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  3. Tobias

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    I LOVE THIS! Your stories have been missed!
  4. dredlifter

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    I am the same way! But, this is a GOOD THING!! I get frustrated when I see a new story posted and I open it up and it's only 3 paragraphs long. Great work and love the length (that's what he said 😁)
  5. arpeejay

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    That was a treat, thanks! As one of Jaypat's characters said, "I want to keep my glorious brain intact!" Otherwise I would sign up for a boy bag in a minute! 😂 As it is, I count myself lucky to be a 60 y.o. with a hottie 25 y.o. straight boy as a lifting buddy. Absent a boy bag, it's more than sufficient! PS: Do you know Jaypat's stuff? Awesome writer!
  6. musclesmoker

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    So fucking hot. Keep the transformations coming. Would love to see the formula improve and make them even bigger, especially their junk.
  7. muscledrain

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    Fantastic himbo ending.
  8. Yesterday
  9. liftme

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    Ok let me just put this out there...do me/us a huge favor and continue writing these short stories!!!! Dang that was great man. You do an awesome job, sir. Thank you for your time.
  10. TinyNico21

    Incredible Hulk

    Damn !! I Love Hulk superstrength : the way he plays with helicopter, the way he bursts through the house !!! #ALERT #BONER
  11. xboy

    Incredible Hulk

    The hulk from Ruffalo is the best ever, but the Ang lee trasfromation are better in term of timing and show the morphing IMO
  12. newthirty

