Jump to content

Leaderboard


Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation since 06/20/18 in all areas

  1. 34 points
    Before we begin, I have a couple notes: First, this story was inspired by this post from SuperWaffle over on tumblr. Second, I wrote this over on my blogger, and in transferring it here some of the formatting and whatnot was lost. For a slightly prettier looking version of this story, read it here. With that out of the way, read on and enjoy! Freak Find at the Flea Market Jonathan Riley wandered the narrow pathways between booths and tables, not really looking at the goods that were on display. The gymnasium of the local community centre was currently home to a flea market, and Jon had been planning to meet up with some friends there for a low-key way to pass some time on a boring summer weekend, but at the very last minute they all had to pull out. Jon had already been almost there when he got the texts so he figured he may as well poke around a bit on his own, but it just wasn't fun without his friends there to goof off with. On the verge of calling it quits, Jon looked up from his aimless wandering to find he'd walked into someone's "shop". It was just a couple tables of knick-knacks and a clothing rack, placed together under a collapsible canopy. The owner didn't seem to be present. Jon turned to leave, but his eyes fell on a shirt hanging on the rack and he froze. Slowly he reached out and removed the hanger from the rack. The shirt was a white muscle tee, the kind that had a neckline like an ordinary tee shirt, but no sleeves, and armholes that dipped down low to reveal the wearer's entire side. Written in an arc across the chest in bold block letters, like those found on the backs of varsity jackets, was the word FREAK. Beneath that, in the same font but large enough to take up the rest of the front, was the number 8. "Find what you're looking for?" Jon almost jumped straight through the canopy. He turned to see the man who must be the stall's owner. How had he not noticed him return? "Um, y-yeah," stammered Jon. "I mean, I think so? I don't really know..." The man looked at the tank in Jon's hands and smiled. "Oh yes, I think those are exactly what you want, young man." "Those?" Jon was confused. He just had the one item. Still smiling, the man simply reached in through the tee's armhole and fished something out. Hanging by its waistband, but hidden inside the shirt, was a plain white jockstrap. Well, maybe not "plain". Jon suddenly felt himself blushing. The pouch on the thing was huge! He didn't know why, but he wanted these clothes desperately. Needed them. He turned them over and over in his hands. "Um, there's no price on them," Jon said. If anything, the man smiled wider than ever. "Tell ya what. Nobody else has so much as looked at those things," he said. "There's no way I'll be able to sell 'em. Why don't you just go ahead and take 'em." Jon excitedly agreed, then quickly made his way to the exit. He desperately wanted to try the clothes on. As he neared the gymnasium doors, he realized that he should have at least thanked the man for the gift and turned back. He could see the man's stall from where he was, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Well, he couldn't have gone far. Shouldn't be too hard to find him again. Except... Jon frowned. For some reason, he couldn't remember what the man looked like. At all. That was weird. But then, Jon had been very focused on the tank and jock while talking to the man. That's right, the tank and jock... He should hurry home to try them on... ***** Standing in his room, stripped to his undies in front of his full-length mirror, Jonathan stared at his body and suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Weighing a mere 150 pounds while standing at 6'5", he was a very skinny guy, no two ways about it. He was normally okay with that, but for some reason he now felt... inadequate. Despite his skinniness, Jon was not unattractive. His skin was smooth and clear, he had a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes were piercing blue and his hair was full and thick. And yet... Jon took a deep breath and could see every one of his ribs. The bones at his elbows, shoulders, and knees were easily made out beneath his skin. His boxer-briefs should have clung to his thighs but were almost loose enough to just be boxers. His manhood was fairly average he knew but without the bulk of thighs to push it forward the front pouch of his boxer-briefs seemed almost empty. It wasn't like he'd never tried to bulk up. He'd gone to a gym for a while, but it hadn't seemed to help at all, and he'd been self-conscious the entire time. But he'd played basketball all through junior high and high school. His height had made him a shoe-in. Of course, that height also accentuated his slimness. Jon glanced over his shoulder at the muscle tee and jockstrap that were laid out on his bed. Why had he wanted them so badly? They didn't suit him at all. This day has been so weird. He sighed, picked up the tee, and went back to his mirror. May as well just try it on... In spite of his misgivings, the tee didn't actually look that ridiculous on him. Oh, he'd never wear it out and about, but it would be fine for just laying around the house, playing video games... Jon smiled. He hadn't gotten in his head like that for a long time, but he was through it now. As if to fully banish the negative thoughts, Jon struck up an ironic double biceps pose and winked at his reflection. He chuckled to himself and began to turn away, but stopped and looked back at the mirror. Slowly he brought his right arm back up and flexed again. There was some clear definition there, a nice little bump of a bicep. Some weird trick of the light even made it seem like Jon's arm was growing right in front of his eyes. Jon brought his other hand up to feel, and was shocked to find his arm was definitely thicker! Where he could normally almost close his hand around his upper arm, there was now more than an inch between his fingers and thumb. And the gap was widening! He stepped closer to the mirror and struck up another double biceps pose, watched for a moment as his arms thickened slowly but steadily. Not just his biceps, either, his forearms seemed to be inflating too! Jon dropped the pose to look down at the rest of his body, which had been keeping pace while he was enraptured with his arms. His knobbly knees had once been the widest parts of his legs, but now his calves made them look narrow, and this thighs absolutely dwarfed them! The once-loose legs of his boxer-briefs were now tight and pushed up by his growing quads, which were showing deeper and deeper definition between the individual muscles. The muscle tee was becoming tight now, and Jon looked back at his reflection to get the full view. Wait, was the mirror shorter than before, or... No way. Jon was growing taller, too! This had to be some kind of dream, right? When he got back from the flea market he'd probably laid down on his bed and dozed off. That had to be it. But, as long as he was dreaming, he might as well enjoy it, right? Over top of the tee, Jon ran his hands across his abs, feeling the rippling sheets of muscle. It felt like running his hands over corrugated steel. His hands rose higher to cup the heavy weight of his new, swollen pecs. Jon desperately wanted to see his muscles unobscured by the shirt, but he didn't dare remove it. This miraculous growth must have been caused by the shirt somehow. What if taking it off stopped the growth? As he marvelled at his ever expanding form, Jon realized he wasn't just packing on muscle. His skeleton had to be changing too. There was the obvious case of his greater height—he seemed to have settled at about seven feet tall!—but his hands and feet seem to have increased as well, proportionally with his height. Distinctly out of proportion, though, were his shoulders. While originally they'd been only slightly wider than his waist, they were now on their way to being twice as wide! His new bulging delts couldn't account for that width on their own. The muscle tee, once baggy, was now straining across Jon's massive, heaving chest, and was approaching skin-tight on his growing, but still relatively narrower, trunk. The deep armholes reached Jon's waist, and he gaped at the fact that his lats almost filled them top-to-bottom. Giving his lats a flex made him look like he'd sprouted wings! The tightness of the tee was now becoming uncomfortable. Maybe this was big enough. Jon reached for the bottom of the shirt, but he couldn't find it. His fingers slid down over fabric that morphed seamlessly into the deep-v of his new Adonis belt. Jon started to panic. He had to get the shirt off! It was so tight now that he couldn't take a full breath! His fingers felt all around his hips, his shoulders, his neck, searching for the hem of the shirt but it just wasn't there. Jon gave up the search and stared at his still-swelling physique in the mirror with horror that still bordered on awe. Then the shirt itself began to change. A dark line formed down the centre of the numeral eight on his abdomen. Then two more lines, one across the upper circle and one across the lower. The muscle tee began to sink into the crevices between Jon's muscles, as though he were being vacuum sealed. The now eight sections of the number shifted slightly to take on the shape and position of the eight ripped abs beneath them. A deep cleft appeared between his massive pectorals. Even the smaller waves of his obliques and serratus muscles were filled in. When the shirt was literally skin-tight, a new change began. Starting at the bottom, the white material began to disappear, or maybe merge into the skin beneath. Either way, it was vanishing. The black remains of the numeral eight faded too, replaced by the deep gutters between Jon's abs. His nipples poked through like pencil-erasers. The fabric of the shirt receded up and up until the last of it vanished from the peaks of his traps. The transformation was over, but one thing was left behind. Across Jon's powerful chest was the word FREAK in bold black letters. Wonderingly, Jon brought his hand up to feel the letters. They felt just like his skin. He'd been tattooed. But as his hand ran over his mighty pecs, Jon couldn't help but admit that it was accurate. He was a freak now. He threw a crab pose, and the letter E was almost completely swallowed in the cleft of his chest. Jon was a glorious muscle freak. He turned around and looked over his shoulder to see his broad back in the mirror. It was every bit as impressive as the rest of him was now. There were only a few things that seemed to be missing... Facing the mirror again, Jon looked at the pouch of his underwear. It was much better filled out now that his tree trunk-like legs pushed all of his goods forward, but it was clear that whatever magic had given him his new body hadn't affected his junk at all. He stripped off his boxer-briefs and stood completely bare. His cock and balls had been decidedly average before, but that meant they'd seemed relatively large compared to his narrow frame. Now that he was built like a god, his dick seemed downright puny. And when he turned to check out his ass, it was clear that it had toned up considerably and grown a little, but it still seemed out of proportion with the rest of him. Why would the shirt ignore these two parts of him? A glimpse of white on his bed behind him caught his eye in the mirror. Of course! The jockstrap! Jon quickly grabbed it and returned to the mirror to don it. The straps stretched considerably going over his thick thighs, but the pouch was still fairly loose. Jon hoped that was about to change. Nothing seemed to be happening. Jon turned slightly to view his package from the side. Still no change. Maybe the jockstrap is just a jockstrap. A shame if true, but if nothing else the straps accentuated his ass, making it seem not quite so small, relative to the rest of him. Hold on... His ass actually was bigger. And still growing. The jockstrap worked just like the tee! Jon turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder. He reached both of his hands down and gripped one growing cheek in each, giving them a squeeze. His powerful fingers sank into the soft flesh, until he flexed his glutes and the hardening muscles forced the digits back out. Jon squeezed and flexed a few more times. Each time his fingers sank in with more difficulty, and were more easily pushed back out by his inflating ass cheeks. He would have continued, but his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. While Jon had been focused on his expanding ass, the jock pouch had been getting more and more crowded. Jon turned once more to face the mirror to get a full frontal on this new development. His manhood was now making three distinct bulges in the fabric, two egg-shaped lumps beneath a lengthening sausage. He watched, slack-jawed, and the bulges grew and grew, but a problem was becoming apparent. Just as the muscle tee had begun to compress his lungs when his upper body filled it completely, the jock pouch was beginning to compress Jon's growing goodies. The pressure on his cock and balls was merely uncomfortable for now, but if his plumbing continued to inflate it would soon become rather painful. Luckily, the pouch had reached its capacity and the next stage began. Just as the shirt had sunken into every nook and cranny of Jon's upper body, so too did the jockstrap begin to form around his dick and ballsack. The sight of his junk perfectly encompassed in the white fabric was surprisingly lewd. And it made the increased size of it very obvious. Though his softball sized nuts were held tight to his body by the clinging material, Jon's new python hung almost halfway to his knees. But it didn't hang for long. In a slow, pulsing manner, Jon's massive member began to harden, climbing higher as every beat of his heart sent a throb through its new length. The fabric of the jockstrap strained against this different kind of growth. As his erection reached maximum hardness, almost brushing the underside of his mammoth pecs, Jon felt a rush of warmth fill him and knew he was on the brink of shooting. He hadn't even touched his cock! Waves of pleasure were rocking through him, but he wasn't cumming yet. He looked down, past his colossal manhood, and saw the leg straps beginning to vanish into his skin, just as the tee had done earlier. He turned to see the waist strap disappearing above his shelf-like bubble butt, before facing the mirror head on again. The fabric over his package had begun to recede as well, beginning with his constricted scrotum. As the white material vanished, his giant balls fell heavily to the bottom of his freed sack. The diminishing fabric then began travelling up his shaft. This seemed to push Jon's orgasm right to the brink. The powerful muscles around his manhood began to pulse and flex, making his nuts rise and fall and his cock sway back and forth. Jon's pleasure climbed along with the fabric, and the flexing of his groin muscles intensified. His balls were practically vibrating against his taint now, and his dick was rebounding off of his abs with meaty thuds. The material reached the flaring flange of his cockhead. Jon was almost out of his mind with ecstasy. Finally, the fabric reached the wide piss-slit of Jon's spasming phallus and vanished completely. Jon's orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. His entire muscular body locked up except when a new wave pulsed through him, making his hips buck like a bronco. His cannon-sized cock fired off volley after volley of thick, pearly cum with such force that it was able to splatter against the ceiling. But the bucking of his body and the twitching of his dick meant that the creamy salvos hit many more targets. Thick ropes of cum burst against Jon's face, his pecs, his abs, and all over the mirror in front of him. What seemed like and hour later, the last few shots of spunk arced out onto his bedroom floor. Jon's entire body was quaking. His arm moved heavily to smear his jizz off of the mirror so that he could look at himself. His upped body was caked in his manly batter. Spunk obscured his new chest tattoo and filled his cleavage. Strings of semen hung off his nipples, and ran down the gutters of his abs. Residual cum poured from his cockhole and trickled down his shaft to drip from his low hanging balls. Jon just stood there, panting, for a moment. He still wasn't sure whether this had all been a dream or not, but if it was, he was sure he'd wake to find it had been a wet one! He was shaken out of his reverie by the sound of his phone vibrating a few times on his dresser, signalling a series of texts. He left a trail of cum drips on his way to read it. It was from his buddy Cliff. hey, it said, sorry I bailed on the flea market thing was probably lame without me, I know 😛 parents were being weird, needed to talk anyway I'm free now so we can hang, almost at your place find anything cool at the market? Jon didn't know what to do. How was he going to explain what had happened to him? Did he have enough time to clean up his musky mess? What could he wear? None of his clothes would fit him now. How was Cliff going to react?
  2. 31 points
    Hi, everyone! Sorry this part took so long. I was focusing on two other projects for a novel and a screenplay I've been working on for the past two weeks. This part may not be as slow-paced or edited as the last two parts, but I hope that you all still enjoy it. It's a bit longer than the last two parts just to make up for lost time. Froy won't be getting too much screen time, but he will have a lot more significance in later parts. If anyone has any comments, suggestions, or constructive criticism to help me edit or write better, no matter how subjective, I'm very open. Thanks! PART 3 “Sir, are you sure we should be doing this?” “Relax, Marcus isn’t coming in today.” “But sir, what about your boss?” I pointed at his office. “Wes? He asked me to do this.” I kept digging through Marcus’ desk, filing through his cabinets and small drawers, just to find that small damn box of tic-tacs. The original plan was to wait until Marcus came into work so I could ask him to give them to me, but clearly, waiting for Marcus was a pipe dream. I never realized how infrequently he came in to work before. Wes was still waiting for me to get him those pills Marcus gave him that night, and I didn’t want to keep the boss waiting. Froy accompanied me and joined me, like he always did, in scavenging through Marcus’ things, but neither of us found anything that even resembled a tic-tac. We did find one pill, but Froy told me it was just regular old viagra. I didn’t bother asking him how he knew that. I didn’t bother asking why there was viagra at Marcus’ desk either. I got up from the ground and wiped the sweat off my brow. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re here.” “Me too, sir. I could try calling him if it’s okay, sir?” “How do you have his number?” “He accidentally wrong-texted me a few days ago, and it sounded like he was inviting some girl named Lisa over to his condo for, um, ‘game night.’” “...So how did he get your number?” Marcus was honestly such a mystery. “Whatever, go. Ask him where he kept the pills. I’ll check online if I can find out where he’s been.” I took out my phone and opened up all his social media accounts. Maybe I would be able to find out where Marcus has been and what the hell he’s been doing. I was almost afraid to see if he grew again. The guy knew what got to me, and the fact that he was growing meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted to me because I would follow. He wasn’t wrong either. I was a sucker for muscle—a true muscle bitch, mind the language. His Facebook opened up, but it didn’t seem like there was anything new. All there was was a photo of him with his girlfriend Lisa two weeks ago at an Italian restaurant. He was still pretty small then. After finding nothing on his Twitter, LinkedIn, MySpace, Google+, Reddit, and Tumblr—yes, he had everything—I opened up his Instagram and finally found something. The most recent picture was a bathroom selfie of him with his girlfriend. Both of them were only wrapped in towels, but damn. Marcus had grown since we last met. Not by a crazy amount, but it was something. Everything was filled out more ever so slightly. He still looked how he did three days ago in his black shirt, but he was definitely at least an inch thicker all over. His pecs casted a shadow over his abs. The crevice in between them looked like they could hold a pen or two if he so much as flexed—maybe even break the pen. Not to mention his abs looking like someone stuffed stones under his skin. You could run your fingers through the crevices on his body as if he were the grand canyon. It was exhilarating. I couldn’t see his cock through the towel, but the outline proved its immensity, snaking down to his mid-thigh. He was gaining muscle faster than I would have ever guessed. Judging by his cocky raised eyebrow and wide grin expression, I could tell he was enjoying it too. His girlfriend looked like a troll standing next to this Greek statue. She was hot in her own right, but my eyes couldn’t get off Marcus. His disproportionate dorito-shaped torso was definitely something I’m sure most men envied, especially now with all the added muscle. Fuck, he was hot. I saved the picture on my phone for future reference. If Marcus kept growing, I was going to need some pictures to be able to compare a before and after, then maybe I could estimate just how much he could grow in a period of time. I doubted it was going to end up correct, but it was worth trying. It didn’t seem like Marcus’ growth wasn’t going to slow down any time soon anyway, and a part of me definitely did not want it to stop. That same part of me wanted to be a part of his growth. I wanted to see him grow. Behind me, I heard Froy sigh. “Hello?” I turned around and saw him on his phone. “Sir Marcus?” he asked. “Yes, sir, I just wanted to ask where you kept your, uh, tic-tacs, sir. ... Oh, okay. ... Okay, sir. ... I’ll tell him, sir. ... Thank you, sir. ... Oh, sorry… sir.” He put away his phone. “What did he tell you?” “To stop calling him ‘sir.’” “Besides that. Where are the tic-tacs?” “He said they weren’t here, sir. He said he brought them home with him.” “So, does he want us to come get them?” “No, sir. He said he would give them when he came in to work today.” I looked at Froy in confusion. “Huh? Why? He doesn’t have any work left to do, right?” Froy’s eyes darted side to side in search of what to say. He was just an intern. Expecting him to have an answer to my rhetorical question was just as likely as Marcus admitting he was gay. Before heading back to my desk, I wanted to see if Wes had learned his lesson. I quietly twisted the handle to his door, but it was locked. