The bodybuilding convention was packed with cocky, arrogant straight bodybuilders. Dozens of shirtless, jacked hunks crowded the gym floor, flexing for cameras, laughing and showing off their massive physiques for their friends. There were no women in the convention, only men talking about themselves and their bodies like they were gods on earth.
Then the doors opened, and in walked not another muscular hunk, but a short, round, chubby gay man named Milo, dragging a black duffel bag with him.
Nobody noticed him at first. He looked at the convention, at all those huge bodybuilders, and a wicked grin formed on his face.
”This is going to be beautiful.” Milo muttered, setting the bag down. He unzipped it, and suddenly fluttering small black butterflies took off into the air.
Dozens of alien butterflies poured out like a swarm, their black wings flapping as if in slow motion. They scattered across the hall, darting toward the confused men. The alien butterflies might appear small, but they were stronger than the bodybuilders. One by one, the butterflies latched onto the men’s faces, the impact causing them to fall to the floor as the aliens roughly forced their mouths open and crawled their way inside. The sounds of muffled choking started filling the hall as one by one dropped to the floor, muscles bulging as they convulsed violently, their muscular arms and legs shaking like they were being electrocuted. Veins popped across shredded bodies as their eyes rolled back.
And in the middle of it all, Milo was the only one left standing, calmly watching the sea of muscled men spasming like fish out of water. His cock stirred in his pants. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as dozens of the most perfect male specimens thrashed at his feet, drooling and jerking, their faces blank as the butterflies pierced their way to their brains, making permanent residence inside them.
Minutes passed, and then, slowly, the chaos calmed. Their bodies slowly stopped convulsing until only their heads were twitching and then finally started standing.
43 sweaty, pumped, blank-eyed hunks faced him all at once. Milo felt his grin spreading across his face, his whole body trembling with arousal at the sight of the muscle gods, brainless and sweaty, standing there like his personal army.
"Welcome to your new bodies, boys! Now, give me a smile to show how happy you are with your new hosts."
Then, as if on cue, they all smiled. A hive-mind smile. A creepy smile that wasn't human, it was a smile that didn't mean happiness, but conquest. It was clearly a first-time smile attempt.
Milo was responsible for taking care of the butterflies. He assisted them in integrating into human society, and he earned their respect. He became their general and they would do anything he ordered them to do.
Milo turned to two bodybuilders and barked his first command, “You two, lock the doors. Nobody can walk in.”
Immediately, the two bodybuilders marched to the doors and they shut and bolted every exit. Now it was just Milo… and his army of muscle puppets.
“Now strip boys!" Milo ordered.
Obedience was instant. Tank tops, shorts, and shoes were peeled away, tossed aside in a flurry until they were all naked. Their flaccid cocks hung between their legs as they stood waiting for the next order. Their creepy and awkward smiles never left their faces since Milo didn't tell them to stop.
“Good boys. Now get on your knees and jerk off until every single one of you is rock hard.”
Without hesitation, 43 sweaty bodybuilders dropped to the floor as one, thick thighs spreading wide. The room filled with the sound of forty veiny cocks being stroked. Their hands pumped rhythmically, all moaning in perfect unison.
"Why so silent? Moan for me, boys. Show me how much you appreciate these bodies I got for you!" Suddenly, they all started moaning together, a choir of deep, baritone voices blending with the wet, stroking sounds. It was all music to Milo's ears. Milo grinned the entire time. He loved ordering them around. He had never worked out in his life, the only weight he lifted was the weight of junk food, yet here he is bossing around a bunch of straight men who worked hard for their perfect bodies.
Milo walked around the bodybuilders. His short, pale, chubby body contrasted starkly with the towering muscled hunks around him. He watched them up close, like a general inspecting his recruits. Fourteen of them were having trouble getting hard, so Milo helped by sucking their big, sweaty cocks until they were rock-hard. But three remained soft even after the intense blowjobs he gave them. It turns out some hosts are just so straight that even after the takeover the butterflies weren't able to force their bodies to feel aroused. But this wasn't new to Milo—he already had a protocol to fix the issue.
He ordered the three bodybuilders to get on all fours in front, their big muscular asses on full display for him.