    Incredible Hulk

    The Button scene was too dark ... Here two other moments
  13. Absman420

    Story -- BOY IN A BAG

    (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Friends, I just can’t write a short story -- I mean, I can’t write a story that’s short. I swear, I’ve tried -- I even tried here -- but for some reason, I get started and I suddenly realize I’m writing ANOTHER long-ass rambling. Forgive me. And if your erotic attention span isn’t long enough to get to my denouement, well… what can I say? I warned you.) BOY IN A BAG By absman420 He’d reached a time in his life when compliments ended with “for your age” -- “You’re in great shape… for your age” or “I hope I’m still training that hard when I’m your age” and the like (“the like” being “sure, you’re bald, but at least your head has a nice shape”) -- that little barb hidden inside the kindness, wrecking the whole thing. Didn’t people realize how patronizing that was? How condescending? Worse, he’d gone from desirable muscle-daddy to invisible man almost overnight. The gym, which had always been a flirty, playful place, was now a place where men practiced the art of aversion -- no eye-contact, no acknowledgement, no existence. The arc of life for the gay top, he consoled himself as he lay on the gym mat, stretching -- prostates, erectile dysfunction, man-boobs, nope… you can’t fight time. Look at those beautiful boys! There was a seeming pack of them at the gym, dim-witted and gorgeous, ponderously over-built but for their baby-faces, endlessly posing and giggling with each other -- oh, how he wished the kind of designer drugs that existed now had existed when HE’D been their age! Hell, in his day, they used to inject veterinary-grade horse testosterone! Now it was all pro-hormone this and peptide that -- they had these perfect bodies and these perfect complexions and no fucking clue how lucky they were. There they were now in their tights and their meggings showing off their beautiful asses and their full, unatrophied balls -- they lifted their shirts so often to check their abs it’s like they had to keep reminding themselves they had them. Wilson sighed -- he was envious and he knew it. It never used to bother him, but lately Wilson had discovered himself crossing some imaginary line to old man. Sexually, he didn’t seem to have “it” anymore -- no one seemed attracted to him. His body was still fairly good -- for his age -- certainly nothing like it was back when he competed, but if no other truth became clearer to Wilson as he got older it was that gravity always won. Hell, even after you die, gravity keeps pulling you back down. Suddenly, dropping down next to him on the mat -- see? gravity -- another beauty of a guy -- mid-thirties, maybe, spent too much time in the sun, but an amazing body. As he started to stretch, he looked at Wilson and smiled. “Hey, hot daddy,” he said. “Hey, hot muscleboy,” Wilson said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said -- almost by habit. The guy stopped what he was doing and met Wilson’s gaze. He smirked. “Woof,” he said. Wilson barked a laugh. “You’re too kind,” he said. “But someone like you should be flirting with those ridiculously hot boys over there, not wasting your charm on old guys like me.” “I like old guys like you,” he said as he glanced over at the pretty boys. “They’re a bunch of doofuses. Pretty… but overpriced.” He chuckled. “I don’t have to pay… yet.” Wilson sighed as he stretched his hamstring. “I don’t have to pay, either.” The guy laughed. “No,” he said. “Not when you got hunky guys like me throwing themselves at you.” “Oh? Are you throwing yourself at me?” “I think so,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Jonas. Wanna fuck?” ********************************************************* Wilson hadn’t fucked anyone at the gym in years -- and here he was slamming the fuck out of this hot muscle-guy in the posing room. Thank God everything was cooperating -- at his age, his cock wasn’t always agreeable to spontaneous sex. But there was something about this guy Jonas -- fucking beautiful body -- fucking AMAZING ass -- that made his cock proceed with confidence. Of course they were rushed -- who knew when one of the bodybuilders (or that roving gang of pretty boys) would decide they wanted the posing room for themselves? And if they DID come in, would they be repulsed or intrigued? Would they run or join? Fight or flight? They fucked facing the mirror, Jonas bent over the small bench that people normally dropped their clothes or gym bags on. God, he was beautiful! Muscular without being thick-waisted -- and his ass! A dream! A delicacy! Bubbled and round, but firm and no-nonsense -- when he flexed it, it was rock hard, but when he was relaxed, it was a cushion that Wilson loved pushin’. They both still wore their gym clothes -- and for that, Wilson could only be grateful, no need to see his saggy ass body next to this prime beast. Why couldn’t HE still be in his prime? Looking at his bald head and white beard in the mirror, he couldn’t help think he was off-season santa. No… don’t get distracted, you old fuck. Old maybe, but Wilson’s cock was still it’s big familiar self. As a youth, he learned he was a grower. He didn’t realize how big his cock WAS until he’d started having gay encounters. He thought all those guys in the locker room with big, soft cocks must get ENORMOUS when hard. Little did he know. And who didn’t love a true top? And who didn’t love a muscular top, at that? Wilson’s most exciting discovery when he’d first come to California was that a lot of the hypermuscular bodybuilders were bottoms, all of them looking for a big, strong Daddy to give them what they needed, discipline and dick. Wilson was good at both. But if there was one thing this old man couldn’t do, it was edge. He was nearly ready to cum before he’d even gotten a steady rhythm going. Or maybe it was just that this guy Jonas had some talent. “Oh fuck,” Wilson said, “I’m gonna cum! I can’t stop myself!” “Lemme have it, daddy!” Jonas grunted. “Put it deep in my hungry hole!” “Oh, shit!” sighed Wilson, and blew it. Old fucking man, he thought. When you were young, you’d have made that last longer than two minutes. Embarrassing. But Jonas didn’t seem to mind, as he set about the business of jerking off while Wilson’s dick was still inside him. Wilson reached around and pinched the guy’s nipples, tiny little small things on the swell of enormous pecs. “Oh, yes,” Jonas moaned, standing up a little straighter. When he shot his load, his cum hit the mirror, nearly three feet away. Pulling out and wiping off on his gym towel, Wilson did his best to throw off his embarrassment -- still, he tucked himself back in his jockstrap and shorts pretty fast. Nervous, he didn’t want to seem too desperate, or too grateful. “That was fucking hot,” Jonas said, wiping his cum off the mirror with his t-shirt. “I haven’t done anything like this in years,” Wilson said. “I can’t even remember the last time I was naughty at the gym. I think it was two owners ago, in the old steam room….” “You should do it more often,” Jonas said, putting the t-shirt in his gym bag. “You got a great dick.” Wilson chuckled. “Maybe,” he said, “but I can’t rely on him always performing on cue anymore. And, as you can see, it doesn’t always last that long.” “Don’t make excuses,” Jonas said, kissing him quickly as he walked past. “It was great. Not that I couldn’t get you something that would make it a little greater.” “Oh, really? I hate to step on your sales pitch, but I’ve tried just about every form and flavor of ED therapy there is, every pill and troche and injection and testicular device. Every rub and scrub and lotion from the tribal Amazon basin. At some point, a man has to accept a certain sexual inevitably.” Jonas laughed. “So I guess I should give you my card. I’m an ambassador for a local pharmacy that specializes in anti-aging.” Wilson smiled. “Is this a sales technique of yours?” “Why? Is it working?” Wilson lightly put his hand on Jonas’ round, firm ass. “Let’s say I’m intrigued,” Wilson purred. “And interested in more.” Jonas flicked his eyebrows. “Definitely,” he said. And they kissed. ********************************************************* “So, the company I work for has perfected a peptide growth-hormone variant that has shown spectacular success in testicular rejuvenation, visceral fat loss and muscle retention. They