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  2. As for muscle on the hoof, I think the first time I ever spotted a real muscleman was on a family vacation to the Pacific Northwest. We were in Gastown in Vancouver BC at a pizza joint. I think there had been a contest of some kind that day. Anyway there was a table of bodybuilders at the next table going to town on multiple pies etc. I suspect it was a post contest celebration as there were several pitchers of beer as well. I particularly remember this one musclegod--blond, tan, handsome with a killer bod crammed into a very tight navy blue short sleeve Polo. He was showing considerable pec cleavage and had a gold chain with what looked like it might have been a coke spoon on it. This was the late 70s after all. I spent the entire meal staring at this glorious stud, while desperately trying not to stare... or drop my pizza...or space off the family conversation and have the folks ask what the fuck. As I watched this dude's biceps try and escape from his sleeves I developed a significant tent in my pants. Terrifying and thrilling for a closeted fat teen in public! I swear by Odin's bristling shorthairs that this stud knew I was oogling him. Either that or he was just putting it out for the whole restaurant. At any rate, they got up to before we were done and he had to squeeze out between me and their table. He had on very tight white bell bottoms and sported a great set of wheels and a very full pickinik basket indeed! I managed to get up without falling over (keeping my napkin in a strategic place trying to hide the chubster), but was so stunned that I just stood there gawping for what seemed like a month. In real time it was likely only a second or two. I then came back to reality and shuffled aside trying not to look at him in any sort of obvious way. I think I mumbled something apologetic as I shuffled. As he sidled by I looked him in the face. He had very nice blue eyes and a big grin. I swear he winked as he gave me a bit of a light shoulder punch and said "no problem." If my folks had not been right there I think I could have dropped and blown him right on the spot! The sight of him walking away from me across that restaurant is one I will cherish until I drop dead. 10,000 thanks to he who I think of in my mind as Thor...who ever you were!
  3. Today
  4. I'm trying to space these out one per day so as not to overwhelm people! And keep you thirsty bros coming back for more. Next chapter is one of my favorites in the whole story, so look for that tomorrow morning!
  5. Just like Chuck, I want more! (Installments of this awesome story, I mean.)
  6. es difícil complacer todos los gustos pero seria bueno empezar a ver historias en español ojalá alguien de el primer paso para que sigamos con esto, por ejemplo alguien comienza una aca y alguien mas le da continuación a su gusto como dije antes un ejemplo si se animan los estaremos pendientes.
  7. In this chapter, Chuck struggles internally with how much bigger he should get, then goes to the gym, where he uses his new tricks to stay energized throughout the day and grow a little more. Chapter 5: Chuck awoke with a hard on, aching for release. He stretched and realized his full size bed was getting a bit small for him now that he was 275lbs of bulky muscle. He could tell he had been dreaming about growing all night, because it was the first thing that popped into his head when he opened his eyes. He pushed the sheets off and looked down at the mountainous pecs that weren’t there two days ago, covered with a dusting of orange fur and rising and falling with his deep breaths. He ran a hand over them, feeling the roundness and fullness of them, and chuckled. It still didn’t seem real, like a dream, but there it all was when he woke up. He wondered if he should tell anyone else, if he should report it in to the University so he could be tested and to make sure he was still healthy; as great as it was to get so big, he was worried about-- A fuzzy static washed over his thoughts and all he could think about was how badly he wanted it all to grow bigger, more and more, and he lost track of what he had been thinking about before. He remembered: he was getting up to go to the gym. He rose out of bed, grabbed his U of M hat from the nightstand, and walked over to the bathroom, his heavy feet thumping against his hardwood floors. He relished the feeling of his thighs rubbing against each other as he walked. He flicked on the light and grunted in satisfaction of what he said; a heavyweight lifter, or maybe an offseason bodybuilder, burly and big all over. His square jaw was covered in a short-trimmed beard and his piercing blue eyes seemed to glow in the bright lights of the bathroom. He shrugged his shoulders and watched his traps tense up; he brought his arms up and flexed his chest and shoulders, watching the delts puff up into balls of meaty muscle; he raised his arms up higher and flexed his