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Ideal idol of a man

by markthehypnotist

The idolized man

It was a day like any other, just aimlessly staring at the deserted horizon of the highway. Not a lot of people tend to pass through these dilapidated gas stations with the much easier access to flights. Avoiding the whole ordeal of driving through the smoldering hot desert and the risk of running out of gas mid way with no phone signal or stop nearby to save oneself. Meanwhile you’re just sitting in a poorly cooled gas station that has a client per day at most. After dropping out of college you didn’t have many aspirations and the little connections you had landed you this job as a cashier in this run down gas station. It is pretty peaceful all things considered, being so close to the southern border meant you’d still get someone to talk to on occasion even if it was in broken English or the little Spanish you remembered from high school. 

Having the gas station mostly for yourself during the day meant you’d have plenty of time to work on personal projects, you could even take some online courses! Or do anything to improve yourself for that matter, you could pretty easily workout in the employee break room that was basically your second bedroom. 

Despite this you decided to spend your days pondering aimlessly about your own situation and how despite being a relatively fit young man in the prime of his life you were just rotting away in an uncomfortable chair at a gas station in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. 

You decided to take a break, it’s not like there was anyone at the station anyways.

Running the water at the bathroom sink you could hear the creaky pipes of the old plumbing, washing your face with the weather to take away some of the sweat you’d built up from just sitting. You took a look at yourself in the mirror, your youthful expression had started to fade away and the signs of a strained adulthood had started to show. Even with a dead end job you’d somehow managed to look tired and wimpy. You hadn’t been taking care of yourself after all so it was expected, but looking at your poorly lit reflection by the flickering bulb of the gas station bathroom really put in perspective how bad it was. Tired looking, lanky and unable to fill out the shirt of the former gas station cashiers shirt you’d been given when you got the job. 

Why did you decide to stay there?

The pay wasn’t that good, there was really nothing to do and the business was pretty much dying. And yet you decided to take it.

You guessed you needed time to think, your youth is slipping away and you needed time to think about what kind of man you want to be when the grim reality of adulthood sets in. You where legally an adult of course but you’d hold on to that youth of your early 20’s with everything you got until then.


The characteristic sound of the bell on the automatic door rang, you left the employee bathroom and went to the cash register. 

The man that entered had parked his pick-up truck besides the gas pump. He was a tall and broad shouldered man, his tan skin and bulky frame was clearly the result of hard work under the southern sun. His light shirt was open at the the collar revealing a plump chest covered with coarse black hair and a golden chain with a weird little golden figurine on it of what looked like a man. His forearms where thick as well and covered with the same black hair. His facial features where rough and manly, piercing eyes and a dark stubble adorning his chiseled facial features. A hat not unlike that a cowboy would wear and some aviator glasses gave him an air of mystery but it was probably just for the sun.

After ogling at him for what felt like centuries he finally spoke up, his deep souther voice was exactly what you expected. He asked to pay for the gas as well as a pack of cigarettes, a can of motor oil as well as some beef jerky and water.

The cigarettes where behind the counter and the motor oil was on the shelf besides the employee break room.

The water and jerky where at the storage room since you’d eaten the last of the jerky and the water was kept there to keep it cool. 

You pointed him towards the motor oil and said you’d get him the rest from the back room. 

As soon as he was given the direction he turned around and went to grab the can, you couldn’t help yourself but take a look at him before going to the back room. His plump ass filled out his denim pants nicely, and you could finally see he was wearing a pair of cowboy boots. 

You went to the back room and quickly took the pack of meat and cold water. When you got back to the counter the man had stopped mid way before reaching the counter and was looking at the products in the other shelves. Noticing you finally came back he walked up to the counter. 

You looked at him now from head to toe, besides the upper part from his torso you could now see his shirt was tucked into his denim pants with help of a belt buckle not unlike those a cow wrangler would where, further down you finally saw it.

His bulge was massive, not only could you make out his balls had to be the size of large eggs, you could see his dick starting to snake down the leg of his pants due to how thick his muscular thighs were.

His monster of a dick would have to have been at least 8 inches soft to make such an imprint, you could even make out the large perfectly shaped cockhead.

This was the body of a corn fed, hard working testosterone filled southern man with amazing genetics. And this was the kind of man you wish you were. 

As the thought of how you’d want to be like this man passed your train of thought he was already at the counter and cash register.

He probably noticed by now that you’d been checking him out, but with a physique like that he was probably used to it by now.

With the things and gas tallied up in the register he took out his wallet to pay, you saw his drivings license and then realized, this guy is 23, just a year older than me and he’s a full fletched man.

With everything paid the man walked through the door, he stopped for a second. 

Looked at you, pulled down his glasses and winked. His eyes where a piercing hazel with hints of green.