can’t call it the fountain of youth in a bottle, but it basically is. It’s still in limited release, but I have access to it -- if you want to try it.” “Really?” asked Wilson, genuinely intrigued, but nervous -- he never pictured an open conversation like this in a locker room. In his day, steroids had codewords and were discussed hush-hush in private. Nowadays almost nothing was illegal -- it was all prescribed! “I promise it’s nothing but good,” he said, standing there in just his towel, hung low over his narrow hips. “I mean, I’VE done it.” “You? On anti-aging therapy?” Wilson laughed, trying not to look like he was covering his saggy barrel belly. “You can’t be more than 30, 35 at most.” Jonas’ smile widened. “Bless you,” he said. “I’m fifty-three.” Wilson was dumbfounded. His jaw hung slightly open as he tried to take in the truth of Jonas’ statement. It was impossible -- it was some kind of weird joke. A guy he was calling “boy” a few minutes ago was only six years younger than him? Impossible! “Impossible…” “Is this the part where I show you my driver’s license?” Jonas laughed -- his good humor was unflappable. “Trust me, I was born in the sixties… and I’ve got the Bobby Sherman albums to prove it!” “But…” Wilson mumbled, making an empty gesture toward Jonas’ abs, his impossible mid-section. His youthful skin. “I can even get it for you at my rate -- c’mon, you know you wanna do it. Don’t be an old man… anymore.” They made eye contact -- Jonas smiled slyly. “Do it.” And Wilson was surprised by how quickly he said, “Okay.” ********************************************************* That was how Wilson found himself at Jonas’ beach house in Malibu that evening, watching the sun set over the ocean as Jonas explained the procedure. Wilson had done SOME research during the afternoon -- he’d read the pharmacy’s website, but found precious little about the actual compound he’d be taking. Just that it had been in trial tests and results had been promising. “It’s a series,” Jonas said, opening a small white cardboard box adorned with the pharmacy’s logo and removing an IV bag. “Four treatments -- one a week, sometimes ten days, depending on how quickly your body responds to the formula. Takes about a half-hour to do the IV. Side effect: it can make you a little nauseous, so you might want to crash here tonight. You might even just want to lay out here under the stars.” “Your house is beautiful,” Wilson said, settling into a lounge chair on the patio. “Perhaps I should’ve become a pharmacy rep when I retired.” Jonas laughed. “I’m also a pimp on the side,” he said, setting up the IV-stand next to Wilson’s chair. “Believe me, the best part of rejuvenation is the sex -- you forget how much you missed it.” Wilson was eye-level with Jonas’ thick package, proudly displayed in his too-small speedo -- Wilson licked his lips. “I can’t wait,” he said. “Let me get you set up then.” Jonas tied a rubber tube around Wilson’s bicep and said, “Give me a vein.” Wilson squeezed his fist and his forearms popped. Jonas tore the needle out of it’s sterile wrapper and inserted it so neatly and painlessly into Wilson’s vein that Wilson realized the guy had a ton of experience. He attached the IV-line and the began the transfusion. “Beautiful,” he said, removing the rubber tube tourniquet and allowing Wilson’s blood to flow. “It’ll take about a half hour.” Wilson was still looking at Jonas’ junk. “No worries. I love the view.” ********************************************************* “A little nauseous” didn’t begin to describe it. Even the slightest movement caused his belly to flip, even less to flop. His body burned, a fire raging through him -- he’d go between rounds of horrible sweating to shakes of coldness as his wet clothes clung to him. It was worse than the worst flu he’d ever had. At one point, he remembered himself on the toilet, shit exploding out of him -- everything nasty coming out. The piss, the shit, the vomit -- who knew he had so much crap inside him. He was spewing every bit of it out. There were times he was aware of Jonas hovering over him, caring for him. “You’re doing great, Willy,” he thought he heard Jonas say. Why would he call him that? Wilson was delirious. Jonas put a cold-compress on his forehead -- he thought. Did he remember that? Imagine it? Hours later, as the fever broke, Wilson passed out. ********************************************************* His morning wood woke him, insistent and throbbing -- how many years had it been since he’d had THAT problem? Absently, he grabbed his cock with his hand, mildly impressed by it, as he surfaced back to reality. He was still lying on the lounge chair on Jonas’ patio, though someone had thrown a comforter over him sometime during the night. The sunrise was behind the house, casting long, cool shadows across the beach. He vaguely remembered moments of puking and sweating and diarrhea, but there seemed no evidence of that now -- his shorts and t-shirt were clean and dry. The only differences were this blanket… ...and this hard-on. Wilson lay quietly for a moment, listening to the ocean lap on the shore as he casually stroked his cock -- which seemed a bit more of a handful than usual, but that was probably because he hadn’t been this hard in a while. This was a teenager’s erection. And it felt really good. “Looks like someone’s up,” Jonas called, coming through the patio door carrying a coffee tray -- he was dressed in only an open bathrobe and a pair of tighty-whities, tight because of how he filled them. “How do you feel?” Wilson laughed. “I feel good,” he said, smiling. “Morning wood kind of good!” “That’s what I like to hear!” Jonas said, setting the coffee service down on the table. “It’s funny,” Wilson said, still absently playing with his hard-on beneath the comforter. “I swear I was sick overnight, like it was really bad, but now I feel clean and… hell, even my breath is fresh!” Jonas poured him a cup of coffee. “The first dose tends to clean out the internal systems…. Sugar? Milk?” “Black,” Wilson said, gladly taking the cup. Jonas continued talking as he made a coffee for himself. “As I was saying, first dose hits the internal system: the gut, the liver, kidneys, digestive system, endocrine system, sex organs. This week, as your internal systems reset, you’ll continue to feel better and better, healthier, I guess you could say. By the end of the week, you won’t even get acid reflux anymore. And wait’ll you see what it does to your sex drive.” “I’m already seeing that,” Wilson said. “I haven’t had morning wood in decades.” Jonas smiled that crooked, sly smile. “Don’t lose that,” he said. “I might want it after coffee.” “That’s the only cream I’ll take.” ********************************************************* Jonas had been right -- as the week progressed, Wilson did continue to feel better. His energy was better. His recuperation time was faster. Hell, even his poops were good -- and for an old man, like an old dog, quality of poops was everything. It all contributed to his good mood -- he felt good inside, healthy, and he couldn’t help but smile. He may still be an old, bald, white-bearded guy on the outside, but inside he felt good as new. People noticed. “Someone’s in a good mood!” they’d say to him at the gym, but with his workouts improving the way they were, it wasn’t a surprise. He hadn’t gotten pumps this good in a long while. His dizzy smile made sense -- and it felt good, too. Screw them if they wanted to wallow in their misery -- they weren’t gonna drag old Wilson down anymore. And his dick kept making itself known. Hell, he hadn’t had so many spontaneous erections since he’d been a teenager. Even at rest, it seemed half-hard -- and he’d swear it was bigger. He’d swear it. And his balls seemed fuller, too - -of course, they were working for the first time in years. Hell, Wilson figured he’d killed his balls off decades ago, putting himself through the kind of cycles he had when he’d been a competitor. But now, it seemed everything was back online. He didn’t try to show it off, but he felt like his cock was obvious in everything he wore -- and he liked it. He fucking liked EVERYTHING! ********************************************************* Here they were, the next Saturday evening, back on Jonas’ patio in Malibu. “So you like it so far?” Jonas asked. “Ready for the second dose?” “I love it!” Wilson cried happily. “Bring it on!” So Jonas set-up