Milo then stripped, he peeled off his shirt, exposing his soft, pale belly, then shoved down his pants. His short dick throbbed at the sight of the three hot bodybuilders on all fours before him and forty more on their knees, stroking themselves.
He then knelt behind the first one and started fucking him. As he thrust, his hand was wrapped around the man’s cock, checking for any signs of hardness. He soon felt it growing; he smirked and intensified his thrusts, fucking with abandon until the bodybuilder’s shaft was throbbing at its full 7.8 inches. He sent the satisfied stud to join his friends in the group jerk-off session, then moved on to the next bodybuilder.
This time, the bodybuilder only started getting hard after Milo began playing with his nipples while fucking him. He then sent him to join the others as well.
The last bodybuilder took far more of Milo's time.
No matter how fast Milo jerked off his massive cock, how roughly he fucked him, how hard he pulled on his nipples—or even if he did all of it together—the guy still wouldn't get hard, that thick shaft hung soft and heavy between his tree-trunk thighs like it was mocking him.
That's when it hit him—these hulking slabs of muscle weren't just empty vessels anymore. The alien parasites puppeteering them from within had hijacked most of their instincts, twisting raw physicality into something pliable, obedient, and achingly responsive to Milo's commands. But this last one, the biggest of the trio with his chiseled jaw, tree-trunk thighs, and the biggest cock of the convention, this one still clung to echoes of his old self. Straight as an arrow in his former life, judging by the wedding ring Milo had spotted earlier.
The alien might control the body, but the erection? That stubborn, biological betrayal of desire? It was wired deep into the host's buried psyche, resistant to the parasite's overrides. Milo smirked, his own arousal surging at the challenge. He pulled out slowly, watching the bodybuilder's hole clench involuntarily around nothing.
Force alone wasn't enough. He needed to give this man what his body was craving, or at least make it think it was getting what it desires.
Milo grabbed a wireless VR headset from his bag that he bought especially for this. He put the VR headset on the bodybuilder's head and played a high-def straight porn clip: a busty brunette getting railed hard from first person perspective, she moaned loudly, her tits bouncing with every thrust.
Milo then slid on his back underneath the bodybuilder, facing up, positioning his body directly beneath the towering muscle beast. From this angle, he had a perfect view of the man's muscular pecs. Milo propped himself up slightly on his elbows, slicked his own hole generously with lube, then reached up to coat the bodybuilder's limp shaft until it glistened.
Milo guided the head to his entrance and sank down—no, pulled the bodybuilder's hips forward gently until the thick, pliable length slid inside him inch by inch. At first, nothing. Just the heavy, warm weight filling him completely, stretching him open without any pulse or resistance. Milo clenched around it experimentally, rocking his hips in slow, teasing circles while he waited.
A tiny twitch deep inside. Milo watched the bodybuilder's face closely—saw the subtle flare of nostrils, the faintest parting of lips. Another twitch. The powerful hips gave a small, involuntary spasm forward, nudging deeper. Milo grinned and let his ass milk the shaft in rhythmic pulses as the porn blared in the bodybuilder's vision.
Little by little, it built. The cock started thickening inside him, swelling against his walls. The bodybuilder's hips jerked again, stronger now, a low, guttural rumble building in his throat. The bodybuilder's eyes remained glued to the virtual reality porn, forced to watch the pussy on screen getting pounded relentlessly.
The shaft hardened pulse by pulse until it was rigid, throbbing, stretching Milo to his limit. The man's baritone moans finally broke free—deep, animalistic, empty of thought but full of raw, primal need—as his hips snapped forward in earnest.
He started thrusting. Hard. Deep. Relentless. From below, Milo had the perfect view: the massive chest heaving, sweat dripping from pecs onto his own body. Each thrust drove that now-massive, rock-hard cock deeper, veins pulsing against Milo's prostate, precum leaking steadily inside him. The bodybuilder fucked like the man in the video—hips pistoning with mechanical power amplified by alien hunger—his deep moans rolling out in time with the woman's cries from the porn. Milo moaned beneath him, riding the edge, savoring every inch as it claimed him, but he wasn't here to finish this one off yet. Not quite.