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t curious to see what he was doing. I wanted to know if he was still drinking his own cum. He might not notice it, for whatever reason, but it was still hot to think about. Especially considering how hot it would be to finally have a big boss who ruled over us—literally over us. Being tall just has a certain power associated with it. Back at my desk, Froy and I went through the usual daily paperwork. I normally hated doing it, but being with Froy made my work much more bearable than it should have been. He was undoubtedly as efficient as a regular employee, if not better, but he was still the same Froy—the same shy, awkward, unnecessarily attractive boy. I didn’t want our relationship to get stuck on work, so I decided to break the ice. “So how’s your mother?” I asked. His eyes lit up in surprise. “Oh, she’s fine, sir. She got discharged from the hospital yesterday, but we’re still working on paying for her bills.” He smiled at me. “Do you think you’re gonna end up working here when you graduate? The salary is definitely better as a full-time employee than an intern.” “I don’t know yet, sir. I’m still thinking about it.” I wasn’t sure if I was making any progress in getting him to accept me and open up. It was difficult to dig any deeper considering he didn’t talk much and never really spoke about his personal life besides his mother and brothers. The boy was a tough cookie. If he had any mental trauma or emotional disorders, I would never know. He could be a psychopath, but I’d probably still find him hot. But the argument still stands that I find most guys hot, so there’s that. When it was time for lunch, I let Froy off by himself to go buy some food. I finished up some documents and left to go route them myself around the office. By the time I got back, Froy still hadn’t returned. It was strange. I knew how early Froy liked to finish his food so he could get back, so him not being at my desk yet was unordinary. I sat myself down and began working on some more work by myself. I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for Froy to get back and do all my work for me like some companies I know and have been under. It went against my principles. Froy was going to learn and be trained well as long as he was under me. That would only happen if he respected me. No one respects a boss who dumps all his work on you. While I was lost in my work, a large hand landed on my shoulder out of nowhere. I turned around, expecting it to be Froy or Wes, but the man standing behind me was huge. He was as tall as Froy but as wide as Wes. Most of the office view was blocked out by his pelvis staring right in my face. I never even noticed his shadow around me as his body blocked out the light behind me. “Hey, bud.” I looked up, and for the second time, I was caught off-guard by his growth. It was Marcus. He looked like a morphed version of himself, wearing an extremely tight white polo in the same style as Wes’. If his arms struggled to fit in the sleeves of his black shirt before, they definitely wouldn’t fit now. They had almost doubled in size. His shoulders were as round as softballs, and his pecs were huge bloated slabs of meat almost as hefty as a woman’s tits with big, thick nipples begging to be sucked. Marcus’ neck was as thick as his head and that was something I found inexplicably sexy. Even with his new developments, he kept his disproportionate broadness and broadened his V-shape even further, bringing it closer and closer to a flat line. It was a miracle he still fit in his shirt. His upper arms were the size of actual footballs. It looked like the slightest inhale would tear off the buttons and cause his pecs to get exposed. He was undeniably bigger than his picture on Instagram. Marcus had grown even more. I looked down and saw that his usual black slacks were skintight, violently constricting his thick legs in the fabric. His package, staring right in my face, bulged as if he had stuck his entire fist in his underwear. Even further down, I saw that the hems of his pants didn’t even reach his ankles anymore. Just how big did he get? “What’s up?” he asked, grinning widely. I rolled my chair back and took in his entire body in my sight. He was huge. This was not the same fitness model-esque Marcus I knew last week. This was gym rat territory. Did he even go to the gym? At all? “Jesus Christ, Marcus!” He tilted his head and rubbed the back of his head, smirking at me as he flexed his bicep in his impossibly tight sleeve. “Jesus, Mary, Hallelujah to you too, Dory!” “What the fuck happened to you?!” “Oh,” he said, gesturing towards the rest of his body. “You mean this?” “No, the fucking Declaration of Independence—yes! This! What is... this!” He laughed, straining the buttons on his chest. “I guess I just grew a bit.” “‘A bit’ is an understatement. It’s only been three days since I last saw you, and now... this.” He walked up closer and leaned against my desk, almost pressing himself against me. “What, don’t you like it?” My heart pounded in my chest. “I, uh, I do, but—” “‘But’? What’s so bad about me having all this muscle?” “Nothing, Marcus. It… looks really good on you.” “‘Really good’?” “Yes.” “Really, really good?” “...Yes.” “Nice, that’s what I like to hear.” He got off my desk and stood back up, adjusting his undersized polo to accommodate his bulging muscles. Everything he did seemed to emphasize his new size—every bulge and curve. I pulled out my phone and stared at the shirtless picture of Marcus I took off Instagram. There was no comparison now. He had almost doubled in size. “Marcus, when’d you take this pic?” I showed him the selfie. He smirked. “I didn’t know you saved pics of me on your phone. How sweet.” I could feel my face turn red. “Please answer the question.” “It was, uh, two days ago.” “...You went from this to this in just two days?” “Yeah. It feels like I get bigger by the minute. It feels fucking amazing. I bet I could flex this arm, and it would grow.” He pulled up his right arm and stared in awe at his bicep with a glowing smile. The sleeve rolled up to his shoulder by itself. It didn’t even need to be pulled back. The sheer mass of his upper arm moved it alone. Marcus grunted, scrunching his nose. I could tell he was in love with himself. He grabbed his sleeve and pulled it back over his bicep, causing it to strain due to the extreme tightness—and yet, the sleeve couldn’t even make a dent in his bicep despite the constriction. “Watch.” He began flexing his arm, lowering it and raising his forearm, causing his bicep to peak and stretch. Every vein and striation pulsed with strength. He continued flexing, showing off his incredible mass to the entire office. As he got lost in his own size, I noticed something in his arm. It was small, but it was still noticeable. His entire arm seemed to inflate ever so slightly, causing his sleeve to begin tearing. Marcus sniggered seeing this. He continued flexing until his bicep grew big enough to tear his sleeve halfway open, leaving his bicep completely exposed. He laughed with wide eyes, grinning from cheek to cheek. The excitement on his face said everything. “Fuck, do you see this? Did you see that?!” he asked. I was speechless. “I really am growing by the second!” He continued flexing his arm and didn’t notice that his other arm had also begun to grow. As soon as the other sleeve tore open, his smile grew even bigger. He raised both arms and flexed, reveling in his new size. I was lost in my awe when I heard a shuffle behind Marcus. I didn’t know who it was. When Marcus finally noticed that there was someone standing behind him, he stepped aside and revealed it was Froy, staring at him with his mouth slightly ajar. Froy was frozen in place, just as mesmerized as I was. I didn’t even notice his lithe figure standing behind Marcus. “Oh, hey, Froy! I was wondering where Dory’s little puppy was.” “He’s not my puppy.” Froy’s mouth quaked, trying to find the words to say. “Uh, hi, sir.” “What did I tell you?” “Not to call you ‘sir,’ sir.” Marcus looked at me in annoyance. “Was he always like this?” “Yes. You just never noticed since you only learned his name a few days ago.” “Eh, it’s fine,” he said. “So, uh, Froy, I‘m heading to the gym in a bit to start working out. I just came to pick up my pre-workout shit and drop off the pills I made. Do you wanna come yet, or does Dory have to housebreak you a bit more?” Froy began to sweat, unsure of what the correct answer was. Marcus rolled his eyes. “Ugh, nevermind. I’ll go by myself,” he said. “So why’d you want my tic-tac pills anyway? Were you gonna put them in the water dispenser?” His eyes twinkled. “No! They’re just for, uh, recreational purposes.” “Erectile dysfunction?” “No.” “Porn?” “No.” “Bukkake?” “...N-No.” Marcus squinted at me. I could tell he was judging me even though I hadn’t said anything. “Fine,” he said. He pulled out the small orange box of tic-tacs from his incredibly tight pocket and handed them over to me. “Here. Don’t waste them, okay? I don’t have the recipe, so I can’t make more. I wasn’t expecting them to actually do anything in the first place.” “It’s fine. I’m a Chem major. I’ll figure it out if I need to.” Marcus grinned and gave me a noogie on the head. “Yeah, there’s our resident genius.” “Oh, and what’s with the viagra we found on your desk? Are you sure you’re not the one with an erection problem?” I asked. Marcus grabbed his junk and jiggled it in his hands, showcasing its heft and weight. “You think I have any problems getting this big boy up? I’d prove you wrong in a second, but I don’t think these pants are gonna last much longer. I’m getting too big.” I felt a stir in my own pants. “Anyway, do you have it? I’m in a hurry, so I can’t stay long or say hi to Wes.” Both of us had forgotten Froy was still standing meekly behind Marcus. Froy stepped forward and pulled the pill from his pocket. He handed it to Marcus who patted his head, messing up Froy’s spiky waxed-up hair. “Yeah, there we go. Thanks a lot!” It was during their exchange that I noticed something off. Froy had been hunched over this whole time, so I didn’t suspect anything at first, but now he was standing at full height, and… he was eye-level with Marcus. Froy and Marcus were now both 6’1”. I don’t even think Marcus noticed yet. “Marcus…” “Yeah?” “You’re as tall as Froy.” “What?” He stared at Froy and realized they were eye to eye. His face lit up in ecstasy. “Holy shit! I am! I swear this kid was two inches taller than me before. Weren’t you like 6’1”?! Did I get taller too?” He raised his hand and began measuring the tops of their heads, confirming that they were both definitely equal height. “Fuck! I did I get taller. I’m getting bigger all over!” Marcus and Froy may have been the same height, but Marcus held a considerable size difference in terms of muscle mass. Froy was still a bit of a twunk. Marcus looked like he’d been going to the gym for years. It was no contest. The width of Marcus’ torso easily surpassed, nearly even doubled, Froy’s. For anyone at that height, it would normally be pretty difficult to build up any noticeable gains, but Marcus never even worked up a sweat in the past week outside sex. He bounced in place in his excitement, giggling like a child. I could understand why he was so excited. His sleeves flapped in the wind as he jumped. There was no containing him. Out of nowhere, the buttons holding in his pecs popped off, revealing his incredibly bloated chest. They looked as filled with gas as balloons, and yet, they were clearly hard as rock. Did he grow even more? I never even noticed. It wouldn’t be long until his abs popped the buttons off as well, leaving him shirtless. Marcus has never looked hotter than he was at this exact moment—sleeves torn open, chest popping out, muscles grown, and as tall as a model. “This is so fucking awesome, guys. You have no idea how fucking great this feels. Imagine if I grew this much in college! I would’ve stayed a model. Fuck that stupid 6’ height requirement. Just look at me now! Now, I’m a big Marcus!” He put up a confident double-bi. “Aren’t you scared of growing so much?” I asked. “What if you get too big?” “Fuck, no! There’s no such thing as too big. I never want this to stop. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life!” As Marcus fixed his hair, his phone rang. “Ah, alright, I think I’ve gotta go. It’s probably my trainer calling,” he said. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?” “Wait, what about your pre-workout?” “Froy already gave it to me.” “The random viagra pill we found was your ‘pre-workout shit’?” “Well, yeah. In the gym, it’s what I like to call ‘establishing dominance.’” He air-quoted with his fingers. With that, he was off. His muscled wall of a torso took up so much space as he swaggered out of the office. It wouldn’t be long until he wouldn’t even fit through the glass door anymore. It was a scary thought—but an arousing one, nonetheless. I was left alone with Froy again, and he seemed to be just as aroused as I was, if not more. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he started drooling. “Are you still conscious?” I asked. He looked at me and smiled, showing off his cute little dimples. “Ah, yes, sir. Sorry, sir, I, uh, got distracted.” “Don’t worry. So did I,” I said. “You think Marcus is hot?” A look of surprise grew on his face. His mouth shrunk and beads of sweat formed on his hairline. “Uh… yes, sir?” “Really? Is he your type?” “He’s more of an older brother to me.” “What about Wes?” “He’s good-looking too, sir. A bit short though.” I had competition. “So who do you think’s most attractive?” He froze. “Uh…” “Come on, it’s just for fun. You won’t hurt my feelings.” I wasn’t expecting an answer I wanted to hear. Then he spoke, and my heart stopped. “I think it’s you, sir.” “...Me?” “Yes, sir.” “Why? Don’t you think Marcus or Wes are better looking than I am?” “Well, they are…” Ouch. “But Sir Marcus is more of an older brother, and Sir Wes scares me a bit. I like you the most, sir.” “So you’re not just into looks?” “No, sir.” I already knew he thought I was cute from a few days ago, but now I knew he liked me more than the hottest guys in the office. I was living a dream come true. As we looked longingly into each other’s eyes, a bleak thought re-entered my brain and snapped me back to reality: his brothers. But what was I supposed to do? I was so close to getting in his pants. As I reached out to rest my hand on his thigh, his eyes grew wide. He smiled at me and leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests and allowing me free reign over him. Just as my hand tickled the surface of his leg, my phone rang deafeningly throughout the silence of the office. We both panicked, stunned by the rude return to reality. We tidied ourselves up as I stood up to answer the call further away from my desk in case Froy overheard anything he didn’t need to. “Hello?” I asked. “Hey, it’s Wes. I need to talk to someone about this, uh, problem of mine. You know what I mean. Is it alright if you came to my office? Like, now?” It sounded like there was fear in his voice. “Oh, sure, sir. I’ll be right there.” I told Froy I was called to Wes’ office to handle some business. Neither of us said any more. Froy sat back up in his chair and brought himself up to my desk to continue working on whatever documents and memos he had been working on in the morning before he disappeared for lunch. He smiled at me meekly and focused back on the screen. I walked through the office on the way to Wes’ office expecting the worst. He hadn’t contacted me at all throughout the weekend, so I had no idea what he had done or what happened to him. I was worried about him. The last time I saw him was the Friday before the weekend, and that same day, he spent the entire time masturbating in his office and mindlessly drinking his cum. What if he spent his entire weekend locked in his room drinking his own cum? Did his wife or kids not notice anything strange? Did no one notice the new inch in height? Did literally no one notice the strange craving for cum? No? Just me? I knocked on the door, praying silently that Wes was okay. Inside, I could hear Wes bumping into his table and generally just making a whole bunch of noise inside. It took him a while to settle things down before his footsteps finally approached the door. Then, I heard his hand grab onto the handle. He unlocked it, and the door swung open. “Come in, quick.” Standing in front of me was something I wasn’t expecting. Wes was... taller than me—an inch, at least. He had grown. His muscles had bloated up even further, nearly hitting the sides of the doorframe. His shoulders were nearly breaking through his polo shirt. As he stepped forward, his spherical pecs that were so inhumanely gigantic nearly bumped into my chest from where he was standing. He could barely even close his shirt anymore, especially over his baby gut. The top three buttons had already popped off. He grabbed my forearm with a grip so Herculean that it felt like my hand was getting pulped. I was pulled inside in an instant. As the door closed, I was pressed up against his hard body. Every stone-hard curve and mound on his muscle-bound body slammed against my soft body. He was like a boulder, an incredibly muscled-up marble statue. He still had some fat on him, but even then, every muscle could still be felt shifting and flexing underneath as if it were just a layer of skin. The door locked, and the lights switched on. I was in disbelief. He definitely grew, just like Marcus did. He swaggered back to his table where he sat on the desk, causing it to tremble under his weight. He leaned forward, causing his arms to swell in his sleeves, getting dangerously close to bursting out of his shirt. There wasn’t a massive bottle of lube on his desk, but there were definitely stains from what I could only assume was once a vast puddle of lube spilled all over the table. He looked at me and sighed, absent-mindedly flexing his biceps in his shirt. “You’ve gotta help me, Dory. I can’t take it anymore.” I walked up to him and couldn’t help but get overwhelmed at the intense smell of fresh cum wafting in the air around his desk. It was intoxicatingly disgusting. If I took a step back I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a cloud surrounding this table. “I noticed. You got even bigger.” “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Dory. I’ve always been this big.” “How can you still act like nothing’s happening to you? You’ve grown like 50 pounds of muscle and 2 inches taller already. What did that meteor do to your head?” “I already told you it didn’t do anything to me. Why won’t you believe me? I haven’t gotten any taller, I’ve always been 5’9”.” …5’9”? “I’m pretty sure it did something to you, Wes. I have no reason to lie to you. You are the only one who actually swallowed any of that shit, so I’ve been thinking that whatever it was messed with your brain.” “I-I can’t believe that. Why are you even bringing that up? I didn’t ask you to come here to tell me I’m delusional.” Again, no point. “So why did you call me?” He clenched his teeth and played with his fingers. “I wanted to know if you got the tic-tacs.” Man, I did. The question was: did I want to give them to him? “Yeah, I did.” I pulled the small box out of my pocket, being reminded of my encounter with Marcus. He eyed them in my hand with such an eagerness that it almost didn’t seem human. It was animalistic. He smiled nervously, shifting his eyes between me and the box. “Mind if I… uh… had one?” “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be, uh, enabling this problem of yours.” “Come on, I’m your boss. You have to do what I say, right? If you don’t wanna give me one, then you take it.” “What’s the point in me taking it?” “I’ll suck you off if that’s what you want. I won’t have to clean up, and you get your dick sucked. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a win-win.” “Wes, you have a wife and two kids. If your wife finds out—” “She won’t, though. Right?” Wes stood up and stood in front of me, blocking my view with his width. He loomed over me, exhaling through his nose, as he planted a hand on my shoulder and another on his waist. I couldn’t move. His grip had increased tenfold since we last met, and I was sure he was intending to crush my shoulder in his hand. He thrusted his pelvis closer to me, sticking his bulge dangerously close to my face. I could see that the zipper barely hit the top. Wes smiled at me and giggled. He reached down and pulled out the box from my hand. I couldn’t stop him. I was frozen in fear of the moment. My boss was advancing onto his employee, and I definitely could get him fired in an instant. Did I want to, though? It didn’t seem like there was anything wrong with this arrangement. He took out a pill from the box and stored the rest away in his drawer. The pill was the same dusty white it had been that night when we pulled over at what was once the clearing. I was in suspense. “Here, take it.” He presented the pill to my face in between his meaty fingers. “Should I?” “Come on, do your boss a little favor. It’ll look good on your paycheck.” He pressed them against my lips, urging me to take it. So, I did. I opened my mouth ever so slightly, and he shoved the pill straight in with no hesitation. I felt nothing at first. For the first few seconds, it didn’t seem like the pill really worked. Maybe it was just a fluke the first time or maybe it only worked on Wes. Then it hit me—not a thought, but in my stomach. I felt it churning inside me, a strange bubbling force deep in my gut. Just as fast as it began, it moved down from my stomach into my lower regions, somewhere I never normally felt anything from inside. It was in my balls. “Okay, this doesn’t feel normal, Wes.” “It gets better.” He knelt down on his knees and planted his elbows into my thighs as he unbuttoned my pants. Wes’ body was impossibly heavy despite being only two inches taller than me. The density of his muscles weighing down on me was insane. He looked in my eyes and grinned. In my balls, I could feel the strangest sensation, as if something were building up inside me, flooding and rushing inside me. My cock slowly began to rise up in my underwear too. I wasn’t as hung as Wes or Marcus, being only a decent 5-incher, but it was something I was never ashamed of. It got the job done. Now here it was, getting the job done for the boss yet again. My underwear grew tight from what I could only assume were my growing balls. There was no doubt that my balls were churning out cum faster than they ever should have been able to. Wes reached into my underwear and pulled out my cock in one swift tug. My swollen balls followed, and in an instant, my genitals were completely exposed and less than a foot away from the face of the man in charge of my paycheck. He grabbed my cock with his tight grip and pulled it towards him. “Cum for me, Dory.” In that moment, as if by command, the churning in my balls rushed into the base of my cock and began filling out the shaft like a cannon. It filled my cock in an instant. I had to use every bit of my willpower to keep it in and not blast it out on his face without warning. Those kegels were finally coming in handy. “Here we go,” he said. He could tell it was coming, so he leaned over, showcasing his muscled back, appearing like a mountain range, and wrapped his mouth around the head of my cock. His tongue made sure I was well-pleasured. I was getting close—dangerously close. With every second that passed, the more cum filled my cock, and the harder it was to build it up. With one aggressive stroke of his tongue on my head, I let go. The cum flooded out of my cock like a stream of bullets. I could see Wes visibly struggling to swallow as fast as it came in, grappling onto my thighs and grunting, audibly gulping every passing moment. By the time I was emptied and he pulled out, his mouth was still full of my cum. There was so much of it. It was a miracle none of it had spilled on the floor. He swallowed up the rest of it in his mouth and planted his tongue back on my cock, suckling on it like a babe to his mother, cleaning up the excess that spilled onto me. “Fuck, that was good,” he said. “That was a lot more than I’ve ever had before.” He wiped his face clean and licked his hand. I watched him stand up to full height, fixing up his shirt and rubbing off the wrinkles. “So are we done here?” I asked. “Yeah, Dory, you can go. Sorry if I took up your time.” “Nah, it’s no problem. Froy can do my job just as well as I can.” “Maybe I should give him your job instead?” He laughed. He could see my face freeze in fear, causing him to retract his statement. I got up from my seat as Wes accompanied me to the door, taking as much time as I could, not wanting to leave without seeing what might happen to Wes in the next few moments if anything. This was my only chance to prove my theory. As I stood by the door, I grabbed the door handle and took one last look at Wes, standing menacingly in front of me with his arms crossed across his chest. He seemed completely unbothered—and unchanged. Just like the pill, I almost thought nothing was going to happen, then suddenly I heard a tear. A part of his shirt had just ripped open at the back. “What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?” he asked. I couldn’t see anything from where I stood, so I leaned against the door to really take in the entirety of Wes. Then I could see it. I was witnessing him grow right in front of me. It didn’t seem like he noticed anything either. His already incredibly meaty torso began throbbing in certain muscles. Every pulse seemed to grow with intensity. After his body settled down, his body started to visibly expand in every direction. With every breath, his pecs retained a fraction of the growth, further pushing and stressing against his short, causing the button strands to tear. He stretched out his shoulders, causing his shirt to pull upwards. His already globulous shoulders surged outwards, demanding more and more of his already struggling shirt to cover him up. “Why are you just standing there like that, Dory? Aren’t you—ungh—gonna head back?” As his shirt tore around his lats and sleeves, his already-muscular legs popped open his zipper and pants, exposing his gigantic member poking through his obscenely tight briefs. The pants didn’t even reach his ankles anymore, riding up his calves. He stood in place, and yet his body continued to inch closer and closer to mine, confining me and cornering me against the door, limiting me against his growing body. He still didn’t seem to notice. “Dory?” He raised up a massive arm and scratched the back of his head, tearing off the rest of his shirt, dragging off the rags off his bloated chest. I had to look up over two inches now. He definitely grew at least another inch or two, 5’10” maybe, but now he was more of a tank than ever before. I could have held my hands in front of me and been able to grope the massive, bulbous sacs of muscle on his chest with no difficulty. There was definitely enough muscle in his pecs to fit three people. His arms weren’t as thick as my legs yet, but they were definitely getting there. Every bulge and curve on his body was defined and rounded to perfection. There were nearly no flat areas on his muscled-up body. It didn’t look like he could fit through the doorframe anymore with how massive his body was now. He was definitely as tall as Marcus used to be at this point: 5’11”. Only now, he was twice, if not thrice, as muscular. It was insane. It was incredible. I wanted to see more. His entire body was covered in rags, dangling onto his obscene body by the thinnest strips of fabric. He was as large as most bodybuilders now. The only real difference was his gut, but even that had flattened now, semi-revealing his abs underneath a thick layer of fat. My eyes couldn’t leave his body. “Wes… haven’t you noticed anything? Literally anything?” He tilted his head. “What are you talking about? What’s there to notice?” He scratched his nose. “There really is something on my face, isn’t there…” “No, Wes… did you really not just see yourself grow?” “Huh?” “You literally just grew bigger right in front of me! Your clothes are in fucking rags!” He looked down and saw his clothes were torn apart. “Oh, shit! My clothes broke. This is worse than last time.” “Wes, what the fuck? You still don’t think you’re growing every time you drink cum?” “No, but that sounds great! I’d love to have that.” I was speechless. Why couldn’t I get him to realize the truth? If he kept mindlessly drinking his own cum, who knows how big he would get. There would be no limit. The bigger he gets, the more cum there would be for him to drink. The cycle would never end. He stepped back and pulled off the rest of the rags off his Goliath body, leaving him in nothing but an undersized pair of briefs, displaying his fat cock through the sheerness of the cotton. His body was immense. What happened to the short and stout boss I worked for? The small tank was outgrowing himself. He was exceeding the tank status, growing bigger while still keeping his same stout proportions as he became taller. “You don’t have any problems doing this every day, right? It’d be really great if you helped me with this addiction of mine.” Fuck me. “But you can’t keep growing like this—” “Why do you keep insisting that? Do I look any different to you?” “Extremely, yes. Maybe I have to bring you to a doctor or therapist or something. How’s your head, Wes?” He smiled and winked. “Haven’t had any complaints.” I groaned as I left his office. As I headed back to my desk, it almost felt like everyone’s eyes were on me. There was no way everyone knew what just happened. Maybe I was just being paranoid. My phone rang in my pocket, so I pulled it out and read the text. It was from Marcus. “Hey, Dor. Come to the gym down the road. I’m 6’2” now.”