the second of the four IV-pouches, finding Wilson’s vein a little more easily than before. Wilson was delighted by the whole thing. “So the first dose reset your internal organs and systems, at the least -- in some cases, probably started the regeneration of some things -- but this next dose will be a little more obvious externally.” “In what way?” Wilson asked, watching the flow of liquid head down the tube. “Just like with growth hormone, the decrease of visceral fat -- you know, fat on internal organs. You’re gonna lean out like you were in a competition, but you don’t have to worry about diet. Lean and hard!” Wilson laughed. “I’m already hard!” Jonas laughed, too. “So I see. You just wait.” ********************************************************* With the second bag empty, Wilson was pleased that he didn’t feel as nauseous this time. But he did feel warm. Feverish, almost. “How you feelin’?” Jonas asked, disconnecting the IV. Wilson seemed to search for the right word. “Hot,” he mumbled. “Like a fever…” Jonas felt his forehead. “Yup. C’mon,” Jonas said, indicating Wilson to follow him, “let’s get on the stationary bike.” Wilson reluctantly climbed on the bike -- he was dizzy from fever -- he slid his feet into the straps. “I don’t think…” Jonas smiled. “You don’t need to think, Willy. I got you covered. Right now, you just need to pedal. Can you pedal for me?” “Yeah…” Jonas pressed a button on the bike’s console and the pedals started moving, forcing Wilson’s legs to move with them. “You got a terrible fever,” Jonas said into Wilson’s ear. “You gotta burn it out.” “Okay…” And so he pedaled. And pedaled. And Lord how he sweat. Delirious, he lost track of time and place. Jonas had thrown a towel over his head and that wiped out Wilson’s awareness. He pedaled and sweat, pumped and dripped. Occasionally, his exhaustion would slow him, his delirium would disorient him, but then he’d hear Jonas from somewhere saying, “Keep pedaling, Willy,” and he’d obey. He couldn’t reason enough to resist. Finally, hours later when the fever broke, he passed out -- he felt himself collapse on the bike’s console. But he was also aware of someone dragging him somewhere and laying him down. That same someone squeezed his rock hard cock and kissed his forehead. Wilson heard, “Go to sleep, Willy.” And he did. ******************************************************** He woke the same way as he had the week before: morning wood — throbbing, insistent morning wood. The only difference was this time there was a mouth on it, someone swallowing his big erection to the root. Wilson opened his eyes to see Jonas’ head bobbing up and down on his swollen cock. Wilson intended to lean his head back and shut his eyes, but by then he’d seen his own abs. His own abs! He was lean -- like, competition lean -- no, better than he’d been in competition! Wilson hadn’t competed in over thirty years -- some would argue that he’d gone to seed in that time -- but to look at his body in the morning sun, his abs flexing with each deep breath he took, following the tempo of Jonas’ rhythm, you’d think he was a sun-tan away from the Stage. “Oh my god, look at me!” he said, feeling his own torso with his hands, tweaking his own nipples (and even his nipples were pert and sensitive). He flexed a double-bi. “Look at me!” And with that, he shot his load, filling Jonas’ mouth and throat with a spectacular amount of cum. ********************************************************* It was really just the start of the process. For the remainder of the week, Wilson lost even more body-fat -- by the following Friday, his waist had tightened to an unimaginable thirty inches! Wilson was pretty sure the last time his waist was thirty inches was in Middle School, nearly fifty years ago. Even as a bodybuilder in his prime, Wilson had a roid gut, his abs pushed out by his swollen liver and internal organs. But over the course of the week, his roid gut became a lean, but densely muscled core. It accentuated his upper-body’s V-shape as well as the thick mass of his thighs. Part of him wanted to wear the same kind of tights he saw on those hot muscle boys -- as it was, Wilson’s legs were bigger than any two of them put together -- but he found himself a victim of the same insecurities he’d always had. “Get the fuck over yourself,” he laughed. “You could seduce every one of those boys if you’d change your stupid attitude.” He was actually starting to believe that. Maybe it was just his relentless good mood. But how could you not be in a good mood when your hair was growing back in? Oh yeah, that was the other thing. Sure, he was working out for hours a day, recuperating more and more quickly, losing body-fat while gaining muscle, but he was also regrowing his hair! It’s true! His bald head had sprouted a new growth, a new harvest of hair. He thought he’d made peace with being bald, but the renewed growth of hair on his head gave him a sense of elation even greater than the continued growth of his penis, or the fullness of his balls. Looking at himself in the mirror -- and how he was loving what he saw -- even his sensational abs couldn’t keep his focus. Every line in his incredible torso led the eye to his substantial package. But not Wilson’s — his eyes were drawn to the hair growing back on his head. His beard, which last week was completely white, was now two-thirds white, the odd reddish-brown hue of his youthful beard fighting its way in. For a man nearing sixty, Wilson looked middle-aged. Wrapped in a towel, as he made his way to the shower, the gang of muscle boys came in the locker room. Five of them, they were so beautiful -- youthful faces with these hyper-masculine bodies, over-developed muscle with the sizeable genitals they so proudly flaunted. Groomed to perfection, plucked and preened and peacock proud, they strutted in like they owned the place, all of them smiling and giggling and showing off. To Wilson, they were silly boys. Built, silly boys. Even feeling as good as he did, even looking as good as he was, Wilson felt intimidated by them. Like they were going to judge him and laugh at him. And dismiss him. But then, the unexpected happened. One of the boys made eye-contact with him, a beautiful Italian boy with black hair and sparkling blue eyes - lashes like Bambi. He made eye-contact with Wilson then quickly looked him up-and-down, then eye-contact again. He lifted his eyebrows and seductively smirked. Oh my god, Wilson laughed to himself. I just got cruised by one of them! In the shower, he jerked off thinking about it. ********************************************************* The third dose had really been the kicker, as far as Wilson was concerned. Even the burning nausea after the IV hadn’t been as bad, certainly not in comparison with the plusses. The morning after the third treatment, Wilson woke with a full head of hair, the same shade of auburn he’d had as a young man (not the glaring Opie-like red of his childhood)! Even his beard was now mostly reddish-brown -- overnight, he’d gone from a white beard with brown highlights to a brown beard with white highlights. Weirder still was that he lost all his body hair -- all the punishing old man hair, the ear hair, the back hair, the shoulder hair -- his leg hair and arm hair, too. Hell, even his ass was smooth -- baby smooth! He had the tiniest bit of pubic hair -- nothing on the genitals, themselves -- and his armpits had the same bare dusting. He considered shaving just to be done with it. His skin was smooth and flawless. As a redhead, his skin had been freckled and scarred from the sun -- the acne he had as a teen still left its mark -- but now, it was if his skin had regenerated (maybe it had!), as if it had started fresh. No wrinkles, no pock marks, no bags, no moles -- not even calluses on his hands! Studying himself in the mirror, he couldn’t attach an age to his face. Maybe forty -- maybe thirty-five and prematurely graying? Certainly not sixty -- and that was all that mattered. He was spending an insane amount of time at the gym, but his workouts felt so good he didn’t want to stop. His muscles kept growing, his waist kept tightening -- the pumps he got were nearly as good as sex -- and he felt so fucking amazing. He couldn’t help but flex in the mirror after a set, raising his shirt if he had to. He loved when he caught people looking, especially those boys… He was doing crunches at the end of his workout