You sat there thinking about him for the rest of the day soon enough the sun had gone down and it was time to close up shop. 

With everything locked you went to the employee bathroom and gave yourself another good look. “I wish I was like that man” you exclaimed to yourself. 


The door bell had rung despite the doors being closed.

You rushed out and surely enough there was no one in sight. The only thing was a small parcel that somehow had gotten on the pad that controlled the automatic doors.

You took it, made sure everything was locked up and went back to the employee room which was now your makeshift bedroom.

It’s not like you didn’t have an apartment, but spending the week at the gas station was just more reasonable and convenient with the gas prices rather than driving out and back each day.


You sat on the dumpy mattress in only your boxers and a wifebeater you used to sleep in. The parcel was made of brown paper and appeared to be hand made and tied together by a piece of string.

You undid the string and opened the parcel.


Inside of the parcel was a note written on the same kind of brown paper, a small golden piece of clay and a golden metal chain. You decided to read the note first.

“I saw you where quite eager while looking at me when I visited the station. I could tell by your look that you yearn for something more, maybe be something more. Either way this gift was once given to me when I asked myself what is truly a man, an ideal man. And I though why not give this gift to you too.

So here it is, the ideal idol of a man. Shape the golden clay into the ideal man you envision (it doesn’t have to be perfect, just envision it in your mind as you mold it) let it dry by tomorrow and put it on the chain and wear it. I promise it won’t disappoint” 

You obvious first reaction was thinking that this was some joke, the man noticed you staring, thought he’d do this as a prank and then go back tomorrow to laugh at you or something. But this does seem like way too much effort for a joke.

It’s not like it’d hurt to try it right?

You grabbed the ball of clay.

As soon as you did a question popped into your mind.

“What’s your ideal man?”

You thought about the man from before. Tall, strong and virile you thought.

But why stop at that, “be something more”you thought.

If he was 6 feet tall, I’ll be 7. You thought about how it would feel being such a massive hunk of a man.

A 7 foot tall behemoth of a man, with massive musculature and strength that not even years of hard labor could give but only dedication to body building and strength training as well as genetics could.

Chiseled, manly features, the hormones in your body  able to grow a full beard in about a week or two.  Your whole body covered in a thick layer of coarse black hair and vascular muscle. Just oozing manly pheromones, the ripe smell of a true man you thought.

Going further down you imagined how nice it’d be to easily be able to go from chiseled abs to a nice muscle gut once desired.

A nice optimal metabolism to pair with the ever needy behemoth body.

Even further down you thought about the manhood, the pride and joy of a true man.

Thinking about how it would be to have an obscenely large manhood made your dick twitch, if he was 8 inches soft then I’ll be 10, and as thick as my wrists. Not you own wrists but the ones of a real man, your ideal man.

A thick veiny trouser monster even while soft, that would bulge in anything and strain the seams of any poor crotch not designed for absolute monster cocks.

The head like a mushroom big, purple and uncut for maximum sensitivity.

The balls large and heavy due to all the testosterone they had to pump as well as all the speed they produced. They hang low and are the size of tennis balls. Your bulge would be hard to hide, but who would want to hide that they’re a real man.

You think about how you’d like the ideal cock to be when hard.

A massive pillar of manhood and lust, as thick and long as a forearm, with bulging veins and leaking precum like a faucet. Completely impossible to hide, the true virile and primal lust of a real man.

A real man should be able to last as long as he wants and go for as long as he wants.

A real man can cum buckets and still go if he so pleases.

You last thoughts got blurry but it was something along the lines of a plump nice butt and general health stuff.

With your ideal complete now your hands had formed and crude idol or statuette of a muscular man with what appeared to be a large manhood. It was not unlike the crude portrayals by the Roman’s of Priapus or the Norse of Frey. 

With the clay now formed, you put it besides your makeshift bed. 

You went to the bathroom to take of some steam after all the thinking and finally slept.

Your dreams despite having taken a load off before bed where filled with imagery of strong men beyond anything conventionally human, at least for average standards.

You woke up, just a bit before your usual time of waking up, the statue has shrunk, no longer clay like but firm as golden metal and a hoop was at the top for the chain to go through for it to be worn.

You put the figurine on the chain and decided to wear it for the day, your work shirt hid the obscene imagery of a muscular well endowed man, pretty well.

At least something good came out of wearing the oversized shirt of the previous cashier. Who knows, maybe this will fit once you get big? Or maybe not, at least you got a necklace from it.

You still didn’t feel anything though.

The day was uneventful as expected, maybe it was a prank after all. But if it was wouldn’t that man had come here by now to make fun of you?

While thinking about it, the heat finally got to you and you dozed off at the counter in front of the register.