  3. 30 points
    Author's Note: here's another out of the archives -- this one from 2014 as well. A DIFFERENT FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH by Absman420 The texts began shortly before midnight, the buzz of his phone on the nightstand waking him, even in "sleep" mode. At first the old bodybuilder shrugged it off -- he had a fairly good idea who it was and what they wanted -- and they weren't ripe enough yet, anyway -- but when the dull banging began on the front door, he knew he could ignore it no longer. Dressed in only his flannel pajama bottoms -- cut off at the knee to expose his gigantic calves (he hadn't worn pants in over twenty-five years, he bragged) -- he walked down the carpeted stairs to the front door, his stark white hair almost glowing in the darkness. He was a large man. Even in the streams of moonlight coming through the curtains, it was easy to make out his imposing shape. He'd been a weight-lifter most of his life and carried a certain kind of thickness only sported by men who'd spent decades pounding iron -- and carried HIMSELF with the confidence of a man who'd had a superior body for decades. He'd be damned if he'd ruin that by getting old. When he suddenly turned on the outside light, the pounding abruptly stopped. "Who's there?" he growled at the door, even though he knew perfectly well who it was. "Daddy?" A weak, desperate sound. "Please. I can't stand it anymore. Please… they HURT!" The old bodybuilder opened the door, revealing the figure of a lean, young man bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. The boy was maybe 5'8"/ 5'9" about 160lbs, lean in a way that was characteristic of swimmers or long-distance runners, athletic but skinny. Somewhere in his early twenties, he probably shaved once a week, his tight, flawless skin making him look even younger. A tousle of ordinary brown hair that looked slept-on wrong topped a face that was less handsome than pretty. Sure, maybe someday it would mature into handsome, but right now it was the fresh-face of youth. Only his eyes had any fire, bright green and lively. He was dressed in sweat pants, flip flops and a tank top that exposed his lean arms -- he had an air of desperation about him. "Thank God," he said when the old bodybuilder opened the door. "I'm so sorry. I know you said to wait, but I can't stand it anymore! I can't stand it!" He collapsed on the old bodybuilder, hugging the old man's muscular torso, laying his head on the bodybuilder's massive pec. Sobbing, desperate. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I tried to wait… but they HURT!" The old bodybuilder held the boy and stroked his head while he wept. Finally, he shut the front door and said, "It's okay, boy. The first time can be scary. C'mon inside and let's see what's going on." The boy allowed himself to be led to the living room. He babbled. "I mean, I've been horny as fuck, but I can't cum. I CAN'T CUM! It's driving me fucking crazy. I stroke and stroke… almost… almost… but it doesn't fucking happen. THEY HURT SO FUCKING MUCH!" "Lemme see," the old bodybuilder said, sitting on the hassock before the boy. "When was the last time you saw them?" the boy asked, hands on the waist of his sweatpants. "Three... four days ago? You complimented me on them…" The old bodybuilder smiled. "You have beautiful balls," he said. "Golden eggs!" "Well, they're a little bigger than that now," the boy said, lowering the sweats. Instead of his normal boxer shorts, the boy wore a runner's jock, the thin waist strap low on the pubis, barely atop the root of his cock. The pouch itself was stretched nearly to the point of giving way, stuffed full of the boy's swollen, avocado-sized balls. Between the pull of his nads and the squeeze of the pouch, the boy's cock was nearly hard, ready to bust its way out of the cotton fabric any second. "LOOK at them!" The old bodybuilder did look, and he couldn't help but lick his lips -- they were huge. "What's happening to me?" the boy asked. The old bodybuilder ignored him. "Beautiful," he mumbled, gently cupping the boy's sac in his hand, weighing it almost -- the boy gasped. "You sure you wanna cum? I think you could grow these a little more…" The boy may not've liked the idea, but his cock did -- it throbbed a bit in its cotton prison. "Aw, fuck no!" the boy moaned. "You don't understand. They ACHE… Please..." When the old bodybuilder rubbed the over-sized sac with his hand, the boy moaned loudly -- his cock got even harder, straining down the front of the pouch, the head clearly visible through the stretched fibers of the material. Holding the boy's balls in his hand, the old bodybuilder licked the material covering the boy's cock, soaking it in his spit. "Oh…. Daddy," the boy whimpered. "Please…" Guiding him by the hips, the old bodybuilder sat the boy on the hassock, sliding himself to his knees on the floor between the boy's legs. Slipping a couple of thick fingers beneath the band of the boy's jockstrap, the old bodybuilder released the boy's cock, but left his nads trapped in the pouch -- the elastic of the waistband slid up under the base of the boy's erection, tickling him. The boy's cock was significantly bigger than the last time the old bodybuilder had seen it, as well -- the boy probably hadn't realized it because his balls were so freakishly out of proportion. Their firmness and swollen fresh pinkness made them irresistible. The boy's cock stood nearly nine inches straight up, a tiny line of pre-cum stringing down to the root -- the old bodybuilder licked that up pretty quickly. Ambrosia. When he took the boy's cock in his mouth, just the flared head, he tasted another release of pre -- delicious, teasing. He played with the head for another few moments, hoping for more, then finally took the whole of the boy's cock in his mouth, burying his nose in the boy's neatly trimmed pubes. The boy grabbed either side of the hassock and leaned back, his abs catching the light from above them, highlighting his skinny-boy eight pack. His breath was already hitching, and the old bodybuilder wondered if the boy would even last ten minutes -- probably not. He'd clearly never gotten head before, not from the way he was reacting. The possibility of a virgin turned the old bodybuilder on even more and he set to work in earnest, bobbing his head up and down the boy's shaft squeaky smooth, making sure his thick white mustache tickled the boy, too -- the boy was a bubbling brook of pre-cum. The old bodybuilder would be sucking the flavor out of his white whiskers for days. Deftly, he pulled the jockstrap down and released the boy's smooth, swollen balls, cupping them in one hand until he'd pulled the strap completely off, then holding them reverently in both, stroking them and and gently pulling them down in counter-rhythm to his mouth. They were massive -- did he say avocados? Maybe he meant mangos… The boy was trying to find a balancing place between pain and pleasure -- he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he kept holding the hassock, although he'd felt an urge to pinch his own nipple. He didn't know why. The old bodybuilder rolled the boy's gigantic balls back and forth, then began running one hand up and down the back of them while the other cupped their base. He settled the moving hand at the top of the boy's sac, ran fingers up either side of the boy's taint, then began playing with the boy's tight hole, all the while sucking the boy's rock hard cock. The boy was panting now, thrusting his hips into the old bodybuilder's face. On the edge again, ready, so, so ready to blow his load. The old bodybuilder knew this and slipped his thick middle finger into the boy's hole, quickly finding the boy's prostate and pressing that button for all its worth. The boy released the sides of the hassock, grabbing the old bodybuilder's head and began to orgasm, pushing his cock deep into the old bodybuilder's throat. He didn't just moan -- he screamed. The old bodybuilder had tasted plenty of the boy's pre, but was surprised by the volume -- even HE didn't expect the boy to pack such a punch. Each of the boy's squirts nearly filled his mouth -- he had to time his swallows to match the boy's ejaculations. The boy came. And came. His orgasm lasted nearly two minutes, the most incredible, mind-blowing thing he'd ever felt. And the old bodybuilder swallowed it all, every drop, until his own belly was distended from the creamy ambrosia. But whether the old bodybuilder came or not, the boy didn't know -- he was so exhausted, he could barely focus. He passed out as his boy-cock still dribbled some remaining drops -- but don't worry, the old bodybuilder got those, too. When the boy finally awoke, the first thing he realized was that the sun was up -- it was morning. It must be hours later. He was lying in an unfamiliar bed. The next thing he realized was that his balls didn't ache anymore. Not at all. As a matter of fact, they felt totally normal. When he touched them, he found them more sensitive than they'd been -- but at least they were back to normal size. His cock, on the other hand, was definitely bigger than it had been. How about that -- the old bodybuilder had told him the truth… His rumination -- and masturbation -- was interrupted by the bedroom door opening. The boy pulled his hands away from his genitals, like he'd been caught doing something bad. "Good morning!" the bodybuilder in the doorway said, but it wasn't the man the boy remembered. The boy was sure the bodybuilder's hair had been stark white, with a matching white mustache -- but this man had hair that could only be described as "salt & pepper", even his mustache was mostly black. Something was different about his skin, too -- it was… tighter. It was the same guy, obviously the same guy, but he looked different. Younger. The boy didn't know why he'd described the guy as an old bodybuilder, when clearly, in the light of day, he was middle-aged -- maybe 45 on the out side. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice not quite as rough. "Really great, thank you." The boy smiled, softly rubbing his balls. "You weren't kidding about how powerful that would be. Wow." "Yeah?" the big man said, flexing his pecs. "You wanna go again?" The boy laughed, embarrassed. "I don't if I can go again right now…" he said, although his cock kind of liked the idea. The middle-aged bodybuilder chuckled. "No, I mean the peptides. Do you wanna do the injection again?" The boy realized what he meant, and self-consciously cupped his ball sac. "Will it… Will it feel like it did last night?" "Better if you let it… brew longer." The boy smiled -- he didn't even hesitate. "Let's do it." And that's how he found himself in the bodybuilder's kitchen, bent over the center island, as the middle-aged bodybuilder pulled a small vial from his refrigerator and filled the tiniest of insulin syringes. The boy knew from experience it wouldn't hurt, so when he felt the bodybuilder pinch the back of his balls, he got an erection right as the tip of the needle entered his sac. In a second, it was over. The boy slid his sweatpants on, stuffing the well-stretched jockstrap in his pocket. He could already feel the peptide working -- churning in his nuts. Damn, it felt good. The middle-aged bodybuilder smiled, his (mostly) black mustache contrasting his white teeth. "Let's see if you can go longer than three days this time," he said playfully, throwing one big arm around the boy's shoulders. They laughed and kissed awkwardly at the door, like friends, then the boy went his merry way. "I don't want to see you for at least a week," the bodybuilder said. "Seriously. You can do it." The boy blew him a silly kiss from his car. That evening, just after the bodybuilder had finished his workout and was thinking about something to eat, there came a dull pounding on his front door. He opened it to reveal a beautiful ginger boy, no more than eighteen, built like a wrestler or gymnast, big arms and no waist. He wore underarmor compression shorts which were stretched to the limit by his gigantic balls. It took both his hands to support their weight -- crazy unreal. "Ok, Coach" the ginger boy said, panting. "It's been two weeks. A record, you said. Now you gotta get me off. Please, they hurt so much -- they ACHE." The bodybuilder smiled, inadvertently licking his dark mustache. "You picked a good time," he said, drawing the boy inside, "I just finished working out and I'm STARVING…" He shut the door behind them. END
  4. 24 points
    Author's Note: I wrote this story in 2017 -- a little muscle-growth, a little mind-control, and some gear fetish -- my usual tropes. Enjoy THE LUCKY JOCKSTRAP By absman420 “Gentlemen, it’s the last game of the season and you know what that means….” The boys did. Collectively eager sighs all around. Some of them murmured “lucky jockstrap” under their breath, hoping it would be them this year. Toby sat on the bench in front of his locker, shaking his head slightly -- he’d heard the rumors, but he thought they were ridiculous. There was no possible way… The Coach chuckled, his thick, muscular frame flexing as he leaned against the row of lockers. “That’s right,” he said, adjusting his own package as he spoke. “One of you boys is getting the chance of a lifetime! And with all the scouts out there looking at Goldy, you might get a free ride someplace yourself!” All of them -- Toby included -- glanced at Robbie Goldman, who was already dressed in his jockstrap and hip pads, slowly sliding his game pants up his muscular thighs. He was fucking gorgeous, built and handsome, his self-confidence radiating with the kind of casualness only possessed by the kind of guys who’d never suffered, who’d never known opposition, who’d never even had a zit. Toby hated the mother-fucker, the big muscles, the movie-star looks, the big cock that he showed off with pride in the shower. It just wasn’t fair. When he noticed them all looking, Goldy flexed his abs hard, all the grooved lines leading the eye to his big jock bulge. He winked and blew them a kiss. Most of the boys laughed -- not Toby. The Coach still had a smirk on his face -- he looked at Goldy like the boy could do no wrong. He was so obvious about it. “So suit up, boys!” he said, righting his stance to be on both feet. “One of you is about to have a helluva game!” Stuff and nonsense, Toby thought as the Coach left the locker room, glad-handing boys on the back and laughing with them. The pre-game excitement was nothing compared to the speculation over who would win the Lucky Jockstrap. “I think it’s bullshit,” said Eddie Brannigan at the locker next to Toby as he slid off his boxer shorts. “Agreed,” said Toby, pulling off his school shirt and stuffing it in his locker. “What chance would we have of winning, anyway, even if it WAS real?” Eddie bitched, picking the new, clean jockstrap left in his locker and examining it before his slid it on. “They’d just give it to one of the starters, the popular fuckers…” “Probably that douchebag Goldman already has it on,” Toby said, taking the jockstrap left for him off the hook in his locker. And then, as if he’d heard them, Robbie Goldman was standing right next to them, in his game pants and the t-shirt he wore under his pads, ripped to expose his entire, glorious core. “Did I just hear my name?” he asked, ever flexing. He saw the jockstrap in Toby’s hand and nodded toward it. “Think that might be the lucky one?” Toby barked a laugh. “Well, why not? Could be anybody.” “My guess would be you,” Toby said, pulling the jockstrap on and adjusting himself in it. “Coach has a fucking hard-on for you, anyway. Why not give your Gold Star some magical, Lucky Jockstrap?” Instead of taking his bait, Goldy shrugged -- his attitude dripped of the kind of casualness only produced by the most arrogant. “Cuz I won it last year,” he said, making his way back to his locker, “and I doubt I’d get it two years in a row. Like you could improve on this.” He motioned to his crotch. “Good luck, bitches.” With that, he grabbed his shoulder pads and jersey and headed toward the training room, muscular poetry in motion. “‘Like you could improve on this,’” Eddie mumbled under his breath as he belted his game pants. “I hate that fucker,” Toby said, stepping into his own pads. “I swear to God, I wish there WERE some kind of magic jockstrap that could make me big enough to pop that pretty-boy ass-wipe upside the head! I would fucking love that!” As he pulled his pants up and belted them, he didn’t notice his jockstrap feeling any different than any other jockstrap he’d worn in his life. He laughed to himself -- magic jockstraps! Obviously, the Coach was doing some weird, motivational thing with the team on this, the last game of the season. Maybe if they thought they were wearing a magic jock, they’d play harder or something. It was obviously a joke that had become an urban legend, thought Toby. Or maybe it was some elaborate prank on the New Kid in School -- he wouldn’t put it past this bunch of assholes. Even as a senior, maybe because he was a senior, nobody had made this new school feel like home to him -- they were all busy looking forward to college -- they didn’t have time. Toby looked forward to college, too. Sure, it meant starting over -- again! -- but this time, it wouldn’t be just him. EVERYBODY was a naive freshman. And he’d already gotten early acceptance to his Ivy-League favorite, so it wasn’t like he was worried. Just gotta get through senior year, shitty as it might be. He and Eddie grabbed their shoulder pads and headed their skinny asses to the training room along with the other boys -- all of them secretly wishing they were wearing the Lucky Jockstrap, whether they believed it was true or not. *********************************************** Things started getting weird for Toby during the very first play of the game -- the freakin’ punt return! He was a third -- or fourth -- string receiver, which automatically put him on special teams. He and Eddie were deep in the back and though the punt was clearly headed in Eddie’s direction, he didn’t signal a fair catch -- it was almost like he didn’t see the ball at all. Toby watched the ball smack Eddie clearly in the facemask, where it bounced clumsily toward him. Surprising himself, Toby caught the ball before it hit the ground and with a little twist, started running toward the opposite goal. He felt really good, easily going fifteen yards before meeting the defense -- this would be one his best return stats ever! Then, to his surprise, he passed the defenders like they weren’t even there. It seemed odd to him that such big guys moved so slowly -- he dodged them easily, almost reading their bodies and feeling their moves before they made them. He was open-running now, striding like a gazelle, feeling the strength of his hamstrings and glutes -- he felt so open and free, light and powerful. He could feel a defender approaching him from the rear, so like a rabbit, he changed his trajectory. The boy following him fell to the ground empty-handed just as Toby crossed the goal-line. Touchdown. He’d just scored a touchdown. He couldn’t believe it -- he wasn’t even breathing hard. He’d just scored a touchdown on the first freakin’ punt-return of the game! Maybe he was wearing the Lucky Jockstrap. And before he had time to laugh at his own thought, his team was upon him, cheering and smacking his helmet and his ass. “Where you been hiding those moves?” “Fuckin’ made them look like chumps!” “It’s gotta be the jockstrap!” That made someone laugh in the way of high school boys and fart jokes. “Yeah,” someone repeated. “Gotta be the jockstrap!” Then they all started in, laughing and picking at his ass. Toby, who’d never been the center of good-natured intention before, was flying high, though his own innate cynicism kept trying to rear its ugly head. He really wanted to believe that there might be some Lucky Jockstrap -- and that for some reason, HE’D been lucky enough to get it. He’d gotten the tiniest bit of wood at the thought -- his dick plumped up a little anyway -- but he kind of liked the way it felt, so it didn’t bother him. It made him feel kind of alpha male. Even the Coach patted his ass. “Good job, Toby. How’d that feel?” Toby laughed. “Surprisingly easy,” he said. “When can I go out again?” “I like your hunger,” the Coach said, “but I’m saving you. I got plans for you later.” With that, the Coach was back in the game, yelling as their punter kicked the point after. For the rest of the game, Toby wondered if he was the one. Other players were having good games, too. But every time Toby found himself on the field, he moved with strength and ease and an awareness of his body in space that he’d never felt before. He’d always been a nerd who played football because his dad made him, but now, in his last game of his senior year, he was finding a love for the game he’d never had before. And his jockstrap -- lucky or not -- felt great on his half-hard dick. It came down to the last play of the game. They were behind by a field-goal, but it was fourth down and too far to kick. Hail Mary. Coach put Toby in -- hell, ALL the receivers were in. “I need you to run, boy,” he said, as Toby, with a strange sense of confidence, trotted out to the huddle. The snap -- everybody went in motion. Like before, Toby suddenly felt like he was the only one moving in real time -- all the other players seemed to be moving slowly. It took no effort to dodge them, pass them, leave them behind. And then the strangest sensation of all -- he became aware of the ball, descending above and behind him -- he could feel its arc. And even with defenders on his tail and others crowding the endzone, Toby knew the exact right moment to break his run and leap, turning just enough for Goldy’s pass to land perfectly in his arms, like he knew it would -- right on the numbers. Picture perfect. He came down in the endzone -- touchdown! First and last touchdowns of the game, he laughed to himself. That’s when he knew he had the Lucky Jockstrap. Toby, a mediocre player at best, just scored the game-winning touchdown on the last game of his senior year -- if that wasn’t the definition of Lucky Jockstrap, he didn’t know what was! Why wouldn’t he get a hard on? His teammates were upon him, cheering and smacking him and lifting him off the ground. He even had this strange moment when Goldy ran up to him, hugging him close. “You caught it” he yelled happily. “You fucking caught that pass like you knew it was there!” “I did!” Toby replied, just as giddy. “I could feel it!” Goldy started banging their helmeted heads together. “You got the jock!” he yelled, and Toby could feel the start of Goldy’s erection pressing into his own. It was a fucking moment. The cheers and horseplay followed him all the way to the locker room -- the energy of the win had the boys at a fever pitch. Eddie danced around him like a puppy off the leash! “That was fuckin’ amazing! You were fuckin’ amazing! Gotta be the jock!” Toby had barely gotten his shoulder pads off when the Coach yelled, “Toby!” from his office door. “Toby,” he bass rumbled, an ear-to-ear smile, “get your ass in here!” A big, jealous grin from Eddie started him off. The boys cat-called him and slapped his ass as he made his way down the aisle toward the coach’s office -- it was the first time he ever felt part of the team! He was lucky -- jockstrap or not. The Coach closed the door behind them, cutting off most of the noise from the locker room -- he sat his muscular form on the edge of his desk, looking at Toby with a smile on his face. Toby stood there in his game pants and the sweaty t-shirt he’d worn beneath his pads and he felt kind of weird -- what was this all about? “How do you feel?” Coach asked, his thick, muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. “Pretty fucking great!” Toby said. “You know, for a guy who just scored the game-winning touchdown!” Coach chuckled. “Must be the jockstrap.” Toby smiled -- his dick still half-hard. He shrugged. “Must be.” “Let’s find out,” the Coach said, shifting his weight. “Take your shirt off.” And even though Toby said, “What?” he immediately found himself pulling his t-shirt over his head. “Flex for me. Let me see those abs.” Toby was more than a little confused when he put his hands behind his head and flexed his abs for the Coach. First, he was confused that he was doing it at all, and then second, he was confused as to where his abs had suddenly come from. What a rack! A tight, lumpy eight pack with deep grooves and separations -- an Adonis belt showing an obvious “V” leading into the front of his game pants. He turned to display his obliques -- why was he doing this? “What’s happening?” he asked, voice wavering, panicking -- not that that stopped him from flexing. The Coach smiled. “Relax, Toby. Don’t panic. You love flexing for me -- it turns you on.” That’s for sure, Toby thought, squeezing his abs tight and twisting his hip. If the old man wants to look, let him see. Toby’s cock thickened a little, kind of obvious itself. “Nice,” Coach said. “Lose the pants.” Toby undid the belt and the lace-front pants, then slid his thumbs behind the waistband, about to shove everything down, leaving himself naked, when the Coach said, “No, no. Leave the jock on. Never take off the jock.” And then he was standing there in front of the Coach in only his jockstrap, his half-hard cock obvious in its cotton mesh pouch. Toby calmly said, “I don’t understand what’s going on.” The Coach eyed him up and down, like he was a piece of meat, then made a motion for Toby to turn around. He obeyed, but he didn’t know why. “Very nice,” the Coach said. “You’ve gained some good size in your legs and ass. I’ll still need you to be bigger, though.” Bigger, Toby thought. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get bigger.” And when he did, his cock twitched -- pleasure. He was so confused. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.” “Hold on a second,” the Coach said and sauntered over to the locker room door, his own massive legs swinging around each other. “Goldman!” he hollered, head through the door. “Get your ass in here!” Toby could hear the other boys laughing and joking to themselves, probably getting ready for showers. He wasn’t able to call out to them -- he just stood there, waiting. Goldy entered the office, wearing only his jockstrap and carrying a towel. “What’s up, Coach?” he asked, making quick eye-contact with Toby and smirking. “How’s our lucky winner?” “Flex for us, would you, Goldy?” Coach said. “Toby needs something to look at as I explain things to him. You don’t need to pay attention to us -- just focus on flexing.” “You got it, Coach!” Goldy said, immediately beginning his routine, flexing his abs -- his cock sprang to life in his jockstrap, beginning to stretch the pouch. Even Toby could see the guy had a big cock. He seemed to be really into posing. “You know Goldy’s going to State next year, full ride.” Toby DID know that, but when he turned to acknowledge the Coach, the Coach said, “Keep your eye on Goldy. Look at that incredible body.” Toby shifted his eyes back to the quarterback -- Goldy DID have an incredible body, so ripped and muscular. He didn’t mind watching while the Coach spoke. “Goldy’s gonna be a superstar there -- probably get drafted early -- as long as he stays focused on his game. That’s where you come in. Tell me, what do you think of him? Tell me the truth.” Toby watched the boy pose and flex, a vapid smile on the quarterback’s face. “I think he’s a douchebag,” Toby said calmly. A douchebag with an incredible body. “I can imagine,” the Coach said. “He’s a winning quarterback going full ride to State, and the pros beyond that, an incredible body, he’s gorgeous. And look at that fuckin’ cock. Imagine having a cock like that…” Toby looked at Goldman’s cock -- lucky bastard. “I can understand why you’d be jealous.” Jealous? thought Toby. Was he jealous? Is THAT what he’d been feeling? It must have been -- everything the Coach said was so TRUE. Had he let petty jealousy get in the way of appreciating Goldy for what he really was? That made so much sense. “In fact,” Coach said, “I think it would do you a lot of good to admit how you really feel, how you recognize Goldy’s natural superiority and wish that it could be you.” Toby had tears in his eyes. “It’s true!” he said, as if he were confessing. Why had it been so hard? “It’s not him -- it’s ME! I was so jealous I pushed all that negative shit on him when it was ME who was fucked up. He’s gorgeous! He’s perfect! He’s EVERYTHING! And I’m just some petty, jealous mother-fucker who’ll never be that lucky.” Goldy just kept flexing, oblivious to it all, a self-loving smirk on his face. “Feels good to get it out, doesn’t it?” And Toby did feel good, a wave of peace and ease overtook him. Everything was so clear. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve wasted so much energy hating him.” “Well, you can make it up to him. Goldy’s going to State next Fall and I need him to be focused on football, not worrying about homework and papers and grades -- that’s the stuff you like.” That was true, thought Toby. While Goldy may have been his physical superior, Toby was the brains of the outfit -- he was going Ivy League, after all. “But I’m not going to State,” Toby said. “I’ve been pre-accepted to…” “State,” said the Coach, interrupting him. “I just got you recruited to State. That’s why I put you in the Lucky Jockstrap, so the recruiter would see you making some sweet moves and snap you up. Now you can have Goldy’s back -- he can focus on football and training and you can take care of all the bullshit, the papers and the homework. Isn’t that awesome?” A smile crossed Toby’s face. It WAS awesome! It would be so much easier for Goldy if he didn’t have to get bogged down with all the stuff that Toby was so good at. Of course Toby would go to State if it meant he could help Goldy .The Coach had thought of everything. “One more thing,” the Coach said. “I need Goldy focused on football and training, not dealing with some sexual assault case or accidental pregnancy -- I don’t need girls fucking up the picture -- so there’s something else you can help out with.” “Wait a minute,” Toby said, calmly watching Goldy flex his magnificent body, “I’m not gay.” “I don’t care,” Coach said, sounding a little annoyed. “You kids and your labels. I don’t give a shit what you call yourself. My boy has needs -- you’re there to satisfy them so he can stay focused on the shit that matters: football and training.” “But I don’t want…” “Yes, you do. Now be quiet and drop to your knees.” Toby obeyed, kneeling in front of Goldy, the muscular quarterback’s sweaty jockstrap pouch right in his face, inches away from his mouth. He was repulsed.. “Look at that package,” Coach roughly whispered, squatting down next to Toby. “Look how full, how masculine.” Toby had to admit, whether it was gay or not, Goldy had a beautiful package -- he filled that jockstrap so fully. So masculine.“And look at his cock,” Coach continued. “Look how much he likes posing for us, how he gets off on it. Look how his cock gets thicker and more beautiful as it grows there in the pouch. It’s an amazing cock.” “It’s an amazing cock,” Toby agreed, and his own cock started to get hard in his own jockstrap. “Get in there close,” Coach said. “Smell his scent -- get to know it.” Toby did -- his nose was buried in Goldy’s sweaty jockstrap. He could feel Goldy’s amazing cock hardening against his face. “Kiss it,” Coach said. “Kiss that amazing cock.” Toby found himself kissing it, licking it, soaking the jockstrap in his spit. He couldn’t get enough. Goldy’s cock was rock-hard, straining the cotton webbing of the pouch to the max. Toby had never wanted anything so bad. “Feels like you’re ready,” Coach said. “Why don’t you take it out and suck it? Really pleasure him -- the way he deserves. It’s what you want.” He did -- Toby wanted it. He needed it. Frantically, he pulled the waist strap down and Goldy’s big, beautiful cock flopped out. Gorgeous. It was fucking gorgeous. As perfect as Goldy himself. Toby nearly gagged, it was so big and he was so anxious. Goldy moaned and Toby realized it was from the pleasure Toby was giving him -- that turned him on even more! Coach’s voice faded into the background as Toby worked Goldy’s cock -- he knew Coach was talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Goldy’s cock.. Amazing. He’d never felt anything like it -- never even considered it -- taking a man’s cock in his mouth, feeling it push itself against the roof of his mouth, the taste of his sweat and pre-cum. Giving pleasure gave him so much pleasure himself -- wave after wave coursed through him, reinforcing his desire. Nothing mattered but this -- nothing mattered but serving Robbie Goldman. Toby would do anything for him. Anything. He lost track of time as he sucked and Coach told him what he needed to know -- how he needed to feel. When Goldy came in his mouth, filling it with his salty ambrosia, Toby came himself, soaking his jockstrap in cum -- but he ignored it. He was too busy swallowing every bit of Goldy’s -- there was nothing better. No reward more fulfilling. And he wanted more. He was so lucky. ************************************************** Nine months later. State University -- the athletic dorm. The morning sun shines through the slits in the blinds, highlighting the sleeping muscular jock in striped shadows. His morning wood is quite obvious beneath the thin cotton sheets. From the darkness of the other bed, a heavily muscled young man carefully turns his alarm clock off before it rings and gingerly crawls across the floor toward the sleeping jock. Kneeling beside the bed, he carefully lifts the sheet away, exposing the jock’s glorious cock, rock hard and thickly lying across the jock’s hip. Without hesitation, he takes the jock’s cock in his mouth, gently sucking the jock awake.The jock orgasms in that moment, filling the heavily muscled young man’s mouth with his salty cum -- the first of many today. The jock has been awake for a while, but he doesn’t open his eyes or move until after he’s orgasmed. Then he casually wraps his hand around the heavily muscled young man’s head and affectionately pushes him off his cock. “Thanks, Toby,” he says quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “That’s how I like to start my day.” The heavily muscled young man takes the compliment and a shudder of pleasure runs through him. “As if I could resist a chance at that cock,” Toby says, standing up and adjusting his own morning wood in the jockstrap he never takes off -- his Lucky Jock. “What do you weigh now?” Goldy asks, lounging in bed, studying Toby as Toby brings him his coffee. “I was 238 at weigh-in yesterday,” Toby says, flexing seductively. “I’m getting there, aren’t I?” Goldy smiles over the brim of his coffee cup. “You know I like ‘em big.” Toby has already become too big to be an effective receiver, so they’ve made him a tight end, which Goldy thinks is hysterical. Toby’s new-found muscle size is more useful in that position -- and it allows him to train with abandon. Goldy likes a training partner who pushes him in the weight room -- and it adds to the illusion of their relationship. “I’ll get as big as you want,” Toby says, flexing his arms in a double bi. “I love being big!” “You love being anything I want,” Goldy says, chuckling to himself. “It’s too perfect!” “You deserve it,” Toby says, earnestly, kneeling at the foot of Goldy’s bed. “You need to focus on football and training. I’m happy to take care of anything else. Anything -- I’m so lucky!” “Did you get my English paper done?” “Of course. I also took two of your online midterms. I’m finishing your pottery project after practice.” “Cool,” Goldy says, rubbing Toby’s head like a dog, which makes a shiver of pleasure run through Toby. “Let’s go get some breakfast at the union and then hit the gym. I feel like pumping some chest this morning.” “You got it!” Toby says, jumping up to get changed as Goldy takes a piss in the bathroom. “You seen my yellow compression shirt?” “I did your laundry yesterday -- it’s folded and in the drawer.” “Damn,” Goldy says, coming out of the bathroom, grabbing at his crotch. “Someone’s looking to get fucked, isn’t he?” Toby laughs quietly ducking his head, sliding shorts on over his jockstrap as Goldy puts on compression pants. ”I only want to please you.” Goldy pats Toby’s butt. “Your ass in that jockstrap pleases me.” Some of the guys made fun of Toby because he never takes off his jockstrap, but he waves them off. “This jock changed my life!” he says. “The first time I put it on, I got a touchdown on a kickoff return and then the winning touchdown in the same game! I swore then that if we kept winning, I’d leave it on! It’s lucky, I tell you. It’s my Lucky Jockstrap!”