when he happened to spot Jonas on the far side of the gym, joking around with some old guy -- Wilson didn’t recognize the guy, but he was surprised to find himself the tiniest bit jealous. Did he have a thing for Jonas? “Forget about that guy,” a voice next to Wilson said, surprising him. Wilson glanced over quickly to see that muscular Italian Boy with the Bambi lashes squatting down next to him on the mat. He wore neon green tights and a white sleeveless t-shirt, his overly muscular arms exposed and pumped. When they made eye-contact, the boy smiled -- perfect, white teeth beneath soft, full lips. Wilson, still on his back, returned the smile and asked, “What are you talking about?” The boy nodded toward Jonas. “That guy, Jonas,” he said. “Forget it. He only goes for the old guys.” Wilson barked a laugh. “What?” “Seriously,” the boy said, “the old guys -- the really old guys -- the grandpas. You don’t stand a chance.” From the floor, Wilson offered the boy his hand. “Wilson,” he said. The boy shook it with both his. “Hi Wilson. I’ve seen you around. You’re super-hot…” Wilson waited for the inevitable “...for your age” but it never came. The boy just squatted there holding Wilson’s hand and grinning. Wilson prompted him. “And you are…?” The boy blushed. “Oh… duh. I’m Roddy.” “Roddy?” “HOT Roddy,” the boy said, laughing. The light sparkled in his blue eyes. “That’s my club name. I’m a go-go dancer!” “Of course you are,” Wilson chuckled — the kid was so sincere. Then, as Wilson started his next set of crunches, he glanced toward Jonas, who was still working the old man. The boy, Roddy -- Hot Roddy -- suddenly stepped over Wilson’s torso, straddling him. “What are you doing?” Wilson asked. The boy smiled, squatting slightly. “Keeping your attention,” he said, and began swaying his hips to some unheard beat. Go-go dancing. God, he was beautiful. In a move he hadn’t used since high school wrestling, Wilson sat up, taking the boy’s feet out from under him, put him on his ass and then rolled him back onto his shoulders, Wilson between the boys legs, his cock pressing right into the boy’s crack. Looking him straight in the eye, Wilson said, “Now you’ve got my attention.” The boy was breathless, flustered -- delighted. “My apartment is right upstairs,” he said. ********************************************************* They were making out before they got in the front door. Roddy was an amazing kisser -- passionate, hungry -- their connection had the desperate electricity of teen-aged horniness, randy and rowdy, but with the skill and ability of men far more experienced. For someone so young, Roddy knew a lot about giving pleasure -- and he gave it his all. Hairless and smooth, an over-developed upper body with lean, cut legs (though a beautifully bubbled ass) the Italian Boy (with the Bambi lashes) had soft, pink, puffy nipples, perfect for sucking. And it soon became apparent that Wilson’s beard gave the boy as much stimulation as his mouth had. The boy went absolutely crazy when Wilson ate out his pink, hairless hole -- it tasted fresh and clean. “Fuck me,” the boy begged. “Please fuck me!” Wilson’s dick -- now almost as much a shower as it was a grower -- was happy to oblige. The boy was able to take it -- after a little bit of work -- and they found a common rhythm in no time. They fucked for hours. ********************************************************* It turned out, Roddy WAS a dumbass, but he was so ridiculously sincere (and good looking) that Wilson was willing to put up with him for a while post-coitus. And the sex had been off the charts! He owed the boy something. “I like living here,” the muscleboy was saying as he snuggled against Wilson’s big pec. “It’s easy. All I gotta do is find the gym and I’m home!” “Do you get lost a lot?” Wilson teased, tracing a finger down the boy’s massive bicep. The boy’s smile faltered for a moment, like he was actually concerned about something, then the grin came back. “Not that often,” Roddy said, sincerely. “And my phone tells me, anyway. I just say, ‘City Gym’ into it and it takes me home -- it’s real easy.” He giggled. “Just like me!” Wilson laughed, too -- this kid couldn’t possibly be for real. “You make enough dancing to afford a two-bedroom apartment in this neighborhood?” “I used to have a roomate,” Roddy said. “He moved out -- I think he married some rich daddy.” “Is that the goal?” Wilson asked. “To marry some rich daddy?” “Not mine,” giggled Roddy, sliding on top of Wilson. “I’m not done being young.” With that, he licked his way down Wilson’s torso, following the grooves in Wilson’s abs, and took Wilson’s big cock in his mouth -- it was little work before the old man was ready to fuck again. ********************************************************* Wilson hadn’t realized he’d been at the gym all day until he glanced outside and saw the sun setting. He’d intended to come in and catch a little pump before heading over to Jonas’ house in Malibu, but it felt so good -- and his pump was so incredible -- he just kept going. Seeing the sun setting outside surprised him -- and even scared him a little. That meant he’d been in the gym for over ten hours -- and he wasn’t even tired. Just pumped. And ready. He drove to Jonas’ in his sweaty gym clothes and dirty jockstrap, his cock full and eager. He’d never in his life looked as good as he did right now and it was incomprehensible to him that he might get better. How? He was better built (and better looking) than Jonas -- and Jonas had gone through the cycle already. By the time he got to Jonas’ door, he was a kid at Christmas. Jonas’ reaction was everything Wilson wanted it to be, aghast and impressed -- Jonas’ cock immediately got hard. Wilson pulled off his shirt and started to flex, his 28” core rock solid and tight, at odds with his 53” chest and even bigger shoulders. Looking at his legs, it seemed possible that each of his quads was the same size as his waist. How could he even move? When he hit a double bi, Jonas fell on him and began worshipping. They didn’t make it out onto the patio until nearly midnight. ********************************************************* “Well, here we are,” Jonas said, “the fourth treatment. The Boy Bag!” Wilson laughed. “The what?” “The Boy Bag,” Jonas said, holding it up by the corner and shaking it. “The Fountain of Youth.” “Oh,” Wilson said, forcing a chuckle. “I get it.” “You think the other treatments have had an effect,” Jonas said, setting up Wilson’s IV, “wait’ll you get a load of this!” As usual, Wilson was mesmerized by the flow of the liquid into his bloodstream. After a minute or two, he asked, “What’s this one gonna do? I mean, dude, I’m already as big as you…” Jonas laughed quietly. “True, you’re as big as me -- bigger! And your cock is bigger than mine, too. Ok? You gotta trust me, Wilson. I’ve gone through this a few times.” Wilson was confused. “‘A few times’? What do you mean by…?” As he spoke, his hand twitched slightly -- he looked at it -- then it twitched again. “What’s going on?” Wilson asked. “Nothing bad,” Jonas said. “Don’t worry.” He sat down on the chair next to Wilson’s lounger. “Each treatment has focused on a different aspect of your rejuvenation, right? The first one regenerated your internal organs and hormonal systems, the second dealt with the removal of visceral body-fat and unwanted body-hair, the third took care of the skin, the regrowth of muscle and repopulation of hair follicles. This last one regenerates your nervous system -- you’ll find you’re going to be insanely sensitive.” Wilson’s other hand twitched -- the arm with the IV. Jonas motioned to it. “That’s gonna keep up while your nerves go through their thing. Best if I secure you while you got the IV in you. That cool?” Wilson’s feet began to move on their own -- it was like his limbs had the hiccups -- it was freaking him out a little. “Yeah,” he said, nervously. “Okay.” Jonas fetched heavy velcro straps from a cabinet nearby. Wilson watched his own limbs lay there lifeless, twitching like electric jolts were hitting him. Part of him wanted to get up, pull the IV out and run, but he wasn’t able to control his body. Now he was seriously getting scared -- whether he trusted Jonas or not. Jonas wrapped a strap around each of Wilson’s wrists, securing them to the arms of the lounge chair, then did the same to Wilson’s feet. Lastly, he took a very big strap and wrapped it around Wilson’s