biceps, watching them swell into solid peaks. His pits stank; he hadn’t showered at all yesterday, but he liked the sour muskiness of his own smell, different from before the accident, more like a football jock and less like a lazy loser like he was before. He moved his arms down and jiggled the growing paunch of his tummy. Finally he reached lower and grabbed his hard cock and started stroking vigorously, admiring the way the muscles in his arm and shoulder tensed and flexed and moved as he stroked. He looked at himself, awed by the size and bulk he possessed now, delirious with joy. He had never dreamed he would actually get to this size, and now, in two days, he had it all. Maybe he could be satisfied with this size and not have to— Another wave of static washed over his mind and he couldn’t even hear himself think, couldn’t comprehend anything except the NEED to have more energy and get bigger. His thoughts were flooded by images of himself grabbing other, smaller people, siphoning size from them and draining their muscles, watching their surprised faces as they got skinnier and he got bigger. He imagined himself in the locker gym at his gym, cornering someone in the steam room and pinning them against the seat as he grew. He pictured himself in the shower with another, smaller man, wrapping his huge arms around them and squeezing and crushing them until he felt the energy pour into him. The energy, oh it felt good, he remembered now. It was orgasmic, and he had to have more of it, had to find a way to get more. His cock throbbed and twitched as he imagined utterly dominating someone like he had with Clint the day before and watching them disappear in his grasp. Suddenly his cock exploded, splashing creamy white spunk all over the bathroom mirror, it onto the floor as Chuck twitched and grunted. There was a lot of it, more than he had ever shot before, and he grinned to see the mess he made. He came to this senses a bit and could think straight for a moment, wondering how it could even be possible he was able to do this, how much more he would want before he felt normal again, but soon his mind was once again shouting at him to get bigger. He had to get to the gym and lift all day. He distantly remembered that it was Monday and he should be going to work, but that didn’t seem important anymore. Why would he want to do anything other than get bigger? Chuck cleaned himself and went to get dressed but found it very hard to find anything that fit right. He decided to stop somewhere to buy new clothes first. -- The desk clerk gave Chuck a raised eyebrow as he scanned his gym card. The picture on file didn’t quite match the burly meathead that had just come through the door, but he could sort of see a resemblance… like the guy in the picture was this guy’s little brother or something. The desk guy shrugged and waved Chuck in. Chuck noticed the different way people looked at him now as he walked into the gym. Smaller people gave him a wide berth. The other big guys in the gym gave him a second look, sizing him up, comparing themselves to this new big guy. Chuck got a few looks from people who seemed to recognize him, but then turning away when he looked at them directly. He just smirked and headed to the locker room. Chuck’s bag was full of new gym clothes. He unzipped it and found the new tank tops and shorts he had bought. They were comically too big on him, baggy and loose to the point of nearly falling off, but he had bought them too big on purpose. He knew he would grow into them soon enough. There were stretchy Under Armour shirts, leggings and compression shorts, basketball shorts, stringer tank tops, and stretchy briefs of varying sizes. There was even a new pair of shoes, bigger than the ones he was currently wearing, too big to fit him… for now. He pulled out a tight, white Under Armour compression shirt and pulled it up over his head. It was a 2XL, a bit big for his 275lb frame, and it had some folds and loose spots instead of hugging his body tightly like it should. He’d have to change that. He slipped into some stretchy compression shorts, which were more than enough to support his heavy package, and black basketball shorts. The shorts made his ass look huge, he noticed in the mirror on the way out of the locker room. Chuck walked onto the gym floor and took a deep, satisfied breath. It was only 9am, and he had the whole day ahead of him. The clanking of metal and thumping of bad pop music made him feel right at home. -- An hour later, Chuck was finishing a set of squats. The skin-tight white compression shirt he was wearing was soaked in sweat, and the black basketball shorts he was wearing were hiking up on his pumped up quads. He was still testing the limits of his new strength. He had lifted yesterday too, but he found he was even stronger today. He loved looking in the mirror and flexing after every lift, admiring the new size on his big body. He flexed his quads and watched them bulge