  5. 23 points
    This is a quickie that I just hashed out real quick. Enjoy! Coltin and Tyler had been best friends since they were in diapers. They were born a month apart and their families were very close so they literally grew up together. They went to the same school growing up from kindergarten to senior year. They were inseparable. People even thought that they were brothers, because they actually favored each other a little bit. So it only made sense for them to be roommates when the opportunity arose. They both decided to go to University of Memphis, obviously. They couldn't go to different schools. So they also planned on being roomies. They got moved in everything put in It’s place and wanted to go for a walk around campus. They were walking around the University Center as they spot a group of guys playing some football in the big field in front of the UC. "Man those guys are JACKED.", Coltin blurted out. Tyler laughed and agreed. It was no secret that Coltin longed for more size but it just wasn't in the cards for him. He wasn't a bad looking guy by any means, though. In fact, he had quite a handsome face with a nicely trimmed beard with reddish blonde hair. He had a very lean, toned physique dialing in around 170lbs at 6'2. But he wanted more. He observed how these guys playing in the field wore workout shorts that stretched perfectly over their taught butt and beefy quads, how their pecs had a slight bounce to them when they ran. He wanted just a portion of that. That's all and he would be happy. Tyler, on the other hand, just preferred to look at it. He was content at his current physique level, which was pretty close to Coltin's with just a little extra flab. Coltin was definitely the more active, sports-oriented of the two. "Dude just go talk to them and see if they'll give you any pointers on bulking up.", Tyler told Coltin. Coltin sighed, "I feel like I've tried everything there is to try, but I guess it wouldn't hurt." Coltin jogged out to talk to one of the guys and Tyler watched as the guy he talked to gestured for him to join them. Coltin pointed back to Tyler, not wanting to ditch him. Tyler gestured back that he was going to run into the UC to grab a bite to eat and cool off and encouraged him to join them. After about an hour, he glanced out the window to see Coltin still outside playing football with these jocks. He was getting bored so he just shot a text to Coltin, telling him that he was going back to the room and that he would see him there later. Later that night, Coltin returned to the room, a sweaty mess. He seemed excited. Through his heavy breathing, he managed to get out, "The guys want me to try out for the team and they said they'll help me bulk up!" "Dude that's great! I'm excited for you man!" A few weeks had passed and Coltin came in from an intense workout from the gym, looking extra pumped. Tyler had no idea what kind of regime those jocks were putting him through, but he could already tell that whatever it was, it was working. Coltin still had his lean physique, but you could tell that his chest was just a little bit thicker, arms bulged just slightly larger than they were a few weeks ago, and his legs looked more defined. His shirts started to fit him better. "Bro that workout today was killer. You should join us some time. You could use some extra muscle." Tyler chuckled, "Nah man I'm good.", thinking that he would rather do just about anything else instead. "Suit yourself dude. They've gotten me up to 180 as of this morning.", as he raised an arm and flexed casually, prompting a decent size bicep to stand at attention. And he smirked. "This is the heaviest I've ever been. And I don't plan on slowing down." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The semester flew by, Christmas break was just around the corner. Coltin was close to breaking 200. He was looking beefier than ever, clothes stretching over his thicker pecs and beefy arms. He had really wanted to break 200 before going home, but he wasn't complaining. He'd managed to pack on around 23lbs of muscle in a semester's time. Tyler thought it seemed like he was putting on the weight a little faster than he thought possible, but he just shrugged it off. Coltin was to go home for break, while Tyler went with his family to California for most of the Christmas break. His family had gone to San Diego for Christmas every year for as long as he could remember. So as they parted ways, Tyler gave his best friend a big hug goodbye, as it would be a little over a month before he saw him again. It was a couple of days before school was to start back for spring semester when Coltin got a phone call from his buddy, Tyler. "Hey man I got some news. My mom had the bright idea to go out on the rocks today when we were visiting La Jolla Cove and a wave hit and swiped her off the rocks." "Jesus Christ Tyler is she ok!?" Coltin gaped. "Yeah man she's fine, but she's in no condition to travel right now so I'm stuck out her indefinitely until her condition gets better. The doc says it could be anywhere from a couple of weeks to a couple of months." "Man that really blows! I miss you man! Tell your mom I send my regards and that I hope she gets to recover sooner rather than later." "Will do man. I'll keep you posted." They hung up and Coltin just sat there. He couldn't believe it. He and Tyler had never been apart this long and he wasn't sure what he was going to do without his best bud at school with him. I guess it would give him more time to focus on his workouts and football practice. So school resumed a few days later and Coltin did nothing but go to class and go to the gym. He was determined to break 200lbs soon. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It ended up being close to April before Tyler's mom had recovered enough for them to travel back home. He and Coltin had tried to stay in touch over the last couple of months with updates on his mom, but it was tough. Tyler decided he wanted to surprise Coltin, so he didn't tell him that he was on his way back to UoM yet. He entered the hallway of the dorm building and he could hear voices further down the hallway. One of them sort of sounded like Coltin, but the voice was muuuuch deeper, so he knew it wasn't him. He made his way down the hall and as he rounded the corner, he was met with the largest human being he had ever seen. The beast was facing away from him talking to someone else, who was completely obscured by his massive back. His body almost stretched to both sides of the hallway. He had on what had to be a XXXXL tank top that was hanging on for dear life. The massive bodybuilder heard someone round the corner and turned around. His eyes lit up with surprise as he saw that it was his best friend, Tyler. "Buddy! I didn't know you were coming home!, boomed the man in his deep, bovine voice. Tyler, on the other hand, was steadying himself against the wall upon realizing that this behemoth was his best friend Coltin. The man standing before him could've eaten 3 of the previous Coltin's. He tried to take it all in slowly. His face looked exactly the same. Same old Coltin. He was the same height as before, just four times as wide. Attached to his head was the thickest bull neck that Tyler had ever seen. No wonder his voice had dropped so many octaves. His neck was threatening to be swallowed up by a set of massive traps on either side, tugging at the straps of that poor tank top. If he shrugged, his neck was sure to disappear completely. His shoulders were the size of beach balls. And his chest. Holy fuck his chest. It was magnificent. His pecs were so thick and juicy, any woman would be jealous of his cup size. The tank was so tight, he could see his quarter size nipples were erect and pointed straight at the ground, completely overshadowed by his mammoth chest. The slightest twitch in his body sent them bouncing. His back was so thick and wide, it was physically impossible for his arms to go past a 45 degree angle. Speaking of his arms - they had to be at least 30 inches around. 30 inches of pure muscular power. His forearms were probably bigger around than my legs, so fucking big. His hands were so thick and meaty, Tyler wasn't sure he could even use a cell phone anymore. At least Siri was a thing now. His eyes wandered next down to his midsection, where he saw that the tank was bulging out from the size of his massive muscle gut, but even with the size of his muscle gut, he still had that incredible V taper due to the massive breadth of his shoulders and back. Fuck. And his quads. Fuck. The slightest shift in his weight caused them to writhe and contract with pure power, stretching his mesh workout shorts dangerously close to the breaking point. They were the size of redwoods. His feet are spread wide and still his legs are fighting for space, his massive calves still touching. This man that was Tyler's best friend was so massive, he was still speechless. His entire body was covered with a good amount of reddish blonde hair. He could see it swirling out from underneath his tank and down his massive forearms. "I....er....uh." Tyler couldn't even form a sentence. Coltin gave a big, hearty laugh causing his enormous pecs to bounce. "I guess I grew a little bit while you were gone, huh?" boomed Coltin. "Fuck man. A little bit?! Are you on drugs dude!?" This made Coltin laugh again. "Roids? Bro roids wouldn't have even worked this well. I took something a little more....natural." grinned Coltin mischievously. "How? What?....How much?" Tyler had so many questions. "Well I have to use a packaging scale now, but this morning I weighed in at 447lbs. Tyler. I've gained almost 300 lbs of fucking muscle bro." With that, he flexed his mighty biceps. Tyler swore he heard a boom as his arms exploded in size. He wasn't ready for the size of those amazing arms flexed. He swooned and grabbed onto the wall for support. He watched as Coltin slowly made his way to his best friend, swinging one massive tree trunk around the other. Tyler knew that he had to touch him. He wouldn't be able to convince himself that it was real until he could feel that amazing muscle with his own hands. As he approached, he marveled again at the fact that Coltin hadn't seemed to have gotten any taller. Tyler had always been slightly taller than him and that was still the case. This made Coltin look even more massive. 6'1" is fairly tall, but when you have this much muscle packed onto that frame, there just isn't anywhere to put it all. He ran his hands underneath the tank top through the thick carpet of hair over his bulging muscle gut. It was hard as a rock. He caressed his massive pillow pecs, marveling at how rock hard they felt, despite them looking plump and juicy. A moan escaped Tyler's lips. He'd never felt this way about a man, much less his best friend, but he was so turned on by all this....this beef. It was clear that Coltin was feeling hot too, as Tyler glanced down, his eyes bugging out. He realized that Coltin's body wasn't the only thing that grew. The outline of a giant sausage the size of Tyler's arm was slowly expanding underneath his gym shorts. Tyler was also just noticing how fucking gorgeous his ass was now. He didn't think it was humanly possible to have such a large voluptuous ass that was simultaneously rock hard with muscle. Tyler moaned again and before he could even think about it, he shot a load right there in his jeans as he finally passed out from shock. The last thing he remembered, was the feeling of Coltin's massive hands catching him before he hit the ground. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tyler groggily awoke. He had had the craziest dream that Coltin had exploded into a massive muscle monster. He saw a mass move in the corner of his eye and his eyes shot open. It wasn't a dream. His massive best friend was sitting on their couch waiting for him to come to. "Jesus Christ bro. You just about fill out that whole couch by yourself." exclaimed Tyler. "Heh. Yeah It’s just about the only thing I can fit on these days." "Ok so I have to know. What the fuck happened. Last I was around, you were just working out with those jocks. Did they have something to do with this?" "Fuck yeah man. You should see them now. I look tiny compared to them, but I'll catch up to them eventually.", he smirked. "You mean you're not done!?" shouted Tyler "You're a fucking freak man! You're already past the realm of possibility!" "Hell yeah man. All those guys are pushing past 600 now, but they're growth is starting to taper off, so I know I'll catch up in no time. Anyways. We were all working out over the break when one of the guys walks in looking fucking massive. He had probably gained 60lbs since the last time we had seen him just a few days ago. He then told us what he had discovered. Cum makes him grow." "The fuck?" Tyler said, completely grossed out. The thought of drinking another dude's jizz made him gag. "Just his cum or just cum in general?" That was when Coltin really started smirking "Anyone's. We all tried it out on each other. After we figured it out, it was like a nonstop orgy for weeks, basically. The only reason those guys are so much bigger than me is because they had a head start." Tyler couldn't believe what he was hearing. Coltin wasn't gay. At least he wasn't a few months ago? He then started thinking about earlier when he came at the mere feeling of Coltin's muscular body. Tyler had always been satisfied with his body, but after feeling Coltin's burgeoning muscles, he was kind of curious how it would feel to have that much power on his frame. He then looked back over to Coltin and stared at his mammoth cock, licking his lips slowly. Coltin could see the glint in his eye and just smiled. Tyler got up and made his way over to Coltin and struggled to pull his shorts down over his beefy quads. Coltin's enormous tool sprang free and stood at attention, seemingly beckoning Tyler to service it. He struggled to get his mouth around such a massive instrument and began pumping it in and out. It was so thick and long that he could only get about 6 inches of it down his throat-less than half of it! He heard Coltin's deep voice groan in ecstasy and he felt his cock throb. Next thing he knew, a hot jet of Coltin's jizz was shooting into Tyler's mouth and down into his stomach. He held on tight, not wanting to miss a single drop. You know, just in case Coltin was right about this drinking cum making you grow thing. He ingested so much, he felt his shirt start to tighten around his belly as it filled up with an obscene amount of cum. As the flow seemed to lessen, Tyler removed himself from Coltin's cock and stood up and he heard a sloshing noise. He had so much fucking cum inside of him. He looked down and his belly was bulging out like a frat boy beer belly. He waddled over to the recliner, suddenly really tired and fell into a deep sleep. Coltin stayed exactly where he was. He did not want to miss the show that was about to happen. He smiled to himself, realizing he hadn't told Tyler one last detail. Tyler probably just ingested in one sitting the total amount that Coltin had over the past few months, mainly due to the size of Coltin's baseball size nuts. This meant that Tyler was going to go through a pretty massive growth spurt and Coltin couldn't wait to see it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tyler was awakened by a strange gurgling noise. He sat up and realized that the noise was coming from his bloated belly. Before Tyler could do anything else he felt a burning sensation over his entire body. He glanced over at Coltin who was looking on with extreme interest, eyes twinkling with excitement. He felt his shirt getting tight again. He looked down and gasped when he realized that his belly was slowly growing and it began to feel harder and thicker, like Coltin's had felt. But that wasn't the only thing causing his shirt to get smaller. His once nonexistent pecs were bulging and groaning as they expanded, fighting for the limited space that was underneath his medium size shirt. He felt his back and shoulders sliding across the back of the recliner as his arms seemed to explode with mass. He felt his body being pushed upward by the sudden growth of his butt. By now, his shirt had been absolutely obliterated by his increasing mass. His jeans lost the battle soon after to his increasingly massive thighs and calves. He groaned and marveled at how much deeper his voice had gotten, though it was nowhere near Coltin's boomy voice - yet. Suddenly he heard the poor recliner groaning in protest of the incredible weight that it was now trying to support. Before he could even think about trying to get up, the recliner just disintegrated under him as he plummeted to the floor. Coltin was laughing his ass off at this point, all of his muscles bouncing, but he quickly returned his attention to Tyler because it seemed that he was still not done growing. Tyler was sprawled out on the floor at this point, still expanding. How much more was he going to grow? He had to be nearing Coltin's realm of musculature surely. His back continued to widen and thicken as he could feel it rubbing across the carpet and simultaneously pushing him further off the ground. His chest had long since grown large enough for his entire view in front of him to be obscured, as he lay on the floor. Finally it felt as if his growth was coming to an end. He stood up, with effort, trying to keep his balance. He definitely wasn't used to carrying so much extra weight. He could feel pure power coursing through his body. It was absolutely intoxicating. He clenched and unclenched his fists, watching the cords of muscle in his forearm flex and unflex. He looked to each side and felt like his width stretched at least two feet in either direction. His biceps had to be close to 30 inches. He made eye contact with Coltin and immediately felt something in his unbelievably tight boxers stirring. How they had even managed to stay intact was beyond them. At first he thought he was just getting a hard-on, but it became clear very soon that it was so much more. He felt his cock expand to It’s usual size, but it didn't stop. His cock and balls kept lengthening and thickening, causing the bulge in the front of his boxers to push further and further out until they finally gave in. HIs enormous cock burst free and shot up and smacked right in the middle of the deep valley of his pecs. Coltin practically dove onto Tyler's cock. Because of the transformation that he had just gone through, Coltin barely got his mouth around Tyler's enormous member before he came. And boy did he ever come. Coltin didn't think it would ever stop, but he managed to catch every last drop. Coltin immediately felt the all familiar burning sensation in his muscles. He immediately began to swell even larger with power and muscle. He actually shot up a couple of inches, so that his body could handle the extra mass that it was about to hold. His body widened and thickened all over. Forget doorways. Hallways were going to be an issue from now on. Tyler marveled as Coltin's already massive body just kept pulsing and growing. He heard Coltin's voice drop another octave as if that was even possible. As the growth slowed, Coltin was breathing in and out heavily, causing his enormous pecs to bulge in and out. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They eventually made their way to the scale and weighed themselves. It took some time and work, seeing as neither of them could fit through doors comfortably anymore. Even turning sideways proved to be a problem, because of the thickness of their chests. Tyler's cock hardened instantly as he watched Coltin waddle in front of him, seeing both shoulders grazing both sides of the hallway at the same time. Tyler had gone from a measly 180lbs to an unbelievable 452lbs - just past Coltin's previous weight. Coltin had gained another 200 glorious pounds, pushing him past even his football friends at 650lbs. He was the largest and most powerful human being on the planet. And he knew that his best friend and lover, Tyler would be joining him very soon. University of Memphis was about to have the strongest football team it had ever had. THE END
  6. 23 points
    (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.
  7. 21 points
    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.
  8. 19 points
    From across the street Javier could see the big elder Hank sitting in the restaurant at a table by the front window. Even from this distance it was obvious the guy was huge. Javier could see that the senior muscleman had chosen to wear a white button down that had its buttons undone almost all the way down to his navel. This made his delicious, firm, mega-pecs visible without the aid of binoculars or any other enhanced glassware. The guy’s monstrous chest poked out so far Javier was pretty sure he could have slid his hand into the gaping chasm between the guy’s stomach and the shirt’s material without any problem. Hank probably couldn’t have buttoned the shirt even if he had wanted to. From this distance it was also obvious that the elder man’s biceps were about to burst through the sleeves. The strained cloth was stretched like tight skin. Javier didn’t think it was possible for his cock to get any harder – having thought about nothing all day except this date – but the thing managed to go much more rigid. The young man had to stop for a moment, adjust himself to relieve some of the pain, and then he crossed the street. When he entered the restaurant he had a few seconds to look at Hank without being noticed. Hank was the epitome of muscle daddy-ness. Huge was a word that seemed inadequate if trying to describe the older man. Enormous might be closer . . . or swole, but the plain and simple fact was Hank was the largest man Javier had ever met. The seams of the older man’s shirt looked to be stretched way beyond the bursting point. Javier was confused as to why the shirt didn’t just rip to shreds any time Hank moved. The sleeves of the button down bulged in that way that said, ‘no piece of clothing is going to hide the fact that my biceps are bigger than most men’s waists’ and the traps and shoulders ballooned to the point you would have thought the man was wearing super-sized pads for football. Javier walked slowly to the table and the giant man was up and placing his big hand on the young man’s lower back before a word was spoken. When he stood he dwarfed all the people around him – like Gulliver among the little people. The hand gently, but firmly, led Javier to the chair Hank’s other huge hand had pulled out for him. “Hello gorgeous, let me get your chair for you. I got here twenty minutes early just because I was so excited about being with you. Fuck, boy, you look sexier than an entire college football team bending over nude to grab their ankles. If this weren’t a respectable establishment I’d slam you down on this table and have my way with you right here and right now. Oh shit, sorry dude. It’s probably too soon for me to say something like that, isn’t it. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t I? It’s just that you turn me on so much.” During this entire exchange, Javier had sat down and Hank had basically lifted the chair and the young guy a few inches off the floor to place him back under the table. The big man had picked Javier up as if he had weighed nothing. It was so surreal to be manhandled in such a nonchalant way. It was clear that Hank used his strength and his muscles as easily as most people might flip on a light switch or wave to a friend. Hank also took Javier’s cloth napkin, opened it, and then laid it across the younger man’s lap – making sure the back of his hand brushed hard against Javier’s fully engorged cock. Hank let out an approving grunt-growl that clearly made two ladies sitting nearby get a little wet in their panties and turn dark red with lust. Hank noticed the desire in their eyes, the way both of them bit their lower lip and instantly recognized how smitten they’d become in mere seconds. As he moved back to his table he spoke to them. “Sorry ladies, this big muscle daddy is taken by that chair full of deliciousness right there. Isn’t he beautiful? I wouldn’t even let death, itself, keep me from him.” Javier felt his own face shoot red. Hank’s confidence and openness didn’t bother him – nor did Hank’s masculine way of talking – it was simply because he’d never been referred to as ‘deliciousness’ before and it actually turned him on. When Hank went to sit down, he actually just raised his leg a little and let it come up over the back of the chair – in that ‘I’m too big to do things normally’ kind of way. This simple move elicited a new, exciting feeling somewhere deep inside of Javier. The smaller man understood just how the two women sitting (and still staring) nearby felt – he was completely smitten with the huge Hank, as well. Hank was now sitting down with his napkin draped across his lap. “So, let me get a better look at you, little man. Hell yeah, you’re even more handsome than this afternoon. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a second, beautiful Javster. I was so worked up I thought about provoking a fight with some biker gang to work off a little steam, but I just unloaded about fifty bags of sand at the site by myself to get my body calm.” “Did that work, Hank?” “For about thirty minutes and then I was all hot and bothered again. Kind of like I’m feeling right now. Damn, boy, that face of yours could launch a hell of a lot more ships than that dame from Troy. You are one good looking dude.” “And you are one freaking huge, handsome dude, yourself, Hank.” “I guess you can see I’m not a big fan of buttons. I figure if you’re this huge why hide it, right? Besides, I love it when I catch people’s gaze glued to my giant chest just like yours is right now, Javier.” “Um . . . sorry about that, Hank.” “Why, son? What other reason is there to be this huge if it’s not to show off.” “I couldn’t agree more. Tell me about yourself, Hank.” “Well, I’m a freakishly massive grampa – having sired eight children with a lovely woman that passed away about ten years ago. I got married young, cause that’s what you did back then, but I always knew women weren’t my thing. I liked young bucks who were tight and small. I waited the appropriate amount of time after Sophia died, came out proudly to my children, and then started plucking gorgeous boys from the bars - literally, carrying them home, and making up for lost time. I’ve sowed my wild oats a few times over, kid, and now I like to romance cute things for weeks or months, driving them crazy with so much muscle foreplay that by the time we actually get in bed together their entire body had turned purple from the teasing and edging. The only thing I’m better at than sex is working out . . . oh, and business. I scare people at the gym when I lift, cause I’m so powerful and aggressive. Nobody expects a man as old as me to be so strong and big. I’m confident as shit, but I try not to be cocky.” “I like cocky, Hank. I, um, think a man as big as you can’t help but be cocky. And a man . . . uh, as handsome.” “My salt and pepper hair gets your pants swelling, does it, Jav?” “Yes sir, and a little wet.” “Then I bet the white dusting across my mammoth hard pecs is making your toes curl, isn’t it.” “Yes.” And then, to intensify the situation even more, Hank leaned back, raised his monstrous arms, linked his hands behind his head, which caused his shirt to open even more – revealing more of the deep chasm between his hefty mounds and allowing the light from the candle at the center of the table to enhance the silver fur beautifully splayed across his chest. Another woman sitting nearby with her husband let out an uncontrolled appreciative gasp and Javier quickly noticed all eyes on the restaurant were on the handsome man across the table. Two waiters crashed into each other because they were looking at the elder man instead of where they were going. Dishes fell to the ground and this caused Hank to chuckle a little – clearly he was used to this kind of adoration. He quickly lowered his arms before causing any more accidents. The man had gotten the response had had wanted – both from his date and the people surrounding him. There was an intoxicating sparkle in Hank’s eye as he continued to stare at Javier. That warm feeling that had covered he and his friends when they had been in the cave with the golden orb again surrounded the smaller man. “I think we were always destined to meet, little Jav.” “I think so, too, sir.” “It’s as if some magical force has brought us together.” “You have no idea, Hank.” “What’s that?” “Nothing. I just think its fate, that’s all.” “Well, in all my years of bar hopping I haven’t landed on anyone as cute as you, Javier, and I get the feeling I’ve never met anyone so into cured muscle beef. I may be a senior citizen, man, but I’ve got the body and stamina of a huge college football player. My libido is about even with someone that age, too. I’m thinking our next date might be you coming with me to the gym so you could watch me work out.” “Oh god, yes.” “Tomorrow, I do arms – if that interests you?” “Um . . . that’s my favorite part of a big muscle man.” “Really? Then you’ve probably noticed my twenty-seven inch guns, haven’t you?” “The minute I met you. They’re kind of hard to miss.” “Wait until you see them pumped up and covered in sweat. I can get ‘em as big as mountains.” “I think they’re already that big, sir.” “I’m really glad you’re an arm man, Javier, cause that’s my favorite part of my body to show off. Well, that and my chest. But you probably have already figured that out. Why don’t you reach over here and get a good feel of my mountain, Javy-boy.” “I don’t think that’s a very good idea . . . right here in the middle of the restaurant.” “Why not? No one’s gonna say anything. Hell, you’d be getting to do what everyone else in here wants to do. Come on, kid, let me show you what a real muscle daddy feels like.” Hank’s meaty hand swallowed Javier’s smaller hand resting on the table. He squeezed a little and then tugged the smaller man’s hand, arm, and body toward his side of the table. Hank smashed Javier’s hand against the biceps and then squeezed tightly. Javier immediately noticed that his hand was puny compared to the giant mound beneath it – but it was also puny compared to the big mitt holding it in place. Hardness was the only message that was getting to the younger man’s brain at that moment. He was baffled at how skin and muscle could feel so freaking much like stone or marble. Hank was squeezing so hard that there was a little pain, but Javier didn’t mind. He loved it. He had always dreamed of a strong muscle daddy squeezing different parts of his body to show off his strength. “It’s so hard.” “Hell yeah, it’s hard, Javier. My dad bought me my first weight set when I was ten years old. That means I’ve been lifting iron for over fifty-five years. That’s a lot of time for breaking down muscle and then re-building it – stronger, thicker, and harder. You’re feeling what hundreds of thousands of hours of cranking out reps can do to a man, especially a man that was already big to begin with and took to weightlifting like a fish in water. I could beat my Pop in arm wrestling by the time I was fourteen. I used to force him to flex his arm beside me when I was in high school just so I could see how much bigger my gun was compared to his - a grown man. I think he secretly loved having a son that was huge. He also liked to make me practice my wrestling moves with him, just so he could feel how strong I was. He loved it most when I would pick up his body and toss him onto the mat. By that point a fully grown man felt as light as a feather to me.” “Um . . . Hank, can I have my hand back. I can’t feel my fingers. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that people are staring.” Hank let out a loud chuckle and then looked around, grinning teasingly at the other patrons. He applied a little more manly pressure to his grip, which caused Javier to exhale loudly, and then the big man removed his huge paw from the little hand beneath. The younger man didn’t remove his aching palm and fingers immediately; he wanted to get one last memorable grope of the unyielding mound of rock-hard muscle beneath. When he did finally remove his hand he shook it out a few times before laying it in his lap. “Hope I didn’t squeeze too hard, little fella. I sometimes forget that everyone else is not as big and strong as I am.” “No . . . no, it’s fine. I . . . um . . . actually like it when a big man uses a powerful grip with me. I . . . uh . . . like a guy to remind me how strong he is. I hope I’m not over sharing. Maybe this is too much information for a first date. “Hell no, Javier, that’s not over sharing! That’s the kind of information this old man loves to hear. It’s first date conversation when you’re with a man like me. I like a guy that appreciates and desires a little pain. I hate having to be so delicate with some guys. One of my sure ways of knowing a guy is worth dating is when he says he likes bear hugs, getting his head squeezed by a biceps and forearm, and being trapped between two huge thighs. How do those sound to you, baby doll?” “It sounds so good that if we don’t steer the conversation in another direction, Hank, there’s going to be a mess under the table.” “Whoa, we can’t have you messing up those cute tight pants you’re wearing, now can we? Let’s look at the menu to get our mind off of all things muscle, shall we?” “That sounds like a good plan.” “We can do some of those more boring first-date questions to help us both calm down a little. So, tell me about your family. Brothers? Sisters?” “Um . . . no, I’m an only child and both my parents passed away a few years ago.” “Sorry to hear that, Javier.” “Thanks. I’ve got a few cousins that I’m kind of close to, but really my family consists of my two best friends from college, Jason and Michael. Michael’s in Atlanta and Jason’s in Los Angeles, but I see them pretty regularly. We’re pretty inseparable.” “Are Jason and Michael as cute as you?” “Oh, much more handsome…” “I don’t think that’s possible.” It was one of those moments when the conversation stopped and the two men stared intently at each other. The chemistry between them was so strong you could have cut it with a knife. Javier’s stomach did flip-flops every time Hank’s huge frame moved in any way – emphasizing his enormous muscle each time. To hear the big man say compliments was like icing on the cake. The smaller man had no idea, however, that the Tank was feeling the same way. The behemoth had already ticked off so many things he usually looked for when debating if there would be a second date, he figured the sexy Javier was destined to be much more than a long-term relationship. The young dude loved muscle, older dudes, a little pain, and groping big bodies. It didn’t get much better than that. “You better watch it, little man, I’m starting to like you. I’m starting to like you a lot.” “Then that makes two of us, big guy.” “Whoa, there, we’re taking the conversation back to something a little too stimulating, if you get my drift. Let’s try some more first-date questions. How did you, Jason, and Michael get so close?” “That’s actually a very funny story – and quite appropriate for tonight. We were all three assigned to the same three-bedroom apartment in college for our freshman year. On our first night of school we had all unpacked, shared a few beers, and then made up excuses to head out separately for the night. About thirty minutes later we all bumped into each other at a bar called ‘Daddy’s Gym.’ Don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it, but it’s pretty popular in D.C. It’s a place where muscle daddies and those that love them go to meet. The three of us had individually been planning for a long time to go there as soon as we hit college. We ended up sitting at the bar and sharing our fantasies about older musclemen and bonding beyond belief. We’ve been family ever since.” “Man, the muscle gods put the three of you in the right place at the right time, didn’t they?” “Kind of like this morning, when I passed your worksite.” “Yeah, just like that. So, how long have you known you loved older muscle?” “It goes back to the man that sent me through puberty – when I was about eleven years old. I probably knew something about myself before then, but it was confirmed in a big way. I had a neighbor that was an amateur bodybuilder and strongman competitor. He was probably in his forties at the time, a bachelor that lived alone in the house beside us. Now I know he was gay, but I didn’t know of such things at the time. My second floor bedroom overlooked his back deck and one day I glanced out and caught him working out. I sat there mesmerized – watching his bulging sweat-covered muscles as he lifted weights, stretched, and then practiced some strength feats. At one point – about thirty minutes into his workout – he started doing some curls to work his biceps. As soon as my hormone-crazy body saw his big arms swell even larger I exploded like the final fireworks display for a Fourth of July celebration. It was such a powerful ejaculation that I actually passed out. I was only gone for a few seconds and when I came back to reality I finished watching my neighbor complete his exercises. That experience turned into a weekly event – since he worked out in his backyard every Saturday. My parents thought it weird that I would want to always be home by 3:30pm on that day, but I convinced them I was studying. And I was – studying my neighbor’s anatomy and learning all about beating off. By the way, years later I bumped into that guy at a gay bar and he told me he had noticed me watching him that first day. He said he loved the attention and figured he was helping me transition into adulthood. We went home together that night – he still lived in the house beside my old one – and we had a great time.“ “Was he still in good shape?” “Compared to you or me? If you, then no – he wasn’t. But compared to me, yeah, he was still big and muscular.” “That’s kind of a hot story, Javier. So, you’ve always been into older men since then?” “Older, yes, but they also had to be big . . . you know, muscular and strong.” “What is it about older musclemen that gets you so excited, Jav?” “Oh Hank, I’ve had almost twenty years to figure that out. I have perfected my answer. First, it’s security. Being with a big man helps me to let my guard down. I feel protected, safe, and able to be myself. Second, it’s the power. I know that’s related to the first, but it’s more. It is knowing the dude is powerful, but it’s also about getting to witness . . . and feel that power. That goes hand-in-hand with getting to feel the big muscles, too. And last, it’s the experience that comes with age. I dated a few big guys that were young and they just didn’t know how to please me the same way older dudes do. Younger guys sometimes aren’t confident enough or they don’t care at all about the other person. A man with some years has figured out how to please himself and his partner at the same time. An older guy that has been with numerous partners has learned many things and all that wisdom comes into the bedroom. I need a man that can lead and follow. That’s learned through experience – and doesn’t come naturally to any guy. I should also point out that in the process I have learned how to appreciate and please an elder muscleman, as well.” “Have you now? And how do you do that? What do you think a big guy like me wants?” “Honesty, for starters. A gorgeous huge man in his mid-sixties like you doesn’t want to play games. You’re looking for a guy that tells you what he likes and isn’t afraid to try new things, too. You also want someone that will let you take the lead. You’ve gotten big because you want to be in control. Yes, you can let others lead, at times, but you get turned on the most when you’re directing a younger guy and helping him to experience new things. You’re looking for a guy that will allow you to show off your body and your power at all times. You want him to let you open doors for him, carry his bags when your shopping, and intimidate the shit out of any man that dares to bully him in any way. Your muscles don’t bulge for your own enjoyment. Yes, you can appreciate them and like to look at them, but having a younger dude salivate as your biceps tease the sleeves of your shirt to near ripping is much more fun. I wouldn’t be surprised if you loved muscle worship as much as all the smaller guys that love groping you.” “How did you get into my head, Javier? I’m so jacked right now I’m scared the table is going to rise in the air and give away my excitement. Why aren’t you taken, little man? If you know all of that about big elder dudes, why hasn’t one scooped you up yet?” “Many have tried, Hank, but no one’s been up to the challenge. No one was able to keep up with me for the long haul.” “That sounds like a challenge.” “Take it as you will, sir. I’m feeling things tonight I’ve never felt before, so I’m going ‘all in’ and laying all my cards on the table. I’ve got nothing to lose because already the night has been magical. Feeling your huge gun gave me enough jack-off material for maybe a year, so even if this ends tonight, I’ll have no regrets.” “You’re either the devil or an angel – you know so much about what I like and what I need.” “Maybe I’m a little of both.” Thankfully, the meal was delivered at that moment. Both men were glad to have the rest from all the sexual banter. Little did they know that under the table were two of the hardest boners in the history of the world. Stars were colliding, continents were shifting, and herds of wild animals were stampeding for no reason – that’s what this connection of two souls felt like. Neither man could even begin to comprehend how much the other met his wildest dreams, but they were about to find out. “What do you do, Javier?” “You mean besides older men with huge muscles?” “Yes, I mean for a living.” “I sold a software engineering start-up company about three years ago. I won’t need to work again for the rest of my life, but I still go in each day and help my old company out as a consultant. I like to keep busy. And you do construction.” “Well, that’s how I spend my time between dates with cute young things, but if you really want to know, I own the company – MD Construction.” “Man, I know that company, Hank. Your signs are everywhere. You must be one of the biggest construction outfits in town.” “The biggest. Kind of like my arms.” “What does MD stand for?” “I’ve never told anyone the truth. I’ve always said it was for my two grandfathers Marvin and David, but it’s really the abbreviation for Muscle Daddy Construction. When I started the company forty years ago, I had already turned myself into a huge beast. I knew my goal, however, was to one day be a silver-haired muscled fox that pleased little dudes nightly. You have no idea how freeing it is to tell you that.” “And you have to idea, Hank, how pleased I am to hear it. Now it’s your turn, by the way, why do you like young men so much? You could have anyone you wanted.” “You nailed it earlier, Javier. I want someone I can take care of. I don’t mean I’m looking for a puppy. I want the guy to be independent, self sufficient, and his own man, but I also want him to be able to give control over to me. I want him to allow me to use my huge muscles and my experience to please him. I want every weight I lift to be about becoming more of that elder muscleman he desires. I want to make him feel so safe that all of his dreams are only about me. I want to help him not have a care in the world. I want to please him – sexually, emotionally, intellectually, and even spiritually. I’m a big man, Javier. I want the dude I’m with to know how big I am every second of the day. I want him to rely on my power and my size. You know, for simple things – like moving furniture and opening up stubborn tops to jars – but also for important things, too – like scaring the crap out of anyone that takes advantage of my boy, fulfilling his every need in the bedroom, and giving him a massive body to worship until he’s the happiest guy on the planet. How’s that for an answer.” “Now who’s in whose head! You just described most of the fantasies I’ve ever had from that first day I blasted a load to my hunky elder neighbor. Hank, I know we’ve only known each other for less than twenty-four hours, but I feel like we’ve known each other for a lot longer. And I feel like you really know me. Tell me something that you know will turn me on.” “Okay, let’s see. Oh, I know. At the end of each workday, two or three of my team come and challenge me to a wrestling match. No group has ever beaten me, but after twenty years they’re still taking me on. We move to an open area in the worksite and strip down to just our pants. That was their idea and I think some of them just wanted to feel my uncovered muscles.” “Who wouldn’t want to feel that?” “Exactly. So, they used to charge one at a time and I had a blast either stopping them in their tracks by just letting them run into my chest and abs or I grabbed their bodies and tossed them to the side. That really pissed them off because most guys do not like to go soaring through the air a few feet.” “I must not be like most guys. You can toss me anytime.” “I’ll remember that, Javy. This big man likes to toss little fellas around. Anyway, now the team has gotten smart and they all run at me at the same time. I love this even more because I either let them all jump on me and then wait a few seconds before I shrug them off easily or I grab the first guy that gets to me and I use his body as a weapon, spinning him around to knock the other guys down. We used to wrestle for about thirty minutes, mainly because I wanted them to feel like they were a little bit of a challenge, but now I usually just dispense with all of them in about five to ten minutes. They always get discouraged by how easily I defeat them, but they continue to ask me to wrestle them every day – in hopes that they’ll win. It’s cute how they go home each day like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the next day they’re all positive with confidence that this will be when they beat me.” “You know you’re going to have to let me watch that one day.” “I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t asked. Turn about is fair play, Javier, tell me something that will turn me on.” “That’s easy. I’ll squirt like a fountain if you stand in front of a full-length mirror and lift me up and down over your head. Watching you get off on your own strength as you press me up and down will make me explode like you’ve never seen. If you stop mid-press, when your biceps are sticking out to the sides and flex them even higher I get an even bigger thrill.” “Oh. My. God.” “Told you, big man. I’ve got nothing to lose if I tell you the truth about everything. I know what huge musclemen like and I get the feeling I know you better than anyone else, before. Testosterone oozes out of you like a boner-causing cologne. It causes me to go wild – like a cat in heat. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” “Oh, I think I can handle whatever you have to offer, Javier. Your cuteness may make me weak at the knees, but even in my weakest state I’m stronger than most men put together.” “I’m banking on it, Hank.” By this time the two men were eating dessert. The meal had gone quickly, mainly because they were so swept up into each other. Javier was getting a little sad because he knew that soon they would say goodnight and go their separate ways. Hank had made it very clear that he liked to string a guy along for a little while, just to make him get even more excited about their eventual first night of sex. Javier had a feeling that Hank was going to go even slower this time, making sure to edge Javier in ways the little guy had never even dreamed. Hank clearly picked up on Javier’s sadness. “If it helps, know that I’ll beat off thinking about your at least a couple of times tonight.” “That does help, Hank. And I’m sure you know I’ll be doing the same many blocks away.” “Yep, and I’m pretty sure it will be the memory of touching my humongous biceps the first time that will send you over the edge.” “You know me so well. Already. I do have one favor, though.” “Name it, Javier.” “I want a really powerful bear hug outside before we say goodnight.” “How powerful? You wanna have a little backache tomorrow to remember me by or do you wanna have to have me lift you into a cab to take you home and then crawl up the steps to your place. I can control my hugs to your specifications. I promise.” “Let’s give the control to you, Hank. You decide what kind of hug I get.” The check came and Javier instinctively knew not to reach for it. It was important to yield to the big man – especially since he had done the inviting. Hank noticed the young man’s restraint and it impressed him. It was clear that Javier had taken care of himself for many years – especially after his parents had passed away. It was also pretty evident that the young man had a lot of money – his clothes, shoes, and watch screamed wealth, but not in an obnoxious way. Hank’s raging hard-on was twitching even more at the thought of this strong-willed cute man letting him take the lead. “I can make you feel like a prince, Javier.” “You already do, Hank. I can make you feel bigger and stronger than you already do, sir.” “That’s probably not possible, but I understand what you mean.” This comment made Javier smile. By this point the check had been paid, and Hank had pushed back his chair from the table. He stood up and immediately Javier noticed the unusually large outline of the big man’s hard member. It actually made the younger man gulp out loud. This, in turn, made Hank smile. “Being with you is probably going to cause me to get arrested for indecent exposure and I won’t even have to take off any clothes.” Javier stood up. He was immediately aware that Hank was looking down at his crotch – to see what was happening. Hank’s widening eyes and open mouth pleased Javier immensely. Yes, he was a smaller guy than the elder giant, but that didn’t mean he had to be small in all areas. His own super hard meat was thicker and probably a tad longer than the big man across the table. Hank gulped loudly on purpose, just to show Javier how much he approved of what he saw. “I also know how to use it, Hank. I know how to use it really well.” “I’ve never bottomed, Javy, but maybe you could teach me how.” “Oh my god, you’re kidding.” “Nope. I guess it’s still from my supposed straight days. I was married for so long that I got used to plowing. My wife loved it super hard, so I got a lot of practice for later on.” “I’ll teach you how to be a controlling bottom, Hank – how about that?” “I’d love it. I think I’ll especially love practicing.” By this time they were outside the restaurant – having caused quite a scene as they walked through the place with what seemed like logs in their pants. One lady actually fanned herself as they walked by. No, out on the sidewalk, they were still getting stares – especially Hank, because of his enormous size and muscles. Javier clearly noticed how people stared and ran into things because they weren’t watching. “You get used to it, Javier. I sometimes don’t even notice people staring, unless I’m doing something to show off. Then I love looking around and seeing their faces.” “Well, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being around your huge body, that’s for sure.” Hank took that as a cue to move in for what he knew the little man truly wanted. Hank stepped in front of Javier, bent his knees, wrapped his arms around the little guy’s torso, and then easily stood up. A guy walking by gasped out loud and almost ran into a light pole. Javier exhaled loudly – mainly because Hank’s hug pushed all of the air out of his body. Javier was surrounded by harness. Every muscle in Hank’s frame must have felt like solid rock. It was the most exciting and secure feeling Javier had ever felt. Hank started squeezing tighter and the younger man could feel parts of his body adjusting to accommodate the pressure. Soon there was a jolting pain to Javier’s torso and it caused him to let out a slight moan of pleasure. This caused Hank to smile even more and he brought his face down to give Javier a prickly goatee kiss – manly and gentle at the same time. Javier jumped at the chance to kiss the big man back – using his mouth in the same way that had always gotten him compliments in the past. Javier was known to be one of the best kissers in town – well, at least among all the people he had ever dated. It was Hank’s turn to moan – a little louder, though – as he experienced Javier special gift. After about a minute, Hank pulled his face back – worried that his body was going to erupt from the pleasure he was feeling from Javier’s mouth. “Where in the hell did you learn to kiss like that?” “I’ve had a lot of practice. Um, Hank, not that I’m complaining, but I’m beginning to not feel my legs, so when you put me down don’t let go too quickly.” “Oh, sorry, too hard?” “No, it’s perfect, I just don’t want to end up lying on the sidewalk.” Hank lessened the pressure in his arms and let Javier’s body slide down his own. The smaller man’s face smacked into the massive pecs before him and then settled into the mammoth crevice between them. Hank held Javier in this exact place for a little while – both to give him some time to recover from the bear hug and to excite him even more. He finally sensed that Javier was okay and he released him – noticing that the young man teetered a little and then strengthened his stance. Hank stepped back and looked down at the cute man, who was staring upward with a giant smile. “Not even a fraction of your total strength was it?” “Nope.” “I’ll have to work my way up to at least half.” “I’d never hurt you, Javier, but we can keep increasing the bear hug power. Maybe we can come up with a ‘safe’ word that you can use to get me to stop.” “More.” “That defeats the purpose of a safe word, little man.” “I know.” This made Hank laugh out loud. His mammoth chest bounced up and down and Javier’s gaze was transfixed. Both men stared at each other for a full minute after the laughter had ended. Somehow, each of them knew something magical was starting at this moment. Javier desperately wanted to sleep in Hank’s enormous arms that night, but he knew it was for the best to go their separate ways. Hank felt the same way. Neither man wanted to be the first to go, but finally the elder muscleman took control. “Goodnight, Javier. Meet me at Paddy’s Gym on twenty-third tomorrow at six. We could do a quick dinner after you watch me workout – if that’s good for you.” “Being around you is always going to be good for me. Goodnight, Hank, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before he turned to walk away Javier reached up and placed both of his hands on the humongous pecs in front of his face. Hank immediately tensed the muscles and everything went super hard. Javier drew his hands back and after making fists punched both pecs teasingly. Their hardness made the younger man’s fingers hurt a little and this turned him on. He looked up into Hank’s face, smiled, and then turned to walk away. “By the way, Javier, I curl about two times your weight. I just thought you’d want to know.” Javier did not turn back around. He merely held up his hand and waved goodbye over his shoulder. At the same time he shook his head, signifying he was in awe of the big man. Hank brought his fingers up to his mouth and whistled loudly – making a few people on the other side of the street stop. It even made Javier pause for a few seconds, but then he continued on. Hank called out, cementing his place as a construction worker. “Nice ass, little fella.”
  9. 16 points
    When I was 215 and about 8% body fat I would frequently get asked if I was a competitive bodybuilder and get asked to flex and asked to take off my shirt in bars I would get felt up and groped. My chest arms and delts would get grabbed, poked, you name it i was introduced to intimidation by a girl actually who dressed us up for a Halloween party where we went as gladiators- she gave me boots that made me six inches taller for the costume. Being muscular to the point that people noticed and made comments was one thing but adding six inches of height and now being 6ft 6 inches AND muscular was unreal. My chest always got attention so the height difference being such that my chest was now in most peoples faces made me hard as a rock and horny as hell. I was surrounded by a group of people who were all around 5’6” to 5’9” when one of them asked me to flex. It was the most outrageous rush as I looked down at them admiring my double biceps pose. I felt so dominant and alpha. That night we didn’t even make it into my apartment before we started fucking and we fucked the sh*t out of each other that night. When I compete the next time around my goal is going to be to find a smaller skinny twink or even a muscular jock as long as he’s shorter to dominate like the way William Seed and his roommate dominate the small skinny guys in that one porno where they catch the skinny guys spying on them (forget the name). I must experience this.
  10. 15 points
    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.
  11. 14 points
    "Vintage Oscar, Jason, very nice.” “And I see Sebastian chose Tom Ford, sexy as hell.” The two men had met out in front of the concert hall. Even in the big crowd Jason had been able to find Sebastian quickly. The man’s gorgeous silver hair stood out among the crowd – especially in a sea of black tuxes. It was as if there were a hundred spotlights on the tops of neighboring buildings all pointed at the elder man. Also, there was the mustache. That pornographic weapon of lust, which, alone, made Jason’s cock ache like hell. The elder man was clearly manicured and cultured, but in a way that was still rough and sexy in what was a definite masculine way. He wasn’t a Botoxed plastic doll, he was all natural. And then there was the way his obviously muscled framed filled out even a tux. You could still tell he had muscles under all that glorious clothing. He bulged in all the right places and moved in that slow, determined way that bodybuilders moved – clearly thick and heavy from all the meat he was packing. When arms bulge noticeably through the sleeves of a jacket you know a guy is jacked. When it was an elder man jacked to the hilt; that only made the younger man happier. When Sebastian saw Jason walking up he broke into the sexiest grin the younger man had ever seen. White, white teeth popped out among the sea of people and Jason’s knees felt like wet spaghetti for a few seconds. It also seemed like all the massive bulges beneath the tux grew bigger, which made another bulge in Jason’s pants get bigger, too. “Good evening. You know, Jason, you looked very handsome today at work and now you’re even more good looking in your tux. I have a feeling you look hot in anything you wear.” “And any man that still looks big and hard as hell in a tux, must have a super fine body underneath, Mr. Sebastian.” “I do love tuxes – especially on dates. They make for good foreplay when you return home. It takes so long to take them off and it can increase the appetite, as they say. Shall we go in, sir?” Sebastian held out his arm so Jason could loop his within it. It was a simple move that somehow made the younger man extremely comfortable and protected at the same time. The more mature man taking charge of the situation and letting everyone know he had a cute young man as his date. As he reached out, Jason squeezed Sebastian’s arm just to cop a feel of the hard muscle underneath. The elder man immediately noticed and tensed his biceps at the same time to give Jason a thrill. “Are you into muscle, my friend?” “Only when it is on a hot daddy.” “It took me a while to embrace all of my daddy potential, Jason. I think it was because I associated being older with being put out to pasture. It wasn’t until I got the perfect mustache that I realized how hot an elder man can be.” “That, sir, is one freaking sexy strip of daddy fur. I bet it feels real nice in a passionate kiss.” The young man taking tickets glanced up as the two men approached and the kid’s mouth dropped open wide in clear and unashamed lust for the silver-haired fox that was walking up with his date. The poor guy didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at Sebastian’s huge body – his hand outstretched and open. The elder man placed two tickets in the open palm, but the ticket taker still did not move. He seemed to be in some catatonic state – caused by the handsome senior muscleman in front of him. Sebastian reached back out, tore the tickets in two and then placed half of them back in the still unmoving hand. It was clear that Sebastian was used to this kind of reaction. He led Jason into the magnificent lobby of the opera center and continued the conversation as if nothing had happened. “Maybe you’d like to find out sometime.” “I think you already know the answer to that. Have you always been big and muscular, Sebastian?” “No, I was rather sickly as a child and all the way through high school. In college I met a guy that changed my life. My dad thought it would be important for me to be part of a work-study program in school – even though he paid cash for all four years. He was just always into me learning the ‘lessons of life’ - as he called them. I wonder to this day if he actually planned what assignment I would get – knowing it would change my life. He’s a very perceptive and sensitive man. You wouldn’t know it from working with him, but he really is gentle and a good father. Anyway, I was assigned to Jackson Peters – head of maintenance for the entire university. I was there to help him do his department’s budgets and finances – since I was going to be an international business major. Well, when I went down to the guy’s office in the basement of the administration building I got the shock of my life. Jackson Peters was actually called ‘Jocko’ because he was about six feet three inches tall and built like Lou Ferrigno – you know the professional bodybuilder who turned into an actor? “Trust me, Sebastian, I know who Lou Ferrigno is. The man has caused me to lose more loads than I can remember.” “Well, Jocko, took an instant liking to me. I’m sure it had to do with the way I helped his department get their books in order and look really good for his bosses, but it probably had more to do with the way I stared at his body all the time. He could tell I was smitten with his size and his obvious strength. He used to bend stuff just to entertain his staff. Well, long story short, Jocko decided to take me under his wing and show me how to work out. But the dude wasn’t just into weightlifting, he was also into martial arts, tai chi, meditation, and so much more. I learned more about life in the basement of the administration building over those four years than I did in all my classes put together. I’m pretty sure Jocko knew that I was gay right from the start, but our relationship never strayed in that direction. He was married with about eight children, and although I know he grew to love me, it was more like a son or a protégé. He helped me turn my body into what you see today. I owe him a lot. I get back to the university every now and then to visit him. He still works out and visits the campus, but he retired years ago. I’ve worked hard to maintain a healthy lifestyle ever since my time with Jocko.” “I’d say you’ve done a good job. And kudos to Jocko.” That’s when the lights dimmed and the opera began. Sebastian reached over and grabbed Jason’s hand, holding it through the entire show – even during intermission when the lights were up and people noticed. The big man’s thick fingers intertwined in Jason’s did something to the younger man. It made him calmer than he could ever remember being before. He wasn’t nervous about the date in any way. He also felt really empowered in some way – to be more himself than he ever had been in his entire life. He laughed more freely, spoke more honestly, and showed his appreciation of the older man beside him more openly. He stroked the man’s hand with his own fee hand. He leaned his head on Sebastian’s shoulder during the really sad parts of the show. And he allowed the larger man to lead him without any hesitation. Sebastian would put his hand on Jason’s lower back to lead him through the crowd and Jason followed the lead like they were in some kind of incredible dance. Every now and then Sebastian would bring Jason’s hand up to his face and kiss it, making sure the sturdy bristles of his sexy mustache brushed against it firmly. It was clearly a sign of what was to come. When the opera was over, they both agreed that it was not the season’s best, but that being there with each other had probably made it one of the most memorable. “I have an idea, Sebastian. I know we were planning to go out to dinner, but I happen to be an excellent cook. I’m not bragging, I’ve just been obsessed with the Food Network for years, and it’s taught me a lot. Maybe it would be more fun if we went to my place and I made you dinner.” “That sounds perfect, but my loft apartment is two blocks away, so it might be more fun if we went there. I’m sure I have everything you would need to cook us a wonderful meal and it would be a lot faster. And right now, I’d like to be alone with you as quickly as possible. What do you think about that plan?” “Lead the way, sir. Lead the way.” Again, Sebastian held out his arm and Jason joyfully linked his through. There was the now obligatory groping of the hard biceps, which was, in turn, tensed even harder to give the younger man some pleasure. They walked in silence for a about a minute as Jason continued to massage the hard mound of muscle under the tuxedo jacket. When Sebastian spoke next he didn’t look down at his date, he stared forward and continued to walk. “Will you kiss it later, Jason? I love it when guys kiss my biceps.” “Kiss it, lick it, bite it, massage it – whatever you want, sir. I hope you’ll kiss it, too, Sebastian. That turns me on.” Jason had not hesitated at all when answering Sebastian. He hadn’t needed to. The question had seemed so natural, so normal, and almost as if the younger man had expected it. Sebastian smiled at the answer – and the fact that there hadn’t been any hesitation. He had a very good feeling about the young man attached to his arm. He had a better feeling about the fact that Jason was trying desperately to squeeze – even slightly – his big hard tensed biceps. “I’ll be glad to kiss it. That big thing’s no giving in at all, is it? No matter how hard you squeeze.” “It’s like someone put cloth over marble. I can’t wait to see the thing free of all restraints and flexed hard.” “Well, you won’t have to wait too long - here we are.” “Um . . . this isn’t a loft apartment, Sebastian, it’s an entire building.” “Well, yes it is . . . but it also houses my office, a gym, and a yoga center, so technically only the third and fourth floor are my apartment.” “I need to take note of how you hide the full truth, sir. It might help me understand you more fully in the future.” “Fair enough, but know that if you ever ask me a direct question I will always answer truthfully.” “Yes?” “I promise.” “Then here’s one – do you like to flex your hard body for younger guys?” “I find it the most stimulating foreplay I’ve ever experienced, Jason. Why do you ask?” “Because I find almost nothing in the world as exciting as worshipping a big older muscleman as he flexes.” “The yoga studio and the gym have floor to ceiling mirrors.” “That news almost made me cum, but first I feed you, so you’ll have stamina to keep up with me throughout the night, Sebastian.” “I look forward to the meal, Jason, but – trust me – I have the stamina of a hundred men put together. I think you make me that way.”