torso, velcroing him to the back of the lounge. The IV dripped away -- half-empty. “That’s better,” Jonas said, taking his seat again. “Now you won’t hurt yourself. How do you feel?” Wilson smiled nervously. “Scared,” he said. “I’d rather have the nausea.” Jonas snorted. “This is only tough for a minute, WAY better than the explosive shit on the first night!” They laughed together for a second, remembering. “I guess I should calm down,” Wilson said, even as his hands began twitching in earnest. “I mean, you’ve gone through this.” Jonas looked confused for a second, then shook his head. “Well... no,” he said. “Personally, I never did the whole cycle. I stopped at the third dose.” “What do you mean, stopped? Why? I thought you’d done this!” Jonas shook his head -- he seemed thoughtful. “No,” he said quietly. “See, the fourth treatment… regenerates the nervous system… and with it, the brain.” “So?” “So, it’s the nature of the formula to regenerate the organ -- make it new. So it tends to… wipe out a lot of what existed before. That’s why I didn’t want to do it -- I needed my mind intact.” He consoled. “Look, some stuff comes through okay, language skills.. Mostly. Intellectually, you end up on a third or fourth grade level. Some memory, not a lot. Interestingly, physical skills tend to remain -- like, you’ll remember how to work out, though you won’t really have to. You’ll be great at sports, dancing, any proprioceptive activity. And you’ll be amazing at sex…” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Wilson yelled, trying to fight the restraints -- trying to control anything having to do with his body. His beautiful body -- the body that was betraying him. “Make this fucking stop, man…!” His torso began to twitch and move as nerves reset and came to life. The bag was nearly empty. Jonas tapped it with his finger. “The Boy Bag,” he said. “That’s what I call it -- you’ll see. When we’re done, you’re gonna be a beautiful boy. My best one yet!” Wilson was starting to twitch hard -- Jonas sat on the edge of the lounge and held Wilson’s shoulders, securing him and looking in his eyes. “You’ve already fucked Roddy,” Jonas said. “He was one of my first -- and we’ve really improved the formula quite a bit since then.” “Roddy?” Wilson asked. “Hot Roddy? The boy?” Jonas laughed slyly. “That ‘boy’ is only nine years younger than you. Last year, when he was old man Rodney, he was a fat, fucking loser looking to have a heart attack. Now as Hot Roddy, he’s just about perfect. You will be, too. You should be happy, Willy. You’re the oldest test case we’ve processed so far and you’re exceeding our expectations by margins that you wouldn’t believe. Very promising -- I’m excited to get through this.” “Those boys?” Wilson asked, having difficulty forming his thoughts. “Those boys are all…?” “Old men,” Jonas said. “Just like you. And by this time tomorrow, you’ll be just like them: a dim-witted but friendly whore who’s made a contribution to science. Thank you, Willy. You’re gonna make me a lot of money.” “No,” Wilson cried, unable to fight. “I don’t… want this…” Jonas laughed gently and kissed Wilson on the forehead. He stood up and watched as the last few drops dripped out of the IV bag. “Everybody gets what they want,” Jonas said, pretending to focus on the liquid. “You get eternal youth, a freakish cock, and I get another muscle guy in my stable -- a big, dominant top at that. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you, Willy. I promise you’ll be happy.” “Fucker!” Wilson barked. “Lying fuck!” “I never lied to you,” Jonas said, disconnecting the IV from Wilson’s arm. “And I’ll be honest with you now -- this transition isn’t gonna be so pleasant. The good news is, you won’t remember it, so just… bear with it as best you can. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Jonas went back into the house, leaving Wilson strapped to the lounge chair on the deck overlooking the ocean. He thought about screaming, but thinking suddenly seemed to cause him pain. Everything caused him pain. White pain. Blinding, white pain behind his eyes, obscuring his vision. It fried and reconnected every nerve ending throughout his entire body -- it swelled and bloomed and revealed onion-like layers of agony until he felt his head would explode. His body arched in the chair as his spinal cord conducted the lightning that completely fried him. By the time it ended, he was already unconscious -- and time wasn’t a concept anymore. ********************************************************* Hot Roddy came out of the locker room wearing only a wrestling singlet under a baggy t-shirt, his magnificent ass showcased in the spandex, so tight the thong Roddy wore was obvious beneath the material. Roddy did love to dress the part. He’d gotten a text from Jonas to meet him at the gym. Roddy knew where the gym was, right downstairs! And Roddy would do anything Jonas told him to do -- deep inside, Roddy knew Jonas had somehow made Roddy hot. And sexy. And a go-go dancer! And Roddy was super-grateful! So if Jonas wanted Roddy to meet him at the gym, well, that was right downstairs! Roddy was stretching on the mat when Jonas walked in, followed by the most beautiful muscle boy Roddy had ever seen. A tall guy with bright orange hair -- the sides shaved down to a tight buzz leaving the top long, sweeping -- and a full, brown beard. (He was lucky to have so full a beard at such a young age — it made him look more grown-uppy. Besides, Roddy thought beards were super-sexy, especially the way they felt on his hairless hole!) The beard was meticulously groomed and oiled, as perfect as the guy’s eyebrows and haircut. He was insanely muscular, way bigger than any other guy in the gym -- he wore these cotton/spandex stretch jeans that hugged his legs like tights, showing off the mass of his quads, cuffed just below his over-sized calves, ankle-high boots. But the real sight was his package, massive and surreal, a porn-fantasy given life. He wore a scoop-neck long-sleeve t-shirt on top that would’ve exposed his whole deep cleavage but for the length of his beard. The bottom of the tee just barely covered the top of his package, hinting… hinting... The guy caught Roddy looking and smiled, the light catching his beautiful green eyes and beginning to dance. Obviously, he liked to be looked at. “Hot Roddy!” Jonas said, suddenly in Roddy’s face, hugging him. Roddy hugged Jonas back, but continued to look at the big redhead. “Hi, Jonas,” he said, smiling. “Who’s your friend?” “Roddy! I’ve solved your roommate problem! This is Willy -- he’s looking for a place to live!” “It’s Big Willy,” mumbled the big red-headed hunk to Jonas. “You said I get to be called Big Willy!” Proudly, he looked at Roddy and said, “It’s a joke, cuz my dick is so big!” Roddy looked. “It sure is,” he said, smiling. Willy leaned in, conspiratorially. “It’s a shower AND a grower,” he said, grabbing it with his big hand. Roddy said, already getting an erection, “I live right upstairs.” A smile broke out on Willy’s face. “You live at the gym?” he asked. “For reals? Man, I would love to live at the gym!” Roddy laughed. “It’s super-easy! And if you get lost, you just say, ‘where’s the gym?’ and you find your way back every time! It’s great!” They laughed together, giggling like school girls. “You wanna see the apartment?” Roddy asked, with a teasing tone. “Yeah, I do,” Willy said, reaching up under his shirt and stroking his hard core. “I’d love to live at the gym.” Roddy turned to Jonas. “Jonas, can we go see it?” Willy laughed, clapping Jonas on the shoulder. “Jonas said I’m gonna make movies!” Willy announced. “I’m gonna make show-off movies and sexy-flexy videos and pose in front of guys for money. If I live at the gym, I can be pumped all the time! Can I, Jonas? Can I live at the gym, Jonas? Can I live with Roddy and be ready to flex all the time?” Jonas smiled. “Of course you can, big boy. Live wherever you want — I want you to be happy! Roddy, take him upstairs and show him your place.” “Okay!” beamed Roddy, grabbing Willy’s hand and fairly skipping out to the elevator. “C’mon!” They left together, laughing. Jonas watched them go -- he smiled. Turning to one of the old men entering the locker room, Jonas followed him, saying, “Hey, hot daddy… woof...” The old guy smiled back. Jonas had him hooked before he jerked the guy off in the sauna -- this one was gonna work out even better.
  14. Ro20316