Soon enough you were woken up by the sound of the doorbell, you expect to see the man from yesterday but instead it was an old, balding and chubby man.

He asked for help bringing the bags filled with soda and processed food from the gas station you probably wouldn’t want to put in your body. “Is this how you get when you’re old if you’re like me?” You thought to yourself. 

The man left and you remembered how you wanted to be, even when old with a physique like that and some training you’d be strong into your late 70’s. You pulled the figurine out of your shirt and looked at it while fidgeting with it in your hands. “yeah it’d be great to be like this”.


After closing up shop for the day you decided it was good time to finally check the internet about this. It’d be most peoples first call when finding something mysterious like a golden clay idol to change oneself into an ideal version. 

Internet results gave little and the fact that the land lines where built decades ago didn’t help with your search either.

No celular service out here either, that’s a shame you thought. 

It’s not like anyone would call but it’d be nice to at least have some mobile data out here.

You took a shower in the employee bathroom, having sweated a bit more than usual.

You left the chain on figuring it wouldn’t hurt to just leave it on, the metal seemed quite durable anyways.

You closed you eyes while shampooing your hair, the steam from the shower slowly clouding the mirror. You kept thinking of the old man and the buff man from yesterday and who you’d want to be like, the answer was obvious.

The chain glistened under the water, the soothing and cleansing liquid carefully flowing over each crevice and muscle on the statue as well as your own.

The heat of the shower slowly making you relax as you lost yourself for what felt like minutes, then you realize the water isn’t falling on your head anymore but you can still hear it spilling on the shower stalls floor and drain.

You slowly open your eyes, you’re eye level is above the shower head.

You try to turn and your elbow hits the wall of the shower.

You yell “Fuck!” As a response but it comes out a lot deeper than you expected.

You then realize your body has changed.

You look down at yourself and are greeted by your massive hairy pectorals, broad shoulders and fat horse cock and bull balls. You put your now big strong hands on your pecs and feel them, big boulders of muscle form on your chest, feeling the thick coarse black hair adorning them and finally your perky and sensitive nipples. Running your hands further down you feel your washboard abs. You try flexing them and can easily do so. Further down you follow your treasure trail, than runs from your abs and chest down to your behemoth of a phallus.

It takes both hands to grip your girth and the length flows out even with both hands trying to contain it. You feel the thick veins running on its surface and can feel each beat of your strong heart, pumping the beast full of the blood and hormones it needs to sustain such a gargantuan size. You fondle your testicles now, each one filling up your hand, large factories of sperm and testosterone hang low a pendulous between your muscular legs. You can only imagine the sound they’ll make while slapping agains the back end of whoever will be the victim of your massive cock when erect. Thinking of this gets you excited and the blood starts to pump.

In question of seconds you get hard as steel and your cock is easily beyond 12 inches pushing towards 14-15 and as thick as your forearm so now even with both hands you can’t fully grasp it. Your behemoth cock is leaking tons of precum, like a hungry beast salivating at the thought of its next prey. The purple and veins pulsate menacingly. You can’t help yourself but masturbate in the shower. 

You pump as good as you can your massive meat, your thick fingers feeling the veins as you move them up and down. You realize how much control you feel you have. The sense of urgency you used to feel while doing this is as good as gone, you could go for hours if you wanted to.

But you want to finish, you want to see what this monster of a manhood can do.

You pump harder than before, leaking more and more, forming a puddle on the shower floor and coating your fingers with the sticky transparent substance. 

You fondle your balls with the other hand to stimulate yourself more and soon enough with a deep manly grunt you release onto the shower wall.

Thick ropes of musky semen spew out of your pulsating cock. Painting the ocean blue tiles a pale pear white.

Spurt after spurt come out of your cock while your balls contract out of the effort, it takes a good minute before you’re done with it and it is way beyond anything a normal man could manage. The thick creamy  cum pools on the drain of the shower and it’s easily 2-3 cups worth of it. And you can tell it is all virile. You clean the head of your cock with your finger and give the bit left on it a lick. It tastes surprisingly good, the smell of it you can only describe as manly. 

It takes about another minute before you feel ready to go again and you can tell it will be as much as your first load if you so decided to. However you should probably drink some water. 

You step out of the shower carefully trying to not hit your head on your way out. 

You’ll clean up the shower later.

You try to cover yourself with your towel but the head of your cock peeking out from the bottom and it barely covering your large muscles is nothing short of an obscene sight.

You clear the fogged up mirror with your hand, it’s now at chest height for you, so you squat down a little to get a better look at your face. 

Your features are those of a real man, chiseled and stereotypically masculine.

You could tell by the dark stubble that a full beard would grow thick if not shaved often, you decided to leave it be.

You stepped out of the employee bathroom with only a towel on and into your new life as a real man, an ideal man. 


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