  12. 13 points
    Catfished Custom story request from a supporter on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/MuscleNexus. I released it a while ago there, but I wanted to post it here for all of you as well. On Patreon there are little bonuses like illustrations/morphs to go with the story and lots of content that I don't post anywhere else. Thanks for reading! Tags: SFW, muscle growth, forced growth, getting hairy Rory swiped left. Again, and again, and again. “No, too old.” Swipe left. “No, too hairy.” Swipe left. “No, too much roids.” Swipe left. This was his nightly routine on tinder. Maybe once a week he found another man just like him: small, smooth, and slightly effeminate. But mostly he just said no to all the men that popped up on his app. “There are too many damn bears in this city,” he’d think angrily to himself before grabbing his average cock and settling in for another lonely night. ‘There’s no one new around you,’ declared Rory’s phone. He sighed dramatically, placed his phone on his coffee table and unzipped his skinny jeans. Before he even had a chance to fish out his semi-erect manhood one more face popped onto his screen. ‘Buck, 21 years old, only half a mile away.’ Rory sneered at the overly masculine name, but was intrigued. The man was everything Rory was into. Lean body with barely any muscle or athletic definition. No body hair, beard, or tattoos. And to top it all off, the man’s bio said ‘twinks to the top of the list.’ Rory swiped right. The match was instant. “Hey stud,” Buck messaged. Stud? Nobody had called Rory that before, but it didn’t matter, he was getting action tonight. “Hi. What’s up.” Rory replied. “This is it. Why don’t you come on over?” Normally Rory would’ve been put off by the man’s directness, but he was lonely and horny so he just said “sure.” *** Thirty minutes later Rory was standing in front of Buck’s apartment door. He was surprised to find that the clean cut man named Buck was living in a rougher part of town. His apartment building was old, not well maintained, and adjacent to a row of warehouses. Nevertheless, Rory was committed. Standing in front of the door he was irritated to smell cigarette smoke. “Wasn’t that illegal in most apartment buildings these days?” He smoothed his hair with his hands one more time and then knocked delicately on the door. Silence at first. Then he heard a creaking noise, what sounded like someone getting out of a squeaky couch or armchair. A few footsteps thudded from behind the door and then it opened. “Hullo little guy.” Buck grinned down at Rory. Rory stood stunned for a moment, taking in the site of the hairy behemoth that stood before him. Buck was short but exceptionally thick. Broad hairy shoulders sloped into a thick corded neck and a wide rugged face, partially obscured by a big but well groomed beard. Buck had a fat cigar sticking out of his mouth with a fragrant stream of smoke rising from it that Rory had mistook for cigarette smoke. Rory’s confusion turned to anger and quickly spat out “fucking catfish” and turned to leave. Buck gently but firmly grabbed the smaller man’s shoulder and turned him to face him again. He calmly blew a cloud of cigar smoke into his face. Rory grimaced in disgust and tried to turn away, but not before inhaling a lungful of the smoke. His eyes instantly watered and he became lightheaded. His thoughts slowed. “Where ya going little guy?” Buck said gruffly with a half smile. “I… I don’t know.” Rory concentrated, trying to remember. But his thoughts were slow and he suddenly felt safe with the big bear standing before him. “Wanna come in for a drink?” Rory nodded slowly and looked up pathetically at Buck. “Attaboy. Make yourself comfortable.” Rory stepped cautiously into the apartment. It was tidy and minimalistic. The furniture was large and comfy looking, clearly worn down by holding many big bodies over the years. He sank down quietly onto the couch. He heard a pop and a fizz and then Buck was holding a cold can of beer up to Rory’s hand. “Oh.” He said, almost apologetically. “I don’t drink beer.” Buck sucked on his cigar, letting the smoke fill up the room. “Give it a try, you might like it.” Rory looked at the open can in his hand, the label read ‘Lumberjacked, a Canadian beer by Nexus Brewery.’ He shrugged and sucked back the bubbly golden liquid. It warmed his innard and Rory instantly felt more at home on the big bear’s couch. “Like it?” Rory nodded shyly. He really did like it. It was sweet and bitter at the same time. Just like beer should be. But wait, he hated beer! Rory’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion until he breathed in another lungful of the heady cigar-laden air and took a sip of the Lumberjacked beer. Buck sat down on the big leather armchair opposite the couch, drinking his own beer and sucking on his cigar. He began talking about something. Rory wasn’t quite sure what, he was focused on the beer and an odd feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He looked at the big man opposite him and realized he was suddenly feeling buzzed, maybe even a bit more than buzzed. Buck was wearing a loose tank top that showed off his oversized and hairy chest and arms. Rory’s gaze followed these down to the Buck’s shorts, which were made out of a sweatpants type material and clearly cut off at the knee. The big bear’s package was clearly visible, a fat cockhead outline betrayed his cut status. Almost as if on cue the bigger man adjusted his package and kept talking. Rory suddenly noticed a change in his own pants. His dick was pumping full of blood. The sensation of it radiated throughout the rest of his body. He gulped hard, suddenly feeling warm and heavy. “Wow, you finished that fast.” Buck said, motioning to the empty beer can almost hanging out of Rory’s hand. “Here I’ll get you another.” Another pop and fizz and there was another cold beer in his hand. “Thanks.” “Hey you ever think of growing a beard?” Rory blinked. “What? Oh. Me? No. I don’t like beards….” He trailed off thoughtfully, feeling his cock thickening unstoppably in his pants. “Well you’d look good with one,” Buck declared with a smirk. “You already got a pretty thick shadow man, just let it grow.” “No, I shaved before I came here.” Rory lifted a hand to rub his chin, it was covered in thick covering of stubble. “What?” Rory didn’t register the sound of the couch squeaking slightly under his weight, but Buck did. “You been working out man?” You’d look good with some beef on you.” “What…? No, gross.” Rory scoffed. But he suddenly found himself feeling constricted. His shirt was tight over his… Chest?! Rory felt the foreign muscle proudly jutting from his torso, it was hard and rippled sligthly as he moved his arm. He looked down at his arms and gasped with horror as he saw a couple of beefy hairy limbs in front of him. “What’s… What’s going on?” He groaned in pain and perhaps pleasure as his dick suddenly became uncomfortable tight in his skinny jeans. His cockhead was already peaking over his waistband. And it wasn’t just his cock, his quads, ass, and calves were also struggling to fit in the denim. Buck stood up to grab the younger man another beer. “You’re empty, here’s another one,” he thrust it into the confused man’s hand and grinned with approval as he immediately took a long sip. “Better get out of those jeans, doesn’t look like they fit anymore with all the beef you’ve put on recently.” “I… I’ve been working out.” Rory said to no one inparticular before heading to the bathroom, beer in hand. Rory began struggling to peel his pants off when he caught his reflection in his ear. His heartbeat began whooshing in his ears and he had the vague feeling that he was going to pass out or vomit. “What…?” He said, staring dumbly into the mirror. His jaw had squared into a dense meathead look that ensured he would never be totally taken seriously again. He motioned to run a hand across the new short beard that covered it and gulped as he saw his new giant hairy hands and gorilla forearms. A burst of pain from his all too tight pants captured Rory’s attention again. He looked at his new oversized bodybuilder arms, still piling on mass before his eyes. He gripped his jeans with his meaty paws and began to tug. With less effort than he imagined it would take he ripped the pants and freed his mighty, hairy legs and beer can cock which swung down with heavy appreciation. “Unfff,” he sighed in relief. Rory looked down at himself apprehensively. But as he inspected his thick furred chest, broad cannonball shoulders (also with a substantial dusting of hair), and impossibly meaty cock his apprehension turned to blind acceptance. ‘I’m a muscle bear he thought,” rubbing his thick beard with his calloused sausage fingers. The only clothing left on him unshredded was his socks, which were straining over a pair of enormous hairy daddy feet. They made a quiet thud as he paced around the bathroom. Inevitably his thoughts turned to the piece of meat sticking up from his groin. A slow dribble of precum perpetually dribbled from its tip expectantly. Rory grasped it with his hairy mitt and began stroking it. In that moment all that was Rory - the small effeminate man that would’ve been repulsed by the naked hairy bodybuilder in the bathroom animalistically stroking his cock - was replaced. He suddenly had an idea and stopped stroking. Buck would do that for him. He opened the bathroom door and stepped into his new life.
  13. 11 points
    AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this story a couple of years ago, but it's still one of my personal favorites -- perhaps because it's one of my rare happy endings, who knows? Enjoy! Absman420 THE MAX-MAN TIME PARADOX by absman420 The boy stood across the street from the gay bar, right where the Mysterious Man knew he’d be. It was the boy’s twenty-first birthday – that’s how the Mysterious Man knew his location – and the boy was trying to get up the courage to go inside. He was beautiful, so young! Had the Mysterious Man ever been that young? He’d forgotten, it was so long ago. But there was the boy, this beautiful, youthful boy, so insecure, so unable to see his own inner-light, struggling so hard with his sexuality – the Mysterious Man’s heart ached for him. He was ridiculously lean – skinny, really, though the Mysterious Man didn’t like that word, too many years spent struggling with it himself – long and gangly, awkward. Of course, the boy had spent most of his senior year eating little other than hot dogs and Ramen noodles, so his condition was no surprise, but all that hair! It laid there in this huge, glorious, unkempt mop. The Mysterious Man envied it as he felt the gentle spring breeze blow against his bald head. The street was alive, but not busy – the Commons were a few blocks to the north and the din of the outside diners echoed through the air – the sun had almost gone down, still casting a few rays of pink into the ever-darkening skies – it was the kind of spring evening that demanded a person to go outside. And there stood the boy, across the street from the gay bar, when the Mysterious Man stepped up to him. At that moment, the streetlight above them hummed to life, bathing them in soft yellow. “I knew I’d find you here,” the Mysterious Man said, “I wanted to catch you before you made your decision about going in or not.” The boy was startled – probably afraid some stranger had realized he’s gay. “What?” he said, frightened and suspicious. “What’d you say?” “I said, you shouldn’t be afraid of going in.” “I’m not afraid,” the boy responded, defensively. “Okay, I’m a little afraid. Who are you, anyway?” The Mysterious man stepped into the light, so the boy could see him, the bald head, the heavy moustache with the Fu Manchu sides. There was something about him… something familiar. The Mysterious Man smiled… mysteriously. “Have you ever heard an older person say how they’d love to get the chance to meet themselves when they were young and give them advice? Well, I’m having that moment!” “What?” “I’m you, Teddy. I’m you – and today is my FIFTIETH birthday!” The boy stared at the man with a hint of self-recognition, but what youth has any idea of the real effects of aging? Was he more horrified than fascinated by the sheer number of wrinkles or the softening jowls? Couldn’t he still see the lively spark in the eyes? “Prove it,” he said. “Name? Social Security Number? Relatives? Addresses? It could all be faked – you know that. You need something bigger. Let’s see…” The Mysterious Man snapped his fingers. “Yesterday you got a tattoo! You wanted to do it the whole time you were in college and you finally manned up. And now, you’re worried that your grandmother’s gonna freak out when she sees it this weekend.” “Ok…” “An Infinity Symbol – on your left shoulder – and yes she is.” And the Mysterious Man pulled up his sleeve and revealed the exact tattoo, faded, a little bluish and blurred. The boy’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God…” he mumbled. “How…?” “Less how than why,” the older man said. “Now, we don’t have a lot of time and there’s much to get through. I suggest we go to your place – you live in that horrible flat over on South Meadow Street right now, right? God, what a hole! You even thought that while you lived there, though you pretended you were sentimental about it so you could tolerate it.” The boy shook his head. “This is weirding me out so much.” A slight chuckle and the man said, “Teddy, I haven’t even STARTED with the weird shit yet. Let’s go.” They walked down the street with the same gait. To anyone passing them, they appeared related, father and son, probably, the older man thought. Like the boy, he felt disjointed, too. He hadn’t been near Ithaca in two dozen years, not since he finished his first Masters, and suddenly here was the city he remembered alive again. He let the boy lead only because he’d forgotten exactly where he was going, but he filled the time with conversation. “So,” the boy asked, “what did you come back to tell me?” “Not tell you so much,” the older man said, the two of them studying each other, remembering or perhaps hoping to avoid, depending on who was having what thought. “I mean, I know there are some obvious questions – do you become successful, famous, lucky in love? I could answer, but I suspect that after my actions here tonight, there will be a change in the space-time continuum and those facts may be altered.” “What do you mean?” “Let’s establish the theory before we complicate it, okay? I’m a mathematician and a physicist – I hold two PhD’s in applied mathematics and theoretical physics.” The boy gasped, “Really?” as if he didn’t think himself capable of that. “Yeah,” the older man said, smiling the same devilish grin the boy often had. “I went and educated myself right out of the job market! I mean, I made money – I wrote a couple of algorithms for some video game environments that mercifully kept me out of Academia – but it wasn’t until I got involved with the Think Tank that I really found myself challenged.” He patted young Teddy on the shoulder and almost whispered, “That’s where I learned to time-travel.” “Time travel,” Teddy repeated. “That’s what you just said? You learned how to time travel?” “It’s not what you think, no H.G. Wells, comic book nonsense, no time machines or bubbles or cool wrist bands or anything that would be fun. No – it’s a mathematical formula. I know, right? Sorry to disappoint.” “How did you discover it?” “Discover it? Seriously, I wish! No, it had been discovered – although that isn’t really the right word, one doesn’t discover a scientific phenomenon, one quantifies it – and the Think Tank had done that long before I came on board. I just took advantage of it.” “So twenty years in the future, people are able to time travel?” The boy answered with his own devilish grin. “What about jet packs? Rocket cars? Robot dogs, yet?” “They still show re-runs of ‘The Jetsons,’ yeah.” They turned a corner and the elder Ted recognized where he was – that big, shithole house. He continued talking as they ascended the steps and Teddy took out his keys. “But time-travel isn’t publicly known. As I said, it’s a mathematical formula, and one has to be able to understand it in order to utilize it. You have to sort of keep your mind on it and keep computing the whole journey or you’ll queer the wrinkle and ‘blip’ back to your starting point.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.” “So the only time travelers are braniacs?” He opened the door and the two of them stepped inside and went to the second floor. “The mathematicians and the physicists? Man, sucks for Joe Six-Pack.” “It’s safer. Scientists know enough to observe and not interact.” “YOU’RE interacting!” “Yeah,” the elder said, smiling. “But after tonight I doubt I’ll be much of a scientist, anyway.” He and the boy reached for the same light switch at the same moment with the same gesture and laughed at their sudden awkwardness. Ted turned the lights on. “Damn, what a dump! I can’t believe we lived here as long as we did. It was cheap, right?” “And no bugs,” the boy chimed in, and Ted remembered making that same joke in the old days – and often. It was such an extraordinary sense of deja-vu, stepping into this apartment for the first time in nearly thirty years, but as he did, he remembered everything about it. They sat on the beat-up sofa together and the boy scurried to put his bong away. Ted laughed. “You’re not keeping any secrets from me. I know where your porn is stashed.” “I suppose so. Still…” He put the bong aside. The older version looked around. “Remember how you were weirded out before? That’s how I am right now. It’s so strange.” The boy leaned back into his seat. “So… you’ve sort of answered how, but not why. And I’m hoping the why-answer is a little more clear.” “I haven’t come back in time to give you sage advice or a dire warning or anything like that. I don’t think that would work, anyway. No, this is totally different. You see, Teddy, in my time there’s been significant advances in genetic engineering – your current generation did not grow old gracefully, let’s say – and a LOT of money was dumped into what was artfully dubbed Applied Genetics. If one was rich enough, one could do anything from having a single organ regrown to a near complete body rejuvenation.” “Wow… bio-chem fountain of youth…” “Nearly,” the older man said, running a hand over his heavy, graying Fu Manchu. “Anyway, it was a short step from Applied to Designer Genetics, where one could suddenly buy any sort of body one wanted. They even make a catalogue – seriously, like Neiman Marcus, only more exclusive. You could become thin, or handsome, or blue-eyed…” The boy broke in, laughing. “Or really well hung!” The older Ted sent back the exact same smile. “Exactly. One of their most popular packages.” “Pardon the pun.” They laughed. “They also developed this one formula… called The Max-Man, guaranteed to develop all male-characteristics beyond their maximum, muscles, genitals, sex drive, strength and power. The professional bodybuilders and football players were falling all over themselves to get ahold of it. Could you blame them? One could get huge and stay huge without any effort at all -- that’s not even mentioning how full one’s posers or jockstrap would be.” There was an uncomfortable laugh from the boy – he had so far to go with his own sexuality! The elder Ted smiled again. “I knew you’d understand,” he said. “I know your fantasies, Teddy. I know the pictures you’ve masturbated to. I know you’ve spent a lifetime dreaming of muscle – and I’m here to tell you that I have, too, nearly thirty years longer. So, for my fiftieth birthday, I manned up and did something about it – like you did with the tattoo.” “What do you mean?” “I bought The Max-Man formula, Teddy,” the older man said, pulling a small plastic bag from his pocket and tossing it on the coffee table where the bong had been. “I spent everything. I liquidated myself completely – the house, the cars, the investments, the retirement – everything. I have nothing now but what’s in my head, the clothes on my back and that package right there.” The young Teddy was resisting every urge to touch it, to pick it up and examine it. Instead, he said the obvious, “Why haven’t you taken it?” “I thought about it,” Ted said, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. “I could take it now at fifty and have twenty-five… thirty years of enjoyment, OR I could give it to myself when I was significantly younger and have an entire lifetime.” He looked at young Teddy and smiled. “And since yours was the only birthday where I could remember where I was at a particular time and place, here I am. And there you are.” Teddy looked from the man to the plastic package, nervously, as the truth sunk in. “You want ME to…?” “I sure do! Listen, it’s your twenty-first birthday – more significantly, if I hadn’t interrupted you, it would’ve been the first time you got laid with another man. (And it’s GREAT sex, too, by the way!) – so let’s up the ante by making it the day you became a Max-Man, as well.” The boy was suddenly nervous. “I don’t know…” “Don’t be afraid of it!” the older Ted said. “It’s the fantasy you’ve had your entire life – don’t pretend it isn’t! Like I don’t know the magazines you have stuck under your mattress. Like I don’t know what you think about when you masturbate. C’mon, Teddy, you got the tattoo…” The boy glanced at the older man then quickly grabbed the package – he tore open the seal and revealed its contents: a hypodermic that seemed to be missing the needle, about four inches long. “It’s an auto-syringe,” said Ted. “Put the end against your thigh and press the button. It’ll inject automatically.” The boy released a heavy sigh – the sound of resolve, the older Ted knew – and stood up, stepping into the half-bath that was off the kitchen. He tried to move quickly, before he lost his nerve, and his hands were a little shaky. Setting the syringe on the edge of the sink, he opened his jeans, pulling them down over his ass to expose his upper thigh. Teddy fumbled with the syringe until he had it in place – here he was, living the fantasy of his life, and his dick was a little shriveled acorn from fear, nothing like in his fantasies, he noted absently – and pressed the button. There was a “snap” as the mechanism released – Teddy felt a sharp prick, but it wasn’t so bad. After a second, he pulled the needle out and tossed it in the sink – no blood. “I did it,” he called to his older self, buckling his jeans as he stepped back into the living room. His older self said, “I know,” but his voice didn’t sound quite right – it was deeper than it had been a moment ago. Huskier. When Teddy glanced up, he saw why. The lean, gangly man that Teddy had met earlier was now a massive bodybuilder, bigger than the three-hundred pound freaks that were beginning to dominate the sport and the magazines. He was still bald – which mildly disappointed Teddy – and still had the same thick whiskers, but otherwise a completely different man physically. “Look, Teddy,” he said, flexing, “this is gonna be you in about an hour.” “Oh my God…” The freak stood and he walked over, his gigantic thighs barely getting around themselves – dressed differently, in a t-shirt and baggy gym shorts, flip-flops. With a smirk on his face – they were exactly the same height, only Teddy felt so much smaller – the elder Ted raised his arms in a double biceps pose. “These are gonna be your arms in about an hour, Teddy,” he said, his voice low like a big cat on the prowl. “Wanna feel ‘em?” That was the moment Teddy’s cock came to life, the moment he touched his future biceps. The bodybuilder pulled off his own t-shirt, tossing it aside, revealing his ripped torso, the oversized pecs, shoulders and traps, the tiny waist and the mind-bending abs. “These are gonna be your pecs,” he growled. “Feel these.” Hypnotized, the boy ran his hand along the mounds, ran his fingers down the deep cleavage, barely touched the thick nipples – when the elder Ted gasped, the boy twitched nervously and pulled his hands away. “Sorry,” Teddy mumbled. Ted smirked. “Let me show you something else,” the muscle-freak said, pulling down the front of his loose shorts. “This is gonna be your cock, Teddy.” It was big – and getting bigger! Ted’s cock was easily ten or eleven inches soft and as it hardened before the both of them, Teddy could only think of Tom of Finland style drawings with the insane builds and the impossible genitals. How could you fuck anybody with that? “That’s sucking a lot of blood from my brain,” Ted said, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “It’s getting harder to think about…” Then he grabbed the giant thing with both hands and started to masturbate. “Ah, fuck math…” he mumbled. Teddy watched the three-hundred pound beast step out of his shorts and beat off, watching his muscle flex as he stroked, the whole time trying to come to terms with the idea he was watching himself. His own cock raged in his jeans as his future-self got off. “C’mon, Teddy, beat off with me. You know you wanna – and worship totally gets me off! In the last thirty years, I’ve made quite a chunk of change doin’ it.” Until that moment, Teddy had only seem images of bodybuilders, static pictures in magazines – he’d never seen one in real life, never experienced the mass, never felt the power and the life. He fell to his knees and tore his cock from his pants, eager to live this part out. The older man was smooth, experienced – he had a whole routine, a banter that accompanied it. “Yeah, you like these big arms, don’t you, boy?” the older Ted murmured, alternating between posing and stroking. “Look at this thick horseshoe.” He hit a side-triceps shot, his cock sticking straight out and up, the infinity symbol tattoo strong on his shoulder. “Yeah, jerk your cock to my hot body, Teddy. Beat off to your future.” He bounced his massive pecs back and forth, keeping the boy’s attention as he stepped closer. “Look at my big quad, Teddy.” It was right there in his face. “This one leg is as big as your entire torso, isn’t it, boy? But not for much longer… no more bird legs for you…” Teddy was so close to shooting. Obviously, so was Ted. His cock was inches away from the boy’s ear and they were both stroking furiously as Teddy drooled over Ted’s thigh. “Gonna shoot…” Teddy said, panting. “Me, too,” grunted Ted. “Can’t focus on…” They both orgasmed at the same moment – for Teddy, a huge, mind-blowing, fantasy-fulfilled orgasm. He groaned – and he was certain he heard Ted groan the same groan – they blended together. Teddy fell forward and closed his eyes, pumping out so much cum. He was surprised, frankly, that he hadn’t been bathed from Ted’s big dick – maybe a little disappointed, too. Panting, he opened his eyes – and the big bodybuilder Ted was gone. Where, literally a second ago, a three-hundred pound man stood inches from his face, there was now nothing. It was as if Teddy had knelt in the middle of his living room and jerked off alone – there was no evidence that anyone had joined him. The only cum was his, no discarded t-shirt… no abandoned shorts… A quick look revealed no wrapper on the coffee table… Nothing. In a bit of a curious panic, Teddy ran to the bathroom. The syringe was gone, too. He searched for it, becoming more and more desperate. He thought he’d tossed it in the sink, but maybe the waste can, maybe… …maybe it hadn’t been real, he thought. So his search became a little more scattered – if he could find ANY evidence, anything at all, then it wasn’t a fantasy, it wasn’t some weird trick of his mind – he scanned along the floor under the sink, behind the toilet, both inside the bath and out. Nothing, nothing and nothing. Finally, he gave up. Whatever it had been, it obviously hadn’t been real. He looked at himself in the mirror, depressed again about his body, depressed about spending the next thirty years hating it, and even more depressed when he could find no evidence of an injection in his thigh. Wouldn’t that be something? Fucking tease fantasy. Shitty birthday, Teddy. But wait, hadn’t the guy said that Teddy would get laid tonight? Hadn’t he said that Teddy would have his first time? Hadn’t he said it would be rockin’ awesome? That put the wind back in his sails a little – maybe THAT part had been true. It was still early, not quite ten o’clock – there was still plenty of time. He knew he could man-up and go in to the bar – if this night had given him nothing else, it had given him some confidence, the beginning of the understanding that his sexuality wasn’t bad. That’s certainly a good birthday present. Just as Teddy was about to step out and meet his destiny, he got a sudden cramp in his stomach that drove him to his knees. “What the fuck…?” he mumbled, realizing that his cock was rock hard. And then he started to grow… END
  14. 11 points
    -Chapter 2- Meet the new Charles It would be a clear understatement if I said I'm excited to see where this one goes. Think about all the possibilities that could take place, just by using hypnosis, how could anyone not appreciate this? I still have an issue with my double standards, but this is tempting as hell, especially after seeing what's possible on Charles. The transition needs to be seamless and gradual, I'm not ready to suffer from any repercussion that may arise at this point, nor am I eager to let anyone find out what a manipulative person I am (literally). As I frantically type my way through the entire script, I've made sure that I include all the necessary details for my dear roommate, Charles. My heart skipped a beat when I clicked "Save". As I configured to let the script run throughout the night, I hear my roommate just outside the door - his key brushing against the wooden frame. Like a teenager trying to watch porn in the middle of the night, I was terrified. I must have spent longer than I expected on the script and cut too close on his shift. In lightning speed, I have a finger on the monitor's power button and another hand pushing the chair back to its original position. My experience probably speaks for itself - I just hope he doesn't check on the temperature of the computer screen. When the door swings open, I'm already on my bed - eager to see what happen soon. I'm unsure how long does it take for subliminal scripts as such may take to see apparent and significant changes. I guess I would then have to find out for myself. Didn't have much luck, though. Charles' colleague fell ill the very next day and Charles was put on double-shift at the cafe until he recovers. Probably this is doing me a favour, you perverted freak. Heh, I'll still gladly take the title anyway. "Hey, wanted to ask you something," Charles asked me on a fine morning while we were having breakfast over the countertop, precisely a week and a half since the commencement of the new script. I was so occupied trying to figure out if there's anything different about Charles, I barely heard him. I could've sworn to see a faint outline of both his pecs and the coming of abs, which is new because he doesn't really work out - what did I even write in the script again? He calls out to me again - and this time, I better respond in time. I look him in the eyes and wait, stubbles? "Isn't it hot in here?" he asked, I have to tear my sight away from his face for a moment. I nodded in agreement - hot and humid weather, aren't really my thing as well. "I'm glad that shirts are optional," he smirks. Have I not noticed how cute he is when he smiles? I was in cloud nine already when he picks up and turns to the sink to wash the dishes. His butt, though. It's screaming "BUBBLE" at me in all caps. I'm getting really curious to see what's underneath it. "Okay, I'm off to work," he grabs his bag from the countertop and wave goodbye. As the door closes, it's already 10 am. If I don't get ready by then, I would be late for work! I quickly run to my the shower room for a quick shower. My reflection in the mirror seems different though - I vaguely remember getting up for breakfast, but I guess I probably forgot to put on a shirt. Didn't know I'm actually looking quite good recently. No big deal anyway, I then proceed to shower and immediately head to work.