    A gift to remember

    A great one shot with so much room to grow as the character 😙
  15. Ro20316

    Journey with Journals - Part 4 Added

    he is now handling th book better. Ge will make big things happen
  16. Ro20316

    Oh Henry (New Story)

    A good starting point!lets se what's next!
  17. Nwflbostonian

    Oh Henry (New Story)

    Completely intriguing. I love this setup and I hope not to have to wait long for the next installment. You're a great writer!
  18. Thespispunk88

    Gaymers!

    Unsure if I have posted here before. PSN: jtbradshaw88 Switch: (tba) KIK: Thespispunk88
  19. Last week
  20. Rockmelon

    Gaymers!

    PSN: Gowgks25 KIK: Rockmelon20
  21. muskymuscle

    Journey with Journals - Part 4 Added

    Part 4 Here's the fourth part of the story. This time you'll find out what happens to Al. Hint: There's a lot of muscle growth and a dash of macro. I hope you enjoy! Keep leaving me comments, I love hearing what you think! Also, the ending seems kind of final, but don't worry, I have more planned. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When I return to the living room I see that Al is still diligently cleaning up the mess from the party. I halfheartedly begin picking things up as well. I slowly begin moving closer towards Al, one piece of trash at a time. My grabby tendencies are beginning to flare up from all the drinks I've had but luckily, my plan involves a lot of touching. Al is kneeling down wiping up a stain when I finally reach him. I lean down and pretend that I'm wiping away some dust off of his shoulders. Al stiffens up slightly but doesn't seem to notice that this is a thinly veiled excuse for me to touch him. "Al, you're so stiff. Your muscles are all bunched up. Let me give you a little massage to relieve some tension." I don't wait for his response. I dig my thumbs into his traps and I hear Al exhale sharply. I pause for a second to see how Al reacts, but after a few seconds of him sitting still, I continued. I slowly massage Al's muscles, working from his traps to his shoulders. "You're pretty built you know?" I whisper to Al. "I'm nothing special. Maybe a bit above average, but that's it." Al says back. "I'm serious. I can basically feel you growing bigger." I replied, grinning. Al kept silent, not realizing that I was being more truthful than flirtatious. I glanced down at Al and watched as his semi-loose shirt slowly began to fill out. I moved from his shoulders to his back and began kneading his muscles with the palms of my hands. Al seems to be oblivious as his muscles continue to grow. "You're back is so wide. I'm surprised you can fit into a shirt this small with lats this big." Al's back widens faster as I verbally admire him. The rest of his muscles grow slower, but at a steady fixed rate. How long will it be until he starts to notice? Once I'm done with his back I start shifting my hands down further towards his lower half. As my hand caresses Al's growing bubble butt, he suddenly stands up and faces me. The growth stops as soon as I stop touching him. "Wait!" Al has a conflicted look on his face. Did I take things too far? Am I going too fast for him? "Could you..." He pauses before staring me in the eyes. "Could you massage me from the front first?" I laugh, the sudden stress instantly releasing from me. I guess Al's enjoying this more than I expected. "Of course. Do you want to do this standing or on your back?" I ask. "Standing is fine." Al replies. I stand up straight and admire Al's new mass before I start on his chest. His shirt is getting a tad tight for him. I take a step closer to him and place my hands on his pecs. Al begins to slowly grow once more. "You're pecs are huge! I don't think 'a bit above average' even comes close." I say. I can feel his chest slowly pushing against my hands as he grows bigger. Al looks down to where I'm massaging him. "I guess they do look a bit bigger today." I can hear the confidence growing within him. As I begin working my way to his biceps, I hear Al grunt in discomfort. Al's shirt now looks like it's several sizes too small for him. The fabric stretches tightly across his chest and is riding up his stomach to just below his bellybutton, revealing a trail of hair leading to his crotch. "My shirt feels really tight for some reason. I swear I just bought it. Damn cheap materials shrinking in the wash." Somehow, Al still hasn't noticed his growth. I had added probably over 40 pounds of muscle and I wasn't even halfway done yet. I grip each of Al's biceps with my hands and tell him to flex them. He complies and I feel the hard muscle forming as he performs a double bicep flex. His biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt to it's limits. Veins begin to pop up from his now paper thin skin. "Holy shit. You're biceps barely fit into your shirt. If you were any bigger they'd-" Just then, with an audible ripping sound, the seams of Al's shirt began to tear. Al froze for a second before he began smiling. "Woah, that's a first. I guess I really am getting big." Al said, his voice a bit deeper than it was a minute ago. He's also grown several days worth of stubble in the past few minutes making his already grown goatee look even thicker. He finally looked down at himself and gasped. "What the hell? I'm huge!" He looks at me with a confused face. Even though he's confused, I can tell from the growing bulge in his pants that he's excited by his new body. "Took you long enough to notice! You'll be more than huge once I'm done with you." I say laying my hands on him once more. As Al struggles to comprehend what's happening to him, he begins to moan. The muscle growth has begun to act as a catalyst for pleasure. Al flexes his biceps and chest harder than before and shreds the remains of his shirt. The material flutters to the ground, leaving Al bare chested. Al's exposed chest is a sight to behold. His chest, now as vascular as a pro bodybuilder's, is littered with bulging veins. His abs look as if they were carved from cobblestone, with six thick and perfectly symmetrical muscles. I can't help but stare at my creation. Al even seems to be a few inches taller. I work on his legs next. Al shimmies his pants off first, only leaving him in a pair of short black boxer-briefs. Without his pants, his bulge freely points forward. From the bulge, I can tell that Al is well endowed, easily 8 inches or more. A small wet spot has formed at the tip of his dick. Each of his legs has already become thicker than both of my legs combined, but I continue to grow him. When he flexes his tree trunk legs, the striation of each individual muscle can be made out. I caress his giant thighs and begin working my way behind him to his ass once more. "Fuck yeah! Make me bigger! Grow me more!" Al growled at me. He's taking this a lot better than I was expecting. I begin groping his meaty ass, watching as his boxer-briefs begin to strain from the mass within it. Once I finally finish working on his legs, Al bellows a deep guttural groan. "I can't take it anymore! I need release!" Al faces me again and with a single hand rips off what now looks like a painted on pair of underwear. His cock, now free from any and all confines, points upwards at an angle. Every few seconds it twitches, releasing a copious amount of precum. A thick bush of hair covers the base of his cock. I look up at Al. He's now over 350 pounds of muscle and stands nearly a foot taller than me at 6'10". His beard has fully developed and is an inch in length. Al grabs hold of his cock and looks at me expectingly. I lick my lips in anticipation and lower my head towards his throbbing cock. "No! I want more than that." Al stops me before I can reach him. "You don't mean-" "I do. Now strip for me!" Al says. It doesn't sound like it's up for discussion. Luckily, big guys turn me on. As I'm undressing, I can feel the lust in Al's eyes as he watches. Once I'm completely naked, Al lifts me up and tosses me over his shoulder with ease. He carries me to his bedroom and drops me on his bed. "Get on your stomach." Al orders me. "Wait, what about condoms?" I ask. "Ugh fuck! Fine, I'll grab one." Al says. He walks over to his bedside counter and grabs a box of magnum sized condoms. He rips open one of the packages and slides it over his cock. "Are you happy now?" I answer by flipping over and raising my ass. I'm not usually a bottom, but I think I'll let this be an exception. Al climbs onto the bed behind me and positions his cock with my hole. Without any more delays, Al thrusts his cock into my ass. I yell out in pain and pleasure. His cock is thicker than I was ready for. Al pushes deep into me, eventually ramming his cock head into my prostate, sending a wave of euphoria over me. My cock instantly gets rock hard and sprays a small amount of cum. I turn my head to look at Al as he fucks me. He's barely paying attention to me. Instead, he seems to be getting off on his own muscles. With each thrust, Al flexes another muscle. "God dammit Al, you're so big! You're muscles are making me so hard. And your cock- your cock is filling me up so much." Shit, I shouldn't have said that out loud. Al suddenly stops flexing and begins grunting. His muscles begin tensing all together. I can feel his cock pulsing inside me. Al lets out a scream and he starts to grow even more. In a single growth spurt, he gains 50 pounds of muscle. At the same time, I feel his cock begin to grow. Even though Al has already taken a few inches of his cock out of me I can feel my prostate being pushed up against once more. He must have grown at least 4 inches. Al screams one last time as I feel his balls retracting just before he blows his load. Watching and hearing him grow sends me off the edge and I cum without touching myself once. After he calms down, Al slowly removes his cock from my ass, careful not to make me prolapse with his newly gigantic cock. Once he's out of me, I feel somewhat hollowed by the lack of pressure within me. I watch Al remove his condom. It only fits halfway over his now 12 inch cock and is filled with his seed. "I can't let all this protein go to waste now can I?" Al says as he puts the edge of the condom to his lips and begins drinking his own cum. Looking at Al now, he was barely recognizable from just an hour ago. Before he was 5'7" and maybe just over 200 pounds, now he was over 7' tall and easily broke 400 pounds, not to mention his gargantuan cock. With just a few words in his journal, I helped transform Al into a massive muscle beast. "Is this real?" Al asked me after finishing his cum filled drink. "Very." I answer. "Then I'll let it be at that. I don't care how it happened, I just care that it did." He said matter-of-factly. His confidence seems to be another thing that has gotten a boost as well. Al looked at his closet and realized he'd never fit into any of his clothes. "Well, shit. How am I going to go out in public now?". I laugh, and tell him that I'd help him out. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's been a few week since Al's transformation. After the initial growth, I went out the next day to order some custom sized clothing for him. We kept in contact by text but we haven't really seen each other much since. Al told me that when he's asked about his sudden growth, he just says he was a late bloomer. Every now and then I see Al looking intimidating as hell at the front of the club I first met him at. He's become the biggest bouncer in town. For now we keep our distance, but maybe I'll help him grow again one day.
  22. Telster13