out, thick as tree trunks, strong and solid. He adjusted his maroon U of M hat and watched his upper arms swell. They had to be close to 20” now. He was getting tired though, and the buzzing in his head was getting harder and harder to ignore. He wanted to keep lifting, and there was an easy way to score some quick energy. He eyed a muscular, lean black guy racking weights over on the next squat rack. Perfect. Chuck went to grab another weight to add to his bar—he already had been squatting 405—and “accidentally” bumped into the guy, his beefy arm bumping against his shoulder. He reached out and gave into the thrumming need for more size raging inside him and felt a burst of energy surge into his body. “Oops, sorry bud,” Chuck said with a grin as he immediately felt reinvigorated. It was like a breath of fresh air, or scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach, or that feeling when the first rush of caffeine hits you in the morning after drinking a strong coffee. It felt right, and it felt good. The black guy backed up to give Chuck space and felt a cold sweat wash over his body. “M-my bad,” he said and he decided to take some weight off the rack instead of putting more on. Chuck went about his workout like this the rest of the day: lifting for an hour, setting new PRs and throwing around weights he had only ever dreamed of, and then refueling on an unsuspecting lifter. Every time it felt like scratching an itch, or getting a drink of water, or blinking… something that felt so natural and so good he wondered why he ever felt bad about taking energy from people in the first place. He did legs—squats, deadlifts, lunges, calf raises; then back and biceps—lat pulldowns, standing rows, bent-over rows, shrugs, dumbbell curls, preacher curls; then shoulders—seated overhead press, upright rows, side laterals, rear delt raises; then chest—dumbbell bench press, inclines, declines, cable flies; then tris—pulldowns, skullcrushers, close grip bench; accessories, core work, even a little bit of cardio. In between lifts he leaned against the weights and looked over his muscles in the mirror, tensing his traps, arms, shoulders, chest, everything. He left sweat puddles where ever he went, evidence of his exertion. People around him stared at the big, sweaty brute in the U of M hat that they sort of recognized but couldn’t quite place, but Chuck didn’t notice. He was too focused on admiring his new size. Every time he felt tired, he just took a little more. He shook hands with a smaller lifter who asked him to spot him; he bumped into a woman getting a drink from the water fountain; he high-fived a trainer he had chatted with the day before. He took and took all day, never getting hungry or tired because the energy filled him right back up. He walked to the locker room, realizing he had to adjust his gait to accommodate his bigger thighs. He was getting closer to waddling now, wide shoulders swaggering back and forth as he walked, barrel chest sticking out in front of him, thighs rubbing together. In the locker room, he weighed himself. He was 290. His sweat-soaked Under Armour dug into his biceps as he tensed them, and the fabric puckered where his delts met his chest, the big muscles fighting for space. The whole shirt felt tighter than just a few hours before. Chuck didn’t even notice that he had been lifting for 8 hours straight. Eventually he noticed another, bigger guy walk into the gym. It was Eddie, one of the biggest lifters who came to the gym regularly. Chuck had always had a thing for the big Latino, admired his size and strength, was jealous of how easy he made it seem, turned on by his huge muscles. He licked his lips like a lion seeing an injured gazelle and felt a shiver tingle up and down his spine. Eddie was still bigger than Chuck by a lot, 6’4” and probably around 320lbs of off-season muscle. Seeing someone bigger than him made Chuck feel all the old insecurities about his size come rushing back. Chuck lifted for another hour and a half, watching Eddie go through his sets on chest and tris. Despite Chuck’s gains, Eddie still outlifted him on every exercise. A seething, angry jealousy filled Chuck as he watched. He needed to have THAT size. He wanted it all for himself. But he held back and avoided Eddie on the gym floor. He didn’t want to make a scene. But he knew the big lifter liked to hit the sauna afterwards. Finally Eddie was done with his workout and he sauntered back to the locker room, his stringer tank top dark with sweat, his tattooed arms shining and pumped. Chuck followed him. In the locker room, Chuck took off his clothes and headed back to the sauna. He felt thick, powerful, and pumped. He took stock of himself in the mirror before following the big offseason bodybuilder into the sauna. Chuck looked like if a college football lineman had spent the last 15 years lifting hard and eating harder, a powerful mix of fat, muscle, and fur. He opened the steam room and walked in.