  15. 10 points
    The Muscle Machine By Richard Jasper *** Part 1 Ralph Peters looked up at the big jock who sat down across from him at Emory University's Cox Hall. "Uh, I'm sorry...?" Ralph began. He didn't know any big blond muscle jocks and those he might have known weren't likely to join him for lunch unless they had plans to, ya know, beat the shit out of him or something. At 5'10 and 135 lbs. sopping wet, Ralph thought of himself as the classic nerd boy, although in fact he had a graceful dancer's body and a beautiful face, a bit too beautiful to be manly, in fact, which is why he hid behind the glasses that he didn't really need. "Relax, Ralphie, it's me," the deep voice replied. Ralph's eyes flew open. "Max?! Is that you?!" * * * Four months earlier Max Hardesty had gone home to Pensacola to spend the summer after his freshman year. His blond hair and blue eyes were handsome enough but at 5'11 and 150 lbs. he didn't have a muscle in his body, thanks largely to his jock dad's bullying and harrassment. That's gonna change now, Max thought. His dad had absconded to Belize with some ditzy redhead, leaving Max and his mom to fend for themselves. Thankfully, Helen Hardesty was a successful physician who had years previously realized that her philandering husband would someday come to a bad end; she'd long ago achieved complete financial independence and a complete separation of their assets. Rhett's absence meant that Max had his dad's vaunted weight-room (a converted two-car garage with all the best equipment and a wall of mirrors) to himself. Max ate, lifted, ate again, jacked off, and slept, in roughly that order, all day long, every day, for the entire summer. The results were, well, spectacular... * * * "Oh my God!" Ralphie exclaimed, looking his freshman year roommate up and down. "Yer fucking huge!" Max leaned back in his seat, raised his arms, and gave Ralphie a quick double bi, his softball size biceps swelling to 19 1/2 inches, and they weren't even pumped! In the four months since Ralph had last seen him, Max had grown another inch in height and added 70 lbs. of solid muscle to his frame. Before he had been shapeless and nondescript; now he was huge and ripped and looked ready to go head to head with any other bodybuilder in his age group. Even Max's face looked different. It was always nice enough but, now, shit, he looked fucking great, the extra weight causing his face to fill out in a way that would have made Brad Pitt jealous. "You like it?" Max asked. Ralphie tried not to choke on his Cheetos. "Like it?!" he croaked. "Are you kidding?! You're a fucking stud!" Max reached down and rested his hand on his crotch. Ralphie was such a fucking little cutie. The glasses and the nerd act didn't fool Max a bit. "I'm not entirely certain," Max pointed out. "But I don't think my muscles are the only thing that grew." Ralphie squirmed in his seat. He had lusted after Max's big, 8 1/2 inch dick, their entire freshman year together. Unfortunately, neither of them had the balls to make a move on the other. Now, though... "I think you need to come check out my apartment," Max said. "Don't you?" Ralphie gulped but nodded his head. He didn't know what was more surprising, Max's new body -- or his new assertiveness! Max put his arm around Ralphie's skinny shoulders as they walked out of Cox. "I think you're enjoying the new Max, aren't you?" Ralphie just snorted. "I think you're enjoying him, too!" Ralphie replied. You bet your fuckable sweet ass, Max thought. My time is now! *** Part 2 "Jesus," Ralphie said, as Max was fucking him for the fifth time that evening. "You're a fucking machine!" Max grinned but didn't slow down, continuing to pump Ralphie's fine ass with his thick 9 1/2 dick. It had been the first thing they'd measured when they got back to Max's off campus apartment. "Good lord," Ralph had exclaimed. "I've heard of guys growing an inch over the summer when they were 19 but not an inch down there, too!" Max gave it a good shake. It been hard since before they walked in the door. "Wanna take a ride on my pony, little boy?" Ralph had climbed on and stayed on. Occasionally, they'd stop long enough to measure another body part. In addition to the 19 1/2 inch biceps, Max had a 50 inch chest, which was pretty phenomenal paired with his 30 inch waist and 27 inch quads. Every time they measured, Ralphie got hard and watching Ralphie get hard made Max hard and so they started again. "Mmm," Max said between thrusts. "I, mmf, like, mmf, that! Fucking, mmf, muscle machine!" It was clear to Ralphie that Max was about the muscle as much as the fucking. As for Ralphie... I never took myself for a muscle slut, he said to himself, but I'm converted. Then Ralph's eyes rolled back in his head, they both shot at the same time, and they passed out. * * * Eight hours later... Max pulled himself out of bed to go take a piss. When his feet hit the floor, Max felt something was different but he put it down to cobwebs and the after effects of sex. Hey! he thought. I'm not a virgin any more, woo fucking hoo! It figured that it would be Ralphie. He'd had a hard on for that cute little fucker since the day they'd met. In the bathroom, Max lifted the lid of the john and put his hand on his dick... ?!?! His eyes flew open. It seemed to Max like his dick was visibly bigger than it was the night before! That can't be, he thought, then hurried back to the bedroom. "Ralphie, wake up," he said, shaking his best friend. "I want you to measure something." Ralphie sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Wow," he said, when he looked at Max. Max straightened up. "It's bigger, isn't it?" he asked. "I didn't think you'd be able to tell without measuring." Ralphie sat their open-mouthed, then shook himself like a dog. "What do you mean, it's bigger? Everything is bigger!" Max looked in the mirror. "Wow!" Ralph climbed out of bed and looked at his best friend and lover. He gulped! "Uh, Max..." Max was too busy flexing to listen. Biceps, chest, forearms, quads, traps, everything was bigger. Yesterday he looked like a novice competitor; this morning he looked like a veteran! Ralphie put two fingers in the corner of his mouth and whistled. Max turned and looked...down. "Max, I don't know what happened to you, dude, but we gotta take some measurements. You're bigger and you're taller!" Max blinked. "What?!" Ralph put his hands on Max's shoulders, which were at least two inches wider than they had been the night before. "How tall were you yesterday?" Ralph asked. "Six feet even," Max replied. Ralph shook his head. "Not any more, you're not!" They took all the measurements: Height: 6'1, up an inch. Weight: 240, up 20 lbs. Arms: 21 1/2, up 2 inches. Chest: 54 inches, up 4 inches. Waist: 30 inches, no change. Quads: 30 inches, up 3 inches. Dick: 10 1/2 inches "Shit," Ralph said when they were done. "That's fucking amazing!" Max was beaming. "What are you talking about? It's fucking awesome!" He was fully hard again. Ralphie licked his lips. "What do you suppose made it happen?" Max leered and wrapped his massive arms around Ralph, lifting his best bud off the ground and heading towards the bedroom. "I don't know but I've got an idea we're going to find out!" *** Part 3 "Are you ready for round six?" Max asked. Ralph groaned. "Are you out of your fucking mind? No, I'm not ready for round six! Ask me in January!" Max frowned. He loomed over Ralph, his massive arms on either side of Ralph's lithe, dancer's bod. Max flexed. "I could make you," he said. Ralph's dark eyes flashed. "Max, look at me," he said. "No means NO, I don't care how big you are." Max blushed. "Uh, well, yeah, I know that," he said. "Sorry, I was just..." Ralph grabbed Max's 10 1/2 inch poker and playfully twisted it. "Yeeow!!" Max exclaimed. "What did you do THAT for?" Ralph laughed, then nudged Max's wrists so the big man fell right on him. "Just so you'll remember," Ralph said, sticking his tongue down Max's throat. "That bigger isn't always better." They did it a sixth time after all, Ralph's hole finding it suddenly easier than before, and then they slept. * * * The next morning... "Crap," Max said, standing in front of the john. It was clear that he hadn't grown, not a lick. Still just as studly and awesome as he had been the night before but no sensational overnight growth. Max was so broad that he couldn't see Ralph come in the bathroom behind him. He nearly jumped out of his pumped up skin when he heard someone say: "Check it out, dude!" Max whirled and... "Shit, Ralph! Look at you!" This time Ralph was the one who had grown overnight. He looked slightly taller and, holy fuck, he had muscles! Not huge ones, mind, but definitely muscles. "Good God Almighty," Max said. "Yer built." Ralph snorted. "Oh, gimme a break, Big Man," he said. "I still look like a fucking piece of spaghetti next to you!" Which was true, Max realized, but made no difference. "You look good enough to eat!" Ralph's stomach growled. "Speaking of which," he said. "But let's measure first." And so they did. It was the same story as with Max the day before: An inch taller, 20 lbs. heavier, all muscle, an extra inch on Ralph's dick. At 5'11 and 155 lbs., he looked like a gymnast or a competitive swimmer. Looking at Ralph's enhanced hotness brought Max's big meat to full mast. "Whoah, Big Fella," Ralph said. "We need to think this through." Over breakfast at Cox Hall, they talked about. "The first fuck-a-thon, you grew," Ralph pointed out. "And the second fuck-a-thon, I didn't," Max agreed. "But you did. What's that all about?" Ralph looked at his big boyfriend. Boyfriend? he thought. Hmmm. "Maybe we need to try it the other way?" Ralph said. "Maybe I should fuck you?" Max grimaced. "I don't think I'm ready for that," he admitted. Ralph gave him the look. "Oh, OK, I get it," he said. "It's OK for me to have your baseball bat up my butt but not OK for you to have mine up yours?!" Max blushed profusely. For all his mega hotness, he looked like a little boy who'd just been caught pulling the cat's tail. "Uh, well, I..." Ralph snorted. "It's OK," Ralph said. "I think we need a different strategy." Max just gaped. It occurred to him that Ralph really was trying to figure out what was going on. "I don't know," Max said. "I don't care. I just want to fuck. And grow more muscles!" Ralph stared off into space for a full minute, then snapped his fingers, and beamed. "I've got it," he said. "Curtis Perkins!" Max just stared. "The fat guy with the pimples?" Ralph nodded. "Biggest bottom at Emory," he said. "If anybody can take your big tool, it's Curtis!" * * * "I can't believe you're coming on to me," Curtis said over dinner that evening. Ralph and Max looked at each other. "Well, here's the thing, Curt," Ralph said. Curtis raised an eyebrow. "Max is too big for me," Ralph continued. Curtis' mouth dropped open. "Too big?" he muttered. "For YOU?" Max gave Ralph a glance. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder how Ralphie had become such an enthusiastic bottom. "Just how big is it?" Curtis demanded. Max blushed. Ralph told him. Curtis' eyes got big. "And that's just length," Ralph added. "He's also..." And he told Curtis how big around Max was when fully hard. Curtis looked like he might pass out. Of course, Curtis often looked like he might pass out. At 5'10, their fellow sophomore was well over 250 lbs., and unlike Max, it wasn't all muscle. In fact, there wasn't any muscle at all. "But why me?" Curtis asked. "It's not like I'm Mister Universe or something, like Max here!" Max's expression was desperate. "Curt, dude," he said. "This is the deal: I gotta fuck! That's all there is to it. I need somebody who can handle it, somebody who can appreciate it." Curtis sat up straighter, squared his narrow shoulders, lifted his sagging chins. "Max, my man, you've found your bottom." * * * A few hours later, Max and Ralph were walking back to their apartment. When did that happen? Max wondered. "You know," Ralph said. "Curtis is really actually quite a handsome guy..." Max, surprisingly, nodded. "Big green eyes, long dark lashes, pouty lips," he agreed. "What's not to like?" They looked at each other. "Well," Ralph said. "There's the 250 lbs. of blubber." Max sighed. "And the pimples," he agreed. "Although those might go away if he didn't eat so much damn much junk food." Ralph nodded. "Do you think it worked?" he asked. Max put his massive arm around his lover's neck. "Hard to know, right? I certainly fucked the hell out of him, and let me tell you, that boy really does have one fucking hot hole." Ralph stiffened a bit in Max's embrace. "Although not remotely as hot as yours," Max continued. Ralph sighed and relaxed. "We'll know in the morning, eh?" Max nodded. In the morning, he thought. *** Part 4 This time Max knew before he got out of bed. He knew before he sat up. Just lying there next to Ralph, he knew that he had grown. He reached up and felt his pecs. "Jesus," he muttered. He reached down and felt his dick. "Holy crap," he moaned. Ralphie woke up. "Damn, boy," he said. "You grew alright!" They got out of bed. Max looked at himself and smiled. "Woof!" he said. "I'm big!" Then he looked at Ralph, whose mouth was hanging open. "Holy fuck," Ralph said. "You're not big -- you're huge!" They measured again. Max was two inches taller and 50 lbs. heavier. At 6'3 and 290 lbs., his chest was up to 60 inches and his biceps were 25 inches. His waist had grown to 32 inches but his quads had exploded -- they now measured 35 inches even. By the time they finished, Max had a raging erection, the big meat swinging back and forth, bobbing up and down. Ralph grabbed it -- he couldn't get his fingers all the way around! "Twelve inches long," he called out. "Nine inches around." Max licked his lips. "Wanna fuck?" Ralph just laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, Big Man, but I know my limits!" Max pouted. "Maybe," Ralph continued. "You could, like, ya know, go fuck a storm drain or something?" Max grinned. Just then, Ralph's cell phone rang. "Curtis," Ralph said. "Curtis. Curtis. Calm down." Ralph listened for a minute or two, holding the phone out from his ear a few inches, Curtis was talking that loud. "OK," Ralph said. "OK, OK. Yes. We'll be over in 10 minutes." Max looked at Ralph. What? Ralph shook his head. "He lost 30 lbs. overnight. He wants to know what the hell is going on!" Max blinked. "What are we going to tell him?" Ralph threw a loose t-shirt and pair of baggy sweats at Max. Well, they'd been loose and baggy the day before; right then they looked like they were painted on! "I don't have a fucking clue," Ralph admitted. "Let's go find out, shall we?" * * * "What did you do to me?" Curt said before they got in the door good. Then he looked up at Max. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" he said. "What did you do to yourself?" It was all Curtis could do not to drool. "Damn, Curtis," Ralph said. "You look good enough to eat!" It was true. Not only had Curtis lost 30 lbs. of blubber, what remained actually had shape and definition. Before Curtis looked like he was turning into Jabba the Hut. Now he looked like he was turning into a pocket-sized NFL lineman! Definitely not ripped but solid and strong looking. "You," Curtis said to Ralph, lifting Ralph off the ground with two hands. "You did this to me!" From behind, Max lifted Curtis (still holding Ralph) off the ground. Ralph tried to do the math: how much was Max holding at arms length? 350, 400 lbs.? "Yo, buddy," Max said. "I think you need to settle down!" Curtis dropped Ralph to the floor and swept him up in a big bear hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he exclaimed. Then he turned to Max, wrapped his arms around Max's beer-keg neck, and started bawling. Max looked at Ralph, arched an eyebrow. Ralph shrugged. What ya gonna do? They got Curtis calmed down eventually. They told him the whole story, mostly because if they hadn't Curtis might have impaled himself on Max's huge log right there. Even after he'd heard the details and agreed that the results weren't likely to be repeated, he wanted to go at it again, but Ralph fended him off. "Not yet, Big Sexy," Ralph told Curtis. "We need to explore some more." Curtis looked at Max with undisguised lust. "The only question is," Ralph said. "Who's next? I mean look at that thing. Who's gonna take that?" An evil grin came over Curtis' face and he let out a chuckle. "Norman," he said, as if that explained everything. Ralph and Max looked at each other. "Norman who?" Curtis rolled his eyes. "Norman Persons, of course," he continued, as if addressing small, not terribly bright boys. Max and Ralph gaped. "The Dean of Students?!" Curtis nodded. "Just so," he said. "Just so." *** Part 5 "My goodness," Norman Persons said, after inviting Max, Ralph, and Curtis into the living room of his Candler Park home. "You really are quite large! Curt told me you were a big boy but..." Max smiled and shrugged his mountainous traps. This was going to be easier than he thought! "You are very kind to say so, sir," Max replied. "And might I add that you are a very handsome gentleman! I have seen you around campus a time or two but I had no idea YOU were Dean Persons!" Persons smiled warmly at the huge young man. It was true -- he did look quite a bit younger than his 52 years. Like Max, he was tall, a good 6'4, but with a long, lean tennis player's build. "Well, Curt, now that we're settled, why don't you tell me why you boys wanted to meet with me?" Curtis cleared his throat. "Well, sir," he replied. "It's like this -- Max has a problem and we're guessing only you can deal with it." An expression of concern came over Persons' face as he looked Max up and down. He placed a strong, bronzed hand on Max's knee. "What is it, son?" Persons asked. "Girl trouble?" Max smiled. "Not quite," Max said. "Although I suppose you could consider it a related issue." Persons was all sympathy. "It's like this," Max said. "I need to get laid." Persons blinked. "And how am I supposed to help you with that?" he asked, in a chilly tone. Curtis laughed out loud. "Oh, c'mon, Norm, knock it off," he said. "You know what he wants. And you can help him the same way you helped me." Persons blushed. "And just what does young Max have to offer?" he sniffed. "The huge muscles are certainly nice but..." Max stood up and quickly dropped his pants, his 12-inch python nearly hitting Persons in the face. "They tell me you can handle this, Dean Persons," Max said, a tone of quiet desperation in his voice. "And it really needs to be handled." Persons licked his lips. "Well, uh, I say," the Dean continued. "That's quite an impressive specimen you have there, Max." Curtis snickered but shut up when Ralph elbowed him in the ribs. "Dean Persons, sir," Max said. "I need your ass." Persons came to a decision. He stood and headed toward the stairs, pausing long enough to look over his shoulder. "Well, then," he said. "Come along!" Max followed the Dean, his huge form casting a shadow on the living room floor. "Now what?" Ralphie said when they were gone. Curtis shrugged his shoulders. "We could go," he said. "Or we could stay." Ralph arched an eyebrow. "And do what?" Curtis grinned again. "Norm has a fucking fabulous porn collection," he observed. "Want to check it out?" * * * A few hours later... Max came down the stairs, tucking in his shirt. He found Ralph and Curtis dozing on the Dean's sofa, a pile of wadded up kleenex on the authentic Isamu Noguchi coffee table. The two started awake when Max tromped in, his size 16 feet causing the bungalow's refinished hardwood floors to bounce. "Did you fuck him to death?" Curtis asked. Max smirked. "He's an amazingly, uh, talented man," Max said. "Especially for an old guy!" Curtis sniffed. "If you'd been fucked as many times as he has in the past 40 years, your hole would be stretched out, too! It's a wonder he doesn't need..." Ralph punched Curtis in the shoulder. "Just saying..." "Enough saying," Ralph countered. "It's time to get our beast home and into bed!" * * * 8 a.m. the next day Ralph woke up on the floor, his legs twisted in sheets and the comforter, his neck sore from (apparently!) having used the base of his floor lamp as a pillow. "Unnnnnnrrrrrggggg..." The groan sounded like Curtis, and it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the bed. Still struggling with the sheets, Ralph crawled, scooted, and rolled around the bed, visually confirming his suspicion. Finally pulling free of the sheets, he stood up. "Oh my God!" Ralph blurted He and Curt were on the floor for a very good reason, namely: Max was so big he took up the entire fucking bed! Ralph's exclamation caused Max to wake and sit up. It was like watching Atlantis rise up out of the ocean, he was that vast! "Jeez, Ralph," Max muttered, his voice like thunder. "Can't you let a guy get some shut eye?" And then he fell back on the bed. *** Part 6 Max stood up and stretched. Ralph and Curtis looked up -- and up and up! -- at him. "My God," Ralph said. "You're huge," Curtis added. "Massive," Ralph continued. "Mountainous," Curtis concurred. Max flexed his boulder-sized biceps. "Fuck," he muttered. "I'm the goddamned hulk!" They measured. Max was four inches taller than he'd been the night before, which put him at 6'6. He broke the bathroom scale, which only went up to 350 lbs. "I'm guessing 400," he said. Ralph and Curtis nodded. "We'll go to the gym and check it out." Max's biceps were 32 inches. His chest was 80 inches! His waist was up to 38 inches but his quads were up to 44 inches! "BOOM!" Max said, hitting a most muscular. Ralph and Curtis both orgasmed without touching themselves. "Goddammit," Ralph said, falling back on the bed. "Oooooohhhhhh," Curtis moaned, leaning over like he was about to pass out. Max grinned. "And check this out!" His dick was big before. "Jesus," Ralph said. "You've got a career in porn ahead of you if you want it," Curtis agreed. 15 inches long. 10 inches around. "Uh, Max," Ralph said. "You realize..." Curt interrupted him. "It's clear that first times do something to you," Curtis pointed out, then glanced at Ralph. "And follow ups don't." Max glanced at the much smaller man. "So...?" he asked. Curtis crossed his arms and tried to look stern. "So no more fucking newbies," Curtis said, wagging his finger. "You've got to grow us -- and if your dick gets any bigger, we won't be able to take it!" Ralph's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head but Max's grin just got bigger. He wrapped his massive paw around his monster dick. "Who wants to go first?" * * * Three hours later... "No mas," Ralph said, exhausted. "I can't take it any more." Curtis was snoring on the floor. He had been fucked by Max five times to Ralph's three but he had passed out midway through the last fuck. Max had picked Curtis -- all 250 lbs. of him -- up like he weighed nothing and stretched him out on the floor, while he and Ralph did their final round. Curtis' cell phone rang. Ralph answered. "Hello?" The blast of sound from the phone made Ralph hold it far away from his ear. "What did you do to me?!!" It was Dean Persons. "Uh, Max had sex with you," Ralph replied, reasonably. "At least, I think he did. Curtis and I watched vids in your living room." Ralph listened, nodded, grunted, nodded, tried to interrupt, shook his head, grunted again. "OK, then," he said, finally. "Send us a post card, OK?" Ralph clicked off the phone. Max looked at him. "What was that all about?" Ralph rolled his eyes. "You fucked him," Ralph said. "And he grew. Two inches taller. 