, thinking they’re about to dominate him. But it only takes a single move—a light shove, or a playful grab of their wrist—to show them just how wrong they are. His strength is unreal. These "alphas," these men who see themselves as the peak of masculinity, crumble the second they feel the force behind his muscles.

He’s got this way of using his pretty face and feminine appearance to his advantage. He doesn’t need to threaten or raise his voice. A playful smile, a flutter of those long lashes, and then suddenly, he’s got them wrapped around his finger, literally and figuratively. Once he’s got them where he wants them, it’s over.

He’s sadistic in the way he dominates. He’ll play it slow at first, teasing them, letting them think they’ve got a chance. But then, just as quickly, he’ll lock them in a hold that makes their eyes widen with panic. He loves to see the shift in their faces—the moment they realize they’re no match for him. His legs, thick and powerful, will trap them, or he’ll pin them with just one hand, his grip like iron. And all the while, that pretty, innocent-looking face barely breaks a sweat.

They struggle, of course, trying to use every ounce of strength they have, but it’s pathetic compared to him. With those massive arms, he can easily twist them into submission. His thighs—thick and solid—can crush them with a single squeeze. And as they squirm, gasping for air or trying desperately to break free, he just grins down at them, amused by their efforts.

He doesn’t just beat them physically—he crushes their pride. These men, who walked in thinking they were dominant, thinking they were the ones in control, are reduced to nothing under his superior strength and skill. They don’t know what to do with themselves, these so-called "real men," when they’re face-to-face with someone they thought would be fragile, only to find out he’s more powerful than they could ever dream of being.

And he loves every second of it. He thrives on watching their egos collapse, on seeing that flicker of fear in their eyes as they realize they’re at his mercy. He’s mean—cruel, even—and he’s not afraid to push them beyond their limits, enjoying the sound of their strained breathing, the desperate looks on their faces as he tightens his grip just a little more.

When they finally give up, their bodies limp and their pride shattered, he just leans in close, his pretty face hovering above them, whispering, “You really thought you stood a chance, huh?” And with that sadistic smile on his lips, he leaves them broken—physically, mentally, and completely dominated.

[dominatingmen]

[dominatingmen]

I arrive home after a long day, expecting a normal evening. But the second I step through the door, I sense something’s off. My wife is sitting on the couch, calm but with a look in her eyes that makes my stomach turn. And next to her, there’s a man—dressed in baggy clothes, lounging back, almost too relaxed. I remember the conversation from before, when my wife casually suggested bringing another man into our bedroom. I laughed it off, thinking it was a joke. But now, here the guy is, sitting in my living room, and something about his presence feels wrong.

Before I can say a word, the guy stands up. Taller than expected, his eyes lock onto me with a smirk that sends a chill down my spine. The man radiates confidence, the kind that makes it clear he’s used to getting what he wants. "So," the guy says, rolling his shoulders like he’s warming up, "how about we settle this like men? We wrestle. If I win, I go to the bedroom with you and your wife. If you win, i leave."

I scoff, still holding onto my pride. Sure, the guy is big, but so what? I work out, I'm pretty strong. I figure this is his chance to shut this whole thing down. I agree, not thinking twice.

But the moment the guy stands up, everything changes. The guy’s baggy clothes had hidden the truth—he’s not just big, he’s massive. Within seconds, the i am completely overpowered. The other man moves with a brutal, practiced strength, easily twisting me into humiliating holds.The guy doesn’t just overpower me—he dominates me easily, making it clear with every move that I never stood a chance.

And then comes the worst part.

The guy flips me onto my back and locks my head between his massive quads, squeezing just enough to make the me realize how helpless I am. He then folds my body up, slapping my ass as he squeezes me! My neck is trapped, my vision blurring from the pressure as those thick, muscled legs close around me like a vise. I struggle, clawing weakly at the guy’s thighs, but it’s useless. The strength in those legs is too much, and the more I fight, the harder they squeeze. The pain shoots through my skull as the guy leans in with a cruel grin.

“You’re done, man. I won. Now, I take what’s mine,” the man says, flexing his quads just enough to make my head throb, forcing me to tap out in pure humiliation.

Panting, I lay on the floor, my pride shattered, body aching from the violent submission. But as I try to get up, desperate to salvage whatever’s left of my dignity, the guy leans down, grabbing me by the chin, forcing me to look up. "You’re not done yet," the man says in a cold, commanding tone. "You think this is over? Nah. You’re gonna follow me… like the little puppy you are."

I hesitate, but before I can protest, the guy’s massive hand presses me down, forcing me onto my hands and knees. “Stay down,” the man growls, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re inferior. You crawl behind me now.”

Humiliated and broken, I have no choice. My wife watches, silent, as I stays on all fours, reduced to nothing. My face burns with shame as I slowly begins to crawl after the man, feeling the carpet against my palms. The weight of the other man’s dominance crushes me. Each movement is agony—physically and mentally—because I know this is where I belong now. Beneath this man, on the floor, following his every command.