    Oh Henry (New Story)

    New writer here... had an idea for a story and figured I might as well take a stab at it. This is just the beginning so not a ton of muscle growth yet, but don't worry, it's coming! All feedback is welcome and appreciated OH HENRY - PART 1 Henry’s meaty hand grabbed the blender container off its base, swishing its contents around to make sure they’re thoroughly liquified. Taking the lid off, he took his first chug of the mixture - a thick shake of boiled chicken breast, milk and bodybuilding supplements. Blender container in hand, he walked to his calendar on the wall, hung between a photo of his beloved grandmother and one of his parents. With the pen hanging from a string on the calendar, he placed a giant black ‘X’ on today’s date, August 19th. His brown eyes looked intensely at the following day, August 20th, which was circled in red with thick permanent marker. Henry took another swig of the protein mixture, filling his muscular stomach that strained against the confines of his white tank top. Tomorrow would be the day he would rejoin the rest of the world. Tomorrow would be his fresh start. — Henry’s parents passed away when he was only eleven years old. As Canadian oil magnates, they died in a car crash on a business trip to Kuwait, leaving him with his grandmother who nurtured him through his troublesome school years. Even her love and care, however, could not get him through these teenage years unscarred. Henry was your stereotypical gay teenager - lithe, 5’ 7” and 110 pounds soaking wet, he excelled in school, loved musical theatre and sucked at sports. At Mackenzie High School, he stuck out like a sore thumb and was bullied non-stop for it. At school, most of Henry’s time outside of class was spent either in choir practise or in a locker or dumpster that a bully had thrown him in. At home, he would spend time gardening and cooking with his grandmother, and at night, just like an gay teenager, released his pent up sexual energy by jerking off to fitness models on Instagram. Coming home to his grandmother gave him comfort that everything would be okay. While school life was hard, he was a gentle soul and found comfort in the fact that one day high school would be over and the real world wouldn’t be so bad. Henry’s life changed in his senior year when one day he received a call to come down to the principal’s office. His grandmother had had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital but hadn’t made it through. Just like that, his only remaining family and support network had disappeared, leaving him alone in the world. Her funeral was the worst day of his life, as Henry had grown to know and love his grandmother more than his parents. In the days that followed, he met with his grandmother’s lawyer to work through the will. In it, she had left him everything she had - the house, a massive trust fund with more money than he could imagine and a handwritten note. “Oh Henry, you know I love you more than words can say. When the time comes for you to read this, let this be what you need to start fresh in the world. Love, your grandmother.” Tears slipped down Henry’s face as it struck him, for the last and final time, that he would never see his grandmother again. This would be the inspiration that would change his life forever. — Henry finished off that senior year of high school, gaining acceptance to some of the best business schools in the country, including his dream school, Harrison University. It had a gorgeous campus and was in a college town halfway across the country. It was the perfect place for a fresh start. Beyond a new school and new city, Henry was determined to give himself the best chance of success at his new school and new life. That meant shedding his status as the high school runt. Alone and with no one to stick up for him, he refused to enter university as the 5’7”, 110 pound weakling he was today. Moreover, as a gay virgin coming out of high school, he hoped a physical transformation might give him a new sexual lease on life. As an 18-year old now on his own, he decided he would defer his spot at Harrison University until next year, when he could come back as a new man. Until then, he would lock himself in his house and focus on this physical transformation. Henry scoured the internet, looking for trainer who could take him on. It was on a local bodybuilding forum that he found Brandon Brown, a former army sergeant turned heavyweight bodybuilder. Standing 6’2” and 275lbs, Brandon was a black Hercules with the mass and muscle definition only seen in ancient Greek statues. His body was a showcase of excellence in the gym and in the kitchen and could make any gay man’s cock stand at attention. Henry shot him an email, and within days, Brandon had set up a full gym in the basement of his grandmother’s house, stocked his fridge with food and cabinet with supplements and started Henry on daily workout plan. Brandon was fascinated by his client’s dedication to growth (and his resources to support it) and quickly recognized that this could be a transformation for his record books. — Henry chugged the last of his shake and placed the empty blender container on the counter. He heard the toilet flush in his washroom and turned to see Brandon emerge, zipping up the fly on his tight jean shorts which hugged his tree trunk legs. “Didn’t leave me any?” Brandon asked, placing his hand on Henry’s shoulder, still pumped from their workout just now. “I’ve got one day left! I need all the protein I can get” Henry objected. “Want me to make you another one?” “No worries Henry, I’m just teasing you,” Brandon said with big smile. “Tomorrow we get to show you the fruits of all your hard work. I hope you’re excited. I’ll see you in the morning” And with that, Brandon let himself out and Henry jumped in the shower to wash off all the sweat from his training session. His fingers lingered over his body, feeling the pump in his pecs and shoulders from the gruelling workout with Brandon. While he could see and feel that his body had grown, he had no clue how he truly looked. At the beginning of his transformation, 427 days ago, Henry had all the mirrors removed from his house. He knew change would take time and didn’t want to get discouraged by slow progress. As he slipped into his pyjamas and crawled into bed, his mind agonized over what kind of transformation (or lack thereof) he might have gone through in the last year and what waited for him in the outside world.
  23. ravenweremuscle

    Incredible Hulk

    Ugh, I can't watch these in my country it says.
  24. archie

    Incredible Hulk

    The popping buttons at 1.00!
  25. Thanks for the follow. 

  26. thorntons1911

    LOOKING FOR CHARLES REEZA

    He’s on tumblr - charlesreeza.tumblr.com
  27. dredlifter

    Big Boys and Their Toys - Part Four

    These are awesome! ...although I'm having a love-hate feeling right now. I love the characters and the BIG men that have been introduced, but hate that the real action hasn't started yet, haha! But, now that the introductions are done, I expect the real good stuff to commence. I hope we find out just how BIG these mature muscle men are. Great work! Always love your stories.
  28. Lukullus

    Big Boys and Their Toys - Part Four

    OMG, how much I LOVE your stories, londonboy!
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