50 lbs. heavier." Max whistled. "And apparently he looks about 20 years younger," Ralph added. Max raised an eyebrow. "This is a problem?" Ralph just shook his head. "You gotta wonder," he said. "But the President didn't like it. Said she didn't know what kinda hormone replacement therapy Norm was doing but it just wasn't dignified. She canned his ass." Max's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding!" Ralph gave Max the look. "OK," Max said. "You're not kidding. Where's Norm going?" Ralph snorted. "Off to Denver, apparently. He's gonna try out for the Broncos!" Max gaped, Ralph yawned. "We can talk about it more tomorrow," Ralph said. "I gotta sleep." Then he passed out. Max, on the other hand, was still raring to go. I gotta fuck, he thought to himself. I gotta fuck bad! Four hundred pounds wasn't enough. Six feet six wasn't enough. The 15 inch dick wasn't enough. But who the hell? he thought. Unbidden, the name popped into his head. Sidney! Sidney Chastain! The biggest, strongest guy on Emory's football team! *** Part 7 Sidney Chastain's eyes widened as the big white guy walked into Emory's Woodruff PE Center. Holy fuck, Sidney thought. That guy's bigger than I am! There were, in fact, guys bigger than Big Sid, as his friends called him, but very few of them had his intense degree of size and muscularity. At 6'6 and 350 lbs. of solid muscle, Sidney was as big as the biggest pro bodybuilders only with an aspiring NFL pro's moves, quickness, and reflexes. The big guy walked right up to him and stuck out his hand. "Max Hardesty," the big man said. "You're Sid Chastain, right?" Sid was sitting at the end of the bench where, unassisted, he'd been cranking out close grip reps with 585 lbs. "Yeah, that would be me," Sid said. Chastain wasn't known for having a lot of patience with fans but... Damn, Sid thought. This guy is fucking amazing. "Mind if I work in with you?" Max asked. Sid was about to get shirty, then he noticed the bulge in Max's pants. His mouth dropped open. Taking that as a yes, Max smirked and began to pull off his ginormous hoodie. "Holy fuck," Sid exclaimed when Max's upper body was revealed. "Why the hell aren't you on the football team?" Max just chuckled. "Ya know, I never even thought about it," Max said, sliding into Sid's place on the bench. "I've just always wanted to get big." Max lifted the bar off the stanchions and churned out 20 perfect reps, fast! Sid's eyes bulged almost as much as Max's pecs, delts, and bis. "That was just a warm up weight, right?" Max asked. "Put on a couple of 45s for me?" Sid, who'd never changed a plate for another guy since graduating from high school, found himself adding a 45 lb. plate to each end. Max jumped up and added two more. "Sorry!" Max said. "I didn't make myself clear. I meant 2 more on each end." With 765 lbs. on the bar, Max cranked out 20 more reps, albeit a bit slower than he did the first time. Chastain just gaped. "Two more please?" Max asked sweetly. "Each end, I mean!" Chastain complied, then had the presence of mind to ask. "Uh, need a spot?" Max winked at him. "Maybe next set," he said, then put out another 10 reps, no sweat, 945 lbs. going up and down like it was a beginner's weight. Chastain looked at Max. "You want more, Big Man?" Chastain asked. Max nodded. "But let's cut to the chase, OK? Let's put three more on each end, OK?" Max took one side while Sid took the other; Max wasn't sure what was more amusing, seeing Sid's notoriously huge 13-incher distending his blue and gold track pants or knowing that Sid was totally oblivious to his own erection! "And, yeah," Max said, settling back down on the bench. "A spot would be good." It occurred to Sid that he didn't know how exactly he was going to spot someone benching 1215 lbs. but he just nodded. He moved into position at the head of the bench, only to have Max clear his throat. "Uh, Big Man," Max said. "You're gonna hafta back up just a bit. Or I'm gonna be benching your pecker!" Sid looked down and realized his meat was sticking so far out he couldn't see Max's face. He wasn't sure whether he was going to die of shame or spurt right there. "On three," Max said, and then he cranked out six reps easy, worked for the next two, and had Sid screaming in his face for the last two. Max re-racked the huge weight, and sat up breathing hard. Much to his surprise, Sid was breathing just as hard, sweat running down his magnificently handsome ebony face. "Thanks, man," Max said, giving Sid a hug. When they went to let go, Sid held on. "Fuck, Big Man," Sid whispered in his ear. "I gotta have you!" Max put his giant hands on Sid's mountainous traps and squeezed, gently. "Are you sure about that, Sid? I thought you were straight." Sid ripped off his track pants, exposing himself to the entire weight room. "I gotta have it, I gotta have you now!" Max pulled his pants down, the 15 inch monster rising up towards hi pecs. "You think you can handle this, Big Man?" Max said. Sid looked feverish. He'd never seen a dick bigger than his own, certainly not on a white boy. "Give it to me, Big Man," Sid begged. "Give it to me now." And so Max did, right there in the weight room. Most people fled, some people stayed and cheered, one or two girls called campus security, but Sid's fellow teammates blocked the doors and didn't let them in. "It's just a little bench press competition, officers, nothing to get upset about," they told the officers. The footballers outweighed the security guys by about 70-80 lbs. a piece, so the officers weren't overly interested in disagreeing with them. "Just promise us no one's getting hurt, OK?" The big guys were solemn as judges. "Believe us, officers, NO ONE is getting hurt!" After half an hour, Max dragged Sid off the bench and herded him into the Men's Locker Room, which had been likewise vacated and sealed off, where they continued for another hour. Eventually, Max walked back into the weight room, to find Sid's buds waiting patiently. "Did you kill him?" one of him asked. Max put his giant hand on the massive shoulder of the 300 lb. tackle. Herb, he thought. That's his name, Herb Thompson. "Herb, he's fine, man, he's just kinda, like, ya know, tired out," Max said. Herb nodded and headed toward to the locker room with Sid's other friends. "Take care of him, OK?" Max called out. He turned to find Lance Johnson, Emory's star quarterback, all 6'2 and 250 lbs. of him, standing there whimpering like a lost puppy. "Hey, little man, it's OK," Max said. "Did you lose something?" Lance was trembling, his eyes fastened on the massive bulge in Max's sweats. "Or do you need some of what Sid just had?" Max said, reaching down to adjust himself. "I'm still ready to go, ya know!" Lance let out a little yelp and then literally ran to the locker room. Too bad he doesn't run that fast on the field, Max thought to himself. He headed home to find Ralphie and Curt. *** Part 8 Why is the ceiling so far away? Max was flat on his back, his eyes were open, and... "Why am I in the living room?" he asked, no one in particular. A huge form loomed over Max but his eyes refused to focus. "Well, Big Man, there's a good reason for that," a deep voice rumbled. Confusion swept across Max's handsome face. "Sid, is that you?" he asked, innocently. The resulting cackle caused Max's eyes to fly open. Only one person on Earth had that particular laugh! "Ralph?" It was Ralph, in fact, only a new super-sized Ralphie who looked every bit as big as Sid Chastain! Ralph reached down a muscular paw to help Max sit up. "Jesus," Curtis said entering from the bedroom. "I knew you were gonna be big but..." Curt was as big as Ralphie! Max shook his head. "So why the fuck am I sleeping on the floor in the living room?" Ralph and Curtis gave each other guilty glances. "Uh, well, two reasons, Big Man," Ralphie began. "The first is, the three of us don't all fit in the bed..." Curtis snorted. "That's not the real reason," he observed. "When you came home last night you tossed us out of the bed!" Ralph giggled. "But when you got IN the bed, it collapsed," Curtis continued. Max looked from one to the other. "So you think this is funny, do you?" Curtis held up his hands as if to ward Max off. "Hey, look, you're the one who said fuck it and came out here to sleep in the living room," he pointed out, reasonably enough. Ralph was laughing his head off. "Got something to add to that?" Max asked, gruffly. Ralphie wiped his eyes. "Oh, no, not really," he said. "Only that we did fuck it, all night long." Max stood up. And up. And up. He realized he was looking a long way down at Ralphie and Curt. "Damn," Max said. "Just how big am I?" Curtis cleared his throat. "I took the liberty of measuring while you were asleep," he said. "Naturally, these numbers are incomplete." Max glared at him. "You can knock of the mad scientist routine," he said. "Just give it to me." Curtis blushed. "Well, first of all, you're now 7 feet tall," Curt said. "Which I think is an increase of six inches." Max blinked. Seven feet! Shit! "Of course, I couldn't measure around, so I can only guess when it comes to chest and things like that," Curt added. "But your shoulders are 84 inches across." Max thought about that. "My shoulders are seven feet across?!" he asked. Ralphie nodded. "Yep, Big Man, that's the about the size of it," he observed. "You're as wide as you are tall." Curtis continued eagerly, the prize math student with a blue ribbon: "My guess is that based on your shoulder width and height and that your chest measurement is going to be about 160 inches," he declared proudly. "Oh, yeah, and flat on your back it looks like you're about four feet thick." Max felt a stirring in his loins. "And this," he said, reaching down. "Lemme guess -- you got it hard, right, then you measured it, too?" Curtis blushed furiously. "Well, ya know, in the name of science," he said. Max clenched his boulder-sized fists. "21 inches," Ralphie interjected. "And 14 inches around at the thickest point." Max reached out and took each of them in one of his hands, then lifted him up to his eye level. The two of them were light as feathers. "And what about you guys?" he asked. "Six-four, 350," Ralphie managed to choke out. "Six-five, 375," Curtis bleated. Max put them two of them back down. "And me?" he asked. Curtis rubbed his beer-keg sized neck. "Hard to know, Boss," he said. "Until we get you over to the animal scale at the vet school." Ralphie nodded. "But it's a good bet you weigh more than both of us combined," Curtis added. "I'm guessing you're right about 800 lbs." Whoaaa, Max thought. I'm the biggest, most muscular man who ever lived! The thought made his giant anaconda twitch. Max suddenly realized that Ralph and Curt hadn't taken their eyes off it since it had gotten hard. "And just what the hell am I going to do with this?" he growled. *** Part 9 Once Max was standing up, Ralphie and Curt got serious about measuring: As predicted, Max's chest was 160 inches around (they had to string three different 60-inch tape measures together.) His waist was 80 inches but it was perfectly proportioned and tiny compared to his giant chest and his stupendous quads, which measured 90 inches apiece. Each of his eight abs was the size of a large granite boulder. His arms, well, they were works of art, flexed but unpumped his upper arms measured 64 inches, his forearms 50 inches. "I feel like I could bench press a Hummer," Max said when they were done. The stats had had a stimulating effect on Max's huge member, which itself had a mesmerizing effect on Ralph and Curtis, who were staring at it as if it were a very realistic prop from Anaconda. "I gotta fuck," Max said. Ralph gulped, Curtis squeaked. "Unh uh," Ralph said. "Not me," Curt echoed. In a lightning fast move, Max reached out and casually hoisted his best friends to eye level. "And what are you going to do about if I say otherwise?" he asked, politely. Ralphie rolled his eyes. Curt tsk, tsked. "You want to GROW, don't you?" the latter asked. Oh, yeah, Max thought. He dropped the two massive yet-oh-so-small hunks to the floor. "Remember?" Ralph said. "It doesn't work a second time." Max sighed. "So what am I gonna do?" Curtis cleared his throat. "Well, as it happens, I know a horse doctor..." he began. Max glared at him. "Now wait just a minute, Curtis Perkins, if you think..." Ralph interrupted before Max could get any more steamed up. "What I think -- what I know -- Curt is saying is that Dr. Piscatelli knows some people with some very odd tastes." Max thought about that. "Really?" The two nodded. "Well, then," Max said. "What are we waiting for?" * * * Bam! Bam! Bam! "What the hell?" Max growled. Someone was pounding the shit out of his apartment door. In two easy steps he crossed to it and yanked it open. Right off its hinges in fact. "Oops!" Max said. Outside his door was Sid Chastain, a new, bigger Sid Chastain. "Hardesty," Chastain asked. "What the fuck did you do to me?" Damn he's big, Max thought. He opened his mouth... "Yeah," Lance Johnson, that cute little quarterback, said, interrupting the Big Man. "Just what the hell did you DO to him?" Max gurgled. He'd never really had the hots for anyone like he had the hots for Lance Johnson. He's so fucking cute, Max thought. I could... "Looks like he made you even bigger, Big Man," Ralph said, doing his best James Earl Jones imitation. "Just like he made us bigger," Curtis added, giving a Barry White a run for his money. Sid's eye widened. Two more white boys as big or bigger than he was! Well, as big as I was yesterday, he amended. "Looks like Max has done growed you pretty good, too," Ralphie said. Curtis nodded. "You're what, now? About 6'8, maybe? Pushing 500 lbs.?" Lance piped up. "Five-Oh-Seven," he said. "We went by the Vet School." Lance suddenly felt like he was back in 9th grade, huddled with the high school seniors. The smallest of the four men surrounding him outweighed him by 100 lbs. Sid was literally twice his size and Hardesty was at least half again as big as Sid. Fuck, he thought. I'm a fucking dwarf. "So what are you complaining about?" Curt asked. Sid's giant shoulders slumped. "Nothing," he replied. "I'm not complaining about anything. It's just..." Lance crossed his arms and tried to look tough. "He wants more," Lance said. "And I want it, too!" The three geek giants laughed. "Fellas, I hate to disappoint you," Max said. "But I don't have a fucking clue how this works." Ralph nodded. "But it is clear that it only works the first time he fucks someone," he observed. "So you're out of luck, Sid," Curt added. The three of them turned to Lance. "You, on the other hand..." Ralph said. "Would have to deal with that," said Curt, pointing to Max's anaconda. Lance gave it a glance, and nodded. "There's something you need to know about Lance," Sid intoned. The three geeks looked at Lance, who blushed. "He's Dr. Piscatelli's lab assistant for a reason," Sid added. Ralphie and Curt moved in on Sid, each taking one of his giant arms. "Ya know," Curt said. "There's an aspect of this that still needs to be explored." Lance moved towards Max as if he were on an invisible wire. "Let's say we blow this popsicle stand," Ralph added. "And check it out while Max and Lance, uh, get to know each other?" Max's giant hand closed on Lance's rock-solid 32 inch waist. He couldn't quite circle it whole but close enough. He lifted the hot jock to eye level as Sid, Ralph, and Curtis exited the apartment. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" *** Part 10 Slowly, gingerly, with complete control, Max lowered Lance onto his gigantic dick. Lance held onto Max's enormously muscled arms, each of them bigger around than Lance's shoulders, and at 6'2 and 250 lbs. of solid muscle Lance was by no means small. Lance's eyes never left Max's, his expression registering every inch of penetration by Max's gargantuan phallus. He's taking it, Max thought, amazed. He's liking it! Lance's expression bore no trace of pain, no hint of discomfort, only the barest indication of struggle. It's the look of triumph, Max thought. Of conquest, perhaps. It was exactly the same look Lance saw in Max's eyes. As the final, 21st inch was shoved up Lance's ass, as Lance's marble-hard, capable of squatting 750 lbs. for reps, football glutes rested Max's pubes, the expression on both their faces changed again, this time... Ecstasy. Bliss. Union. Grow for me, Max thought. Let me grow for you, Lance replied. And so they did. With every thrust of Max's dick, they grew a little taller, they grew a little heavier, their dicks grew a bit longer. With every moan of pleasure, Lance tightened his ass's grip on Max's mammoth member; every thrust became an opportunity for Lance's hole to caress, to flex, to contort the giant invader. Every moan made Max that much harder, that much stronger, that much more powerful. I'm a God, he thought. A Fucking God, Lance replied. Deus ex fucking muscle machina! They never heard the door open; they never saw Sid and Ralph and Curt, now bonded for life, enter the room and kneel in a circle around them. They never noticed the three huge men jacking their huge cocks while watching Max and Lance fuck and grow. They never heard the cries of bliss as each in turn shot his load on the giant muscle gods in their midst. They were unaware of the sleeping forms surrounding them when at last the two of them came to climax. When at last they pulled apart, the two men were nearly the same size, Lance just a few inches shorter than Max, nearly as broad, nearly as thick. "You make them look like dwarves," Max said, finally noticing their fellow muscle monsters. "You make me look like a dwarf," Lance replied, even now. And then he flexed his 60-inch bicep. "Show me, Big Man," Lance said. Max complied. BOOM! Just the flex alone shook the room. "I'd say that was herculean," Lance pointed out. "But it's too inadequate a word." Ninety-inches of rippling, vascular, rock hard muscle. "It's like a mountain range attached to your shoulders," Lance observed. "And your shoulders are the fucking Himalayas." Max looked down at Lance's monster cock, all 23 inches of it. "Fuck me," Max said. "I want you to fuck me." Lance wrapped his massive paw around Max's 29-inch battering ram. "Are you ready for this, Big Man?" Lance asked. "They told me you've never been fucked before." Max pulled Lance's face to his own, his manly stubble tickling Lance's cheeks as he gave him a gentle kiss. "Let the worlds collide," Max said. *** Epilogue No one ever came up with a credible explanation for what was eventually called the freak experience at Emory that September. No one could explain the disappearance of star quarterback Lance Johnson or sophomore student Max Hardesty or the virtual trashing (unhinged doors, broken walls, etc.) of Max's off-campus apartment. Nor could anyone make a credible suggestion regarding the abrupt enlargement of Emory's other star football player, Sid Chastain, who was suddenly found to be bigger than any player in the NFL, much less college football. And then there were the two Emory walk-ons, Ralph Peters and Curtis Perkins, who were both as big as Chastain had been (or bigger!) Their addition -- and Sid's greatly enhanced size -- more than made up for Johnson's departure. Thanks to their (huge!) presence, Emory literally crushed its competition in the SEC that year and for two years afterwards. Much to everyone's surprise, Peters and Perkins both turned down NFL bids, instead accepting bids from the medical schools of Harvard and Stanford, respectively. Sid was welcomed with open arms by Denver Broncos star Norman Persons; the two were paired off as roommates and soon enough came out, not only as gay, but as a couple, the first openly gay couple in the NFL. * * * Of course, there were six people -- Max, Lance, Sid, Norm, Ralph, and Curt -- who knew the whole story: That Max and Lance decided to go into hiding rather than live their lives in the public eye as a couple of real-life hulks. With Norm providing the funds and the logistics, they hired a custom-fitted tractor / trailer rig to haul the two giant men from Atlanta to a remote area of the Colorado Rockies, where they have lived in seclusion ever since. When they left Emory: Lance carried 1000 lbs. of solid muscle on his 7 ft. tall frame. His chest measured a bit more than 18 feet in circumference and his shoulders were 10 feet across. At 7 feet 6 inches, Max was only half a foot taller than Lance but he was 50% heavier. At 1500 lbs. his chest was 25 feet around and his shoulders 15 feet across, making him exactly twice as wide as tall. Since that time, the six have routinely gathered at "The Hideout," as they call the deluxe mountain compound, to share each others company. As six of the biggest men in the world, connecting with normal-sized men has proven to be a challenge, and so they have stuck together as a matter of course. All of them agreed that getting fucked by Max is what made them huge and that, for whatever reason, it wasn't contagious. At one point or another, the other five (Norm, Sid, Lance, Ralph, Curt) all fucked each other. At one point or another, for that matter, they all fucked Max. Max, though, gave up fucking anyone other than Lance. None of the others have been willing to give his 30-inch monster a go. But why did it make them huge? Could it be repeated? Ralphie and Curt, the first gay couple to jointly win a Nobel prize in biochemistry, have spent their careers trying to answer those questions, to no avail. In the meantime... They keep on fucking! THE END
  16. 10 points
  17. 9 points
    Long time lurker - finally got my fingers down to write a story, and hopefully many more to come. Posted in WarpMyMind (leejhaw) and MuscleGrowth.org (shawnkid). -Chapter 1- Meet Charles "Sup," my roommate nonchalantly greeted me as he walked out his room. My eyes almost fell out of its socket. The reason is apparent - my body-conscious roommate is walking around half naked. Beneath his grey sweatpants, his VPL proves that he's freeballing too. That could only mean one thing - it worked. What I did actually work! It's true - some of us are more susceptive to hypnosis. And it comes in many forms, you have the usual suspects: binaural, subliminal, and the trance, which opens up a wide array of possibilities, especially for a closeted gay man like me. It's financially impossible to live in the city nowadays, especially when the rental is through the roof. Since I'm the only occupant in the one-room studio, it's natural to resort to renting out the room to another person to offset the cost to enjoy the convenience of the centrally-located apartment in the city. The first time I met Charles, he wasn't much of a looker. I blame it on his hair, which is in need of serious professional help. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that did not do justice to a man of his size. He works at the local coffee shop down the road, which explains the coffee scent in his hair whenever he walked past me. I reckoned he's around 25 years old, though I did not actually ask. He promised to clean the entire place once a week, I couldn't be any happier. Truth to be told, I was kind of desperate, and he looked decent enough - at least he has a job - so we shook on a deal. When I stumbled upon the whole new concept of hypnosis, I was thrilled. But, how would I know if it truly worked if I have done so on myself? It wouldn't take anyone much to consider the case of convenience, right under the same roof. I went to the local hardware shop and bought some speakers and downloaded some audio software on my computer. It wasn't easy to get this figure out, but I was really eager to try. When Charles left for work at 7 am, I set my plan in motion. I equipped his room with speakers over the plastic ceiling and wired it across my working desk. So, it would play whatever I needed it to play for an extended period of time, albeit needing to run in and out just to check if the volume is optimal for subliminal tracks to play without causing any distress and potential fallout before the plan see the day of light. I move quickly, knowing that he will come back in the evening after dinner. And the rest will happen throughout the night. My moral conscience would reprimand me if I ruin one's life for my own pleasure. So I decided to start off my experiment with something light. After going through tons of hypnosis books, I attempted to write a hypnosis track that focuses on confidence and preferences. Charles would sleep naked because it's more energy efficient as such - less laundry and less electricity needed to keep cool. He would be more comfortable with his own body, and perhaps begin pay attention to his body more. That should be relatively fine and not qualified as manipulative? I have my doubts, especially on my ever-changing standards. Heh - oh well. I let the track run for a week until one faithful morning - I see my roommate walking out of his room with nothing over his bare torso. I must say, he definitely look better with his shirt off. Why would he hide his toned body over all the baggy shirts - and that would be the next thing to go. And now I know my proof of concept works. I sat back down on my computer and prepared the next script for my dearest roommate, Charles.
  18. 9 points
    Today was not going to be a good day. Jason was getting a new boss. Well, to be precise, the company Jason worked for now had a new owner. Little was known about Mr. White, except that he had enough money to surprisingly up and buy one of the greatest marketing firms in Santa Monica, California. Jason was a little miffed because he was a senior vice-president and he had not been included in much of the process. Of course, he has been traveling around Southeast Asia for three weeks looking for a wishing stone and this takeover had been quick – so quick no one saw it coming. Now, here he was sitting in a boardroom with about eight other people ready to meet his new boss. The doors opened and a frail man of mid to late seventies entered the room. Jason’s hopes disintegrated. The new owner did not look like a happy man. His face seemed to have a permanent scowl and the way two assistants hovered around him made it clear he liked being babied. This new owner was going to be horrible. Jason just knew it. He turned to his co-worker, Dave. “That’s our new boss? I think I need to dust off my resume.” “No, man, that’s the guy’s old man. He’s the one that has most of the money, but he won’t be here. It’s his son that’s the new man in charge. His name’s Sebastian . . . “ Jason heard nothing more of what Dave was saying, for through the door walked what could only be described as daddy sex in a suit. Sebastian White was probably around fifty-five and had the most inviting, cock-exploding smile Jason had ever seen. The silver hair, the green eyes, and the fuck-me-in-the-backroom seventies porn mustache was so perfect that Jason got a little dizzy looking at the man. The room was instantly filled with the same warmth the young guy had felt with his buddies in the cave when they had touched the wishing stone. Jason’s rod shot rock-hard and he panicked about having to stand up to shake hands with his new boss. At the same time, however, he could not take his eyes off of Sebastian. The well-dressed new boss worked his way around the room, shaking hands with each employee and being introduced by the CFO. The man’s face lit up when he saw Jason. He immediately walked up with his hand outstretched. “And I know who this is. It’s great to meet you Jason. I’ve followed your career for a few years now. I’m Sebastian.” “Um . . . It’s good to meet you, Mr. White.” “No, please call me Sebastian. You’re one of the reasons I convinced my father to buy this company. Your reputation precedes you. What you did with the Lowell’s account was nothing but miraculous.” Suddenly, both men realized they were still holding hands. Jason immediately went to pull his away, but Sebastian held on and even tightened his grip for a few seconds. He then let go. Jason’s mind was racing between how gorgeous the man in front of him was to how he had taken a little mom-and-pop shop called Lowell’s and made it into one of the largest retail outfits in the world. It had been a marketing coup, which had ended up making their firm more money than all the other accounts put together. It had secured Jason’s place in the firm, but it had also gotten him hundreds of offers from other places. All of that didn’t matter at the moment, though, because Sebastian was saying something else. “You’re as handsome as everyone said you were, Jason.” “I’m sorry?” “We have a lot of the same friends and they all told me you were quite the stunner. I’d say they were right. Also, that suit is fantastic. Let me guess – Gus at Faulkner’s did it for you.” “Um . . . yes, yes he did. How did you know?” “He does my suits, as well, and I can notice his work anywhere. Those shoes, by the way, are to-die-for. I’m kind of jealous.” “I’m sorry, this is all a little surreal. My bearings are a little off.” “My dear Jason, let me start again. I’m really good friends with John and Mattie Scott. They talk about you all the time. They’ve actually tried to set us up numerous times, but both of our hectic schedules made it not work. It’s probably confusing because they call me Seb.” “Oh my gosh, you’