The guy strides toward the bedroom, not even glancing back, fully confident that I will follow. And I do. Every step, every crawl, makes me feel smaller, more pathetic, as the muscled man leads me deeper into submission.

They reach the bedroom door, and the man finally stops, glancing over his shoulder with that same cruel smirk. “Good boy,” he says mockingly. “Now, stay right there on your knees while I show your wife how a real man fucks.”

Trembling I stay in place — on my knees, hands planted on the floor—helpless and humiliated, knowing I've lost everything. I watch, powerless, as the other man enters the bedroom, ready to take what’s his, while I remain on the floor… a defeated, obedient spectator, forced to witness his own submission.

[dominatingmen]

Saturday Muscle - when a normal diet comes up to Joan Pradells...

Or-

When little bro shows big bro who the real man is...

[dominatingmen]

I spot him across the bar, this cute little thing, and I can’t help but smirk. He’s got no idea what’s coming. I’m the biggest guy here by far—towering over everyone, muscles stretching my shirt to the limit, and that thick beard just adds to the intimidation. No one dares look me in the eye for too long, but this guy? He’s about to learn his place.

I make my way over, stepping behind him, and without warning, I wrap my thick arm around his throat. At first, I keep it playful—just enough to make him think it’s all in good fun. He laughs nervously, probably thinking I’m just the bouncer messing around. But that laugh dies quick. I start squeezing harder, feeling his pulse quicken under my grip, and his body stiffens when he realizes this isn’t just some joke.

I tighten my hold even more, and I can feel his panic rising. His hands come up, weakly trying to pry my arm off, but it’s no use. I’m way too strong for him. His breathing gets more shallow, and I enjoy every second of it. His struggle fuels me. I lean in, my voice low and sinister, right by his ear, “You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine now.”

I can feel him trembling, completely powerless in my grip, but I don’t stop. In fact, I squeeze even harder, just enough to make him fear I might snap something. He’s helpless, and he knows it. The fear in his eyes as he realizes there’s no escape—that’s what I thrive on.

Without a word to anyone, I drag him through the crowd like a rag doll, his feet barely keeping up. People might glance over, but no one’s gonna step in—not when it’s me in control. They know better. He’s coming with me, whether he likes it or not, and he’s about to find out just how much I enjoy making someone squirm.

[dominatingmen]

So, I’m on this flight, and I can feel the guy next to me squirming in the middle seat. You know the type—smaller guy, trying to pretend he’s comfortable, but I can tell the second I sat down, he knew he was in over his head. My shoulders and arms take up half his space without even trying, and he’s got nowhere to go.

But here’s the thing: I can also tell he’s trying to cop a feel. His elbow’s brushing against my arm every now and then, but he’s trying to play it off like it’s nothing. Like I don’t notice. Yeah, right. So, I decide to have a little fun with it.

I casually pull out my phone and snap a selfie, but not just any selfie. I flex my bicep hard, right in front of his face. The peak of my arm is nearly in his line of sight, and I can see him freeze up, trying not to stare. But he can’t help it—his eyes are glued to the sheer size of it. I make sure to flex just a little harder, feeling my bicep swell, knowing there’s no way he can ignore it.

He’s trying so hard not to react, but I can sense the intimidation coming off him in waves. That’s when I lean back, spreading out even more, casually taking up as much space as I can. My leg presses against his, my arm almost draped over the armrest, completely invading his territory. He’s trapped, and he knows it. I don’t even need to say a word to assert my dominance—just being here, taking up all the space, is enough.

Every time he tries to shift or get comfortable, I just flex a little harder or spread out a bit more, reminding him exactly who’s in control. He’s in my world now, and whether he likes it or not, he’s gonna feel the presence of a real alpha for the rest of this flight.

[dominatingmen]

When I walk into a room, it’s like everything shifts. Eyes on me, heads turning, and the best part? I don’t even have to say a word. Guys are already sizing me up, but they know—deep down—they can’t compare. That’s the thing about being this size, this strong. It’s not just about the muscle, it’s about the control.

I love it when they measure my arms. The second they come close, I can see it in their eyes—intimidation, awe, maybe even a bit of fear. Hell, some of them start trembling without even realizing it. They’re already submitting, whether they know it or not. All I gotta do is lean in, real close, and let them know I’m willing to let them measure more. Their eyes drift down.... seeing my soft bulge that clearly outclasses their now throbbing penis. I can see it—the moment their mind shuts off and their body responds.

It’s not just about being bigger or stronger than them. It’s about knowing they’ll do anything I say, without even questioning it. That’s the real power.

When I get asked how big my arms are, I just whip out a tape measure and tell them to see for themselves. I swear I could tell some guys cum as they approach me in awe. Funny thing is they don't even realize it until they look down at their pants and see a huge wet spot. I just lean forward and whisper "I'm willing to let you measure more of me". Before they can even respond, I see them get an instant boner. Power is not just about how much I can bench and squat, it's also about the control I have over you. 💪🤤🍆💦💦💦😈