"First, I'm going to beat you. Then I'm going to fuck you. Then I'm going to kill you." I had scoped the kid out on my way home from the bar. His wrinkled shirt, dirty jeans and hole ridden sneakers told me all I needed to know. He was a hustler and judging by the state of his appearance, not a very good one. He looked to be about 5'6" and maybe a buck ten in weight. At 5'11" and 200lbs of muscled beef, I knew I could easily dominate him. He would be my fourth. Fat and weak my whole life, I had finally gotten my act together a year ago and had seriously started to hit the weights. I wasn't going to win any bodybuilding contests, but my stomach was flat and my arms had reached a respectable 19 inches. I was surprised at how strong I had become, too. My muscles weren't just for show. My new found confidence had brought out feelings I had never acknowledged before. All the years of being bullied and beaten as a kid had built up a rage inside of me. Now that I was on the other side of the physical spectrum, I realized what my tormentors had known all along. Forcing pain on someone was a rush! To know that a guy was helpless to stop me was intoxicating. It had begun innocent enough. Some meathead in line at the coffee shop had bumped into me and spilled his latte all over my new shirt. Instead of apologizing, he snickered and started to walk away. Uh-uh. Not gonna happen. He was a bit taller than me, but we looked about the same weight. I grabbed his shoulder hard and quickly dodged the fist flying at my face, delivering my own punch to his gut. As he doubled over in pain I landed another blow to the side of his head and watched the asshole fall to the ground. As I grabbed my blueberry mocha and headed outside I realized my cock was rock hard. I began sparring with some guys at the gym, but as I got stronger, so did my bloodlust. Causing pain wasn't enough anymore. I needed to kill. So here we were back at my apartment, the twink hustler smiling not only about the money he was about to make, but thankful to get fucked by someone as hot as I am. "You like this muscle, don't you?" I asked while popping a double biceps pose. He nodded in appreciation and slowly ran his hand across my bulging arm. "Wow, your arms are amazing" I pulled him in for a kiss, crushing him slightly against my chest. I whispered in his ear. "First, I'm going to beat you. Then I'm going to fuck you. Then I'm going to kill you." He gave a nervous chuckle, not sure if I was kidding or not. My fist slammed into his face and I heard his nose break. Blood poured down over his mouth and soaked his clothes. I wasn't kidding. The kid barely got out a "No" before he passed out. One punch? This was way to easy. I pulled the smelly jeans off of him and got a look at my prize. I've got to admit, his firm bubble butt was a piece of art. Holding him up like a rag-doll, I thrust my hard, 8 inch dick inside and pounded away. He started to wake up after a few minutes. Good. It's always better when I hear them whimper. Some guys even seem to enjoy it. The bike rider I did last week was leaking cum everywhere. And that was even after I had broken his arm. I tighten my grip on the twink's head and snapped his neck at the moment I came. It's good to be powerful. -------------------------------------------------------- I was horny again after disposing the body in the woods on the other side of town. He was a quick fix, but had gone down to easy. I needed a more of a challenge for my dick to be satisfied for the night. It was already one in the morning. On the way home I spotted a homeless guy I had seen around town the past few months. He never seemed to bother anyone, but was one ugly mother fucker. He was wearing his usual stained black shirt and filthy Army green overcoat. A dirty stocking cap covered what I imagined to be wispy balding hair. Worst of all, he had a mangy un-kept beard that came down to his chest, making him look like a ZZ Top reject. Perfect. He should put up a bit more of a fight. "Joe" (the name emblazoned on his coat) was sleeping in a storefront doorway when I approached. Under the pretense of giving him some cash and a meal, I roused him from his sleep and led him toward a nearby alley. No way was I letting him stink up my car. I had never seen Joe up close, and as we walked I realized that he was taller than me (maybe 6 foot) and seemed to be a bit on the fat side. He barely spoke and stumbled as he walked. Jesus, I was doing the world a favor by getting rid of this useless man. We got to the alley and I shoved Joe to the ground. Kicking him hard, I leaned down and whispered my mantra. "First, I'm going to beat you. Then I'm going to fuck you. Then I'm going to kill you." Balling my fist, I slammed it into the side of Joe's face as hard as I could. His head jerked to the side. Then, to my surprise, he jerked back to face me. A snarled smile revealed stained teeth. That's when I realized my hand was on fire with pain. I had actually broken a few knuckles on the guy’s face. And he was laughing. His hand shot out and gripped my throat like a vice. "Big mistake," he said in a guttural tone. My eyes widened in shock as I felt my feet rise off the ground. Joe was holding up all 200lbs of me with just one hand. He wasn’t even struggling. I frantically tried to ease the pain on my throat by holding onto his forearm. That's when I felt the hardness of his muscles. Fuck. What had I gotten myself into? Joe threw me into the alley wall as if I weighed no more than a piece of paper. My shoulder slammed into the brick, tearing my t-shirt and skin open. I looked my one time prey in the eyes. A demonic glint danced in his deep blue pools. Frozen in fear, I watched as Joe shook off his coat and literally rip his shirt off. HOLY SHIT! The fat I had imagined to cover Joe's body was a trick of his bulky coat. In reality, he was a shredded mass of muscle. Black hair covered his tight pecs. Thick veins pulsed down his chiseled arms. His shoulders were a mile wide. The six pack abs tightened with every breath he took. There was no doubt in my mind that his stomach was at least twice as hard as the brick wall I had just been thrown into. Joe pulled back and struck me across the face with an open palm. I swear my jaw shattered. Oh my God! If he could do that with just a slap, what would his fist feel like? "Way to easy," he said. I began to black out. He grabbed me by the throat again, lifted me to a standing position, and whispered in my ear. "First, I'm going to beat you. Then I'm going to fuck you. Then I'm going to kill you." To be continued...