  8. I believe it is Andrea Presti.
  9. Do tell!
  10. Hey guys, you know who that is in the pic?
  11. Fuck yeah! More stories like this, please!
  12. Yeah, there's plenty of stories out there of the underdog coming out on top. I like seeing the stories where the underdog gets crushed under the weight of the top dog's ever increasing bulk.
  13. In the Lion King they called that "The Circle of Life"....
  14. Wow, great work! can't wait for more!!!!
  15. Love it! I figured Chuck would make his little friend, well, disappear. Think of all the size to be had!
  16. What a HOT love story. I sure wish I could take some special pills and get BIG. Please keep writing for all of us that are unable to do. I love to lay in bed and read the stories and dream about getting bigger. Thanks again
  17. Me too; I like brutish selfish men who take what they want. Keep on this line. What is causing the change is not that important
  18. To quote the MST3K theme song: "if you're wondering how he eats and breaths and other science facts, repeat to yourself 'it's just a show, I should really just relax'" If you feel bad for the little guy, this may not be the story for you. I like my big bully protagonists to have all the power; they're bigger and stronger, so they get what they want... and that usually means growing and fucking. Sorry!
  19. Thanks for following me.

  20. This kinmd of stories always make me feel bad for the loosers. Clint was a nice guy that just wanted to enjoy sex and now Chuck ruined it. One thing tho. If there are nanorobots the things that are making these changes wouldnt be Clint full of them cause Chuck is coming inside of him everytime?
  21. Yesterday
  22. Thanks for following me.

  23. its uncanny you just wrote this because I mentioned it in my response. I usually take this into account when lifting because i started with a powerlifting style -- so risk was something I was more cognizant of.
  24. My intuition and basic understanding of bio-mechanics really set off alarms when I was about to emulate the exercise that i saw some big boy bodybuilder do online. But monkey see, monkey do, monkey dies or gets fucked up. To continue off @AlMacArthur, Smith presses can be potentially harmful fundamentally because the barbell motion is set on a track. There is some variation within smith machines as to the angle of the track sometimes but regardless of the angle, your position to the bar is crucial to how much strain you are putting on your shoulders, back, etc. When you do a standing barbell press, the barbell should be moved in a straight line while your body adjust to stay beneath the bar while keeping good posture. You can't move your body beneath the bar on a smith machine as easily, so any errors in positions will only exacerbate unnatural positions. If you were to do barbell, you should stick to standing as long as you can practice good posture. The problem with seated barbell was that I did not have the freedom to let go of the bar or move away from it in an emergency. Knowing how to properly fall out of an exercise is important too. Seated barbell is a good option as said above. I also prefer it because it work on your shoulder stabilizers --- but like any exercise, proper form is foundational. Even in a seated exercise, you can end up curving your back when you're pushing really hard and have it give out.