Just as the thrusts grew frantic, the cock swelling impossibly thicker inside him, balls drawing up tight against Milo's ass—Milo twisted his hips and pulled free abruptly, sliding off with a slick, obscene pop. The bodybuilder's hips bucked uselessly into empty air, his throbbing erection bobbing angrily—slick, veined, a full 9.8 inches of rigid, man meat, dripping precum onto the floor.
Milo pulled off the VR headset, and the giant let out a frustrated, primal growl, deep and rumbling, but stayed frozen in place on all fours. Milo then slid out from under him, admiring the sight: the once-straight muscle god reduced to a mindless, leaking weapon, engine fully revved and idling hot. The hosts were like cars, after all—all they needed was that first spark. Once the engine turned over, they didn't stop. Not until the tank ran dry.
Milo sent the last bodybuilder to join the others with a slap on his ass. He then stood in front of them as he stroked. “Good boys, now that everyone is horny and hard, let's feast!”
The butterflies didn't hide their excitement. They all opened their mouths as strange clicking alien sounds came out. It was their way of cheering. Then like one single organism, they broke into pairs. Milo watched, entranced as one hunk dropped to the gym floor, lying flat on his back, his thick 6-inch cock standing rigid.
His partner positioned himself directly above upside-down, dropping into a perfect push-up plank: hands planted firmly on the floor on either side of the bottom man's hips, body held in a straight, rigid line—form. His groin right above his partner's face.
The bottom hunk's powerful arms flexed as he reached up, gripping his partner's thighs and lifting his legs slightly off the floor. Straightening his partner's body into a flat, horizontal plank parallel to the ground. Now, their throbbing cocks hovered mere inches from each other's eager mouths, but they didn't sucked, not yet, they were waiting for Milo's command.
Milo’s cock twitched as all the bodybuilders assumed the same position. They were all frozen in this bizarre 69 position.
That's when Milo noticed there was one muscular Daddy left without a pair. He originally was wearing camouflage military shorts, but now he was naked, his 7-inch cock jutting out proudly and glistening with precum. The Daddy had the biggest pecs at the convention.
“You poor thing. Come over here, you sexy beast. I will be your pair.”
Milo stroked the Daddy's huge pecs and then lay on his back on the floor and ordered the hunk to get on top of him in a push-up position since Milo wasn't strong enough to hold the man's lower body off the ground. Milo dragged his tongue along the underside of the Daddy's cock, from base to tip. He licked the head in slow, sloppy circles before opening his mouth and swallowing the tip. The man’s breath hitched, a low growl spilling from his chest as Milo bobbed his head, taking more and more into his wet mouth. Milo gagged softly when the thick shaft hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t stop—he wanted to choke on this man, to taste every drop. His free hands cupped the hunk’s firm, muscular ass, and he slapped it three times, sending a signal to the butterflies.
Milo still could see the hunks around him, they all opened their mouths wide. From deep inside their throats, something small and glistening slithered out. Alien tongues shapped like tubes. Long, wet, fleshy tubes, pulsing and stretching, the meat tubes reached and swallowed the cock above and below them in one wet gulp. Fully engulfing the shaft like a meat condom.
Milo moaned when he felt something warm and wet swallow his small cock. It felt way better than a human's mouth.
The gym went quiet. There was no moaning, no panting, no dirty talk. Just the sound of wet gulping and the sloppy suction of the aliens feeding. The butterflies were feasting on their new hosts.
Milo couldn’t stop staring. His cock throbbed as the alien sucked him. He watched these perfect men, once cocky strong men, now just sweaty brainless milking cows for hungry alien creatures. But they weren't cumming just yet. Milo knew that they would only release once he came, fortunately, the aliens didn't have to wait much longer. Soon, Milo came into the alien's tube, triggering all the others to do the same.
The tubes pulsed with each swallow, dragging every drop of cum straight out of the hunks’ cocks. Their balls clenched, emptying over and over into alien mouths. The bodybuilder came inside Milo's mouth and he drank every drop, and for a short moment, he felt like he was part of the pack.
At last, the tubes retracted back inside their mouths.
Once the bodybuilders were dressed again, they began leaving the convention with blank faces, as if nothing had happened. The butterflies had access to their hosts' memories, allowing them to live their lives as they once did without raising suspicion. However, they would soon return for another feeding session, and Milo would be right there to orchestrate everything again.
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