  25. FWIW, I tend to do things heavier and closer to my limits than perhaps the average gym-goer, so I'm more acutely aware of where many lifts become dangerous. Everything seems safe when you're doing it without much weight, but when you get tired or ambitious, all of a sudden something that seemed like a non-issue when it was easy can dislocate your shoulder. I recommend with any lift to look at "what might go wrong if I did this really heavy", and 1) choose a different lift that doesn't have that danger (dumbbell or standing barbell press, in this instance), or 2) learn to mitigate that danger (practice bailing from a failed lift, or get a spotter), or 3) make a note to yourself to not go heavy on that lift (so why bother? i just really like seated cable flyes, they feel nice, but I digress). Seated barbell press for me has several "this shit could go wrong and there's nothing I would be able to do about it" deal-breakers, which is why I don't do them.
  26. He starts fairly average, and even at 275 I wanted to keep his proportions fairly realistic. 7in isn't super long, but let's talk about GIRTH instead! And trust me, as the story goes on, his cock, like the rest of him, is going to get PLENTY bigger!
  27. Regarding the smith machine, I would also avoid it and any sort of machine for overhead presses, especially while seated. I know a guy who fucked up several cervical vertebrae using a seated overhead press machine, and I presume a Smith machine would pose a similar danger. Getting it out of the resting position can cause you to tweak yourself in all sorts of funky-ass ways. Your neck and back can compensate for stability in ways that your glutes and legs would take care off while standing. The Smith, imho, is not a machine to use when you're doing anything remotely near your limits. Use it to burn out a muscle doing a move where technique isn't important, if you use it at all.
  28. I've never tried them with a Smith machine (but I avoid that apparatus in most cases). Dumbbell doesn't seem as bad. A lot of the danger comes when un-racking the barbell, when you're pushing a lot of weight from a standstill and can be tempted to really crank the lower back to get that last couple pounds up. There's a lot more pressure on your spine while you're sitting than while standing, and that just makes the problem a lot more crunchy from an unstable position. Worse yet is that the rack is behind you, so it's an even weirder way to put your center of gravity and potentially lose the balance of something precariously sitting above your head while your spine is in a disadvantageous position and you have no easy way to bail from the movement. I never do overhead dumbbell movements sitting, but probably because I don't find any benefit to that over standing, and standing is better for your back anyways, likely especially when you're loading yourself with something over your head. Compared to a standing barbell press from a rack, a seated barbell press: - has a clumsy un-rack and re-rack position - starts you off partway toward the top of the movement rather than at the bottom - offers no safe escape from a failed rep without a spotter - is rougher on the back - does not allow your feet to "help" out of the hole, as may or may not be desired - does not allow you to shift your balance to "catch" yourself if the weight wobbles too far forward or backward, as tends to happen when things get heavy A seated dumbbell press alleviates many of those concerns, if you insist on doing things seated. As might a smith machine, but a smith machine introduces all sorts of other issues that I'm not fond of... I'd only ever use that machine for burnout/pump work toward the end of the workout, rather than anything heavy or technique-intensive. A seated dumbbell press only PARTIALLY alleviates the danger of taking your shoulder clean out of its socket, because a: you're only dealing with one hand at a time and a less unwieldy thing altogether, and b: you had to get the fucker to your shoulder to begin with, limiting how much weight you use. In summary, the big dangers I see... 1) you crank your back or neck trying to unrack it 2) if the weight drifts behind your center of gravity in an unexpected or unrecoverable way, it might tear your shoulder right off (standing, you just take a step back or, heaven forbid, throw the weight on the floor... even if you don't have bumpers, it's better the weight or floor get damaged than you hurt yourself badly) 3) No safe recovery from a failed rep... worse yet, since you're trying to rerack the weight behind you, a failed rep that leads to a failed rerack is excruciating to even think about. Perhaps that's what happened to tim? These are all TOTALLY UNNECESSARY dangers for overhead pressing, and are eliminated by doing the exercise standing up. The starting rack position is very advantageous, the re-rack position is at the bottom, resting position, and there are many safe ways to bail from the lift. And I really don't see much benefit to doing an overhead press while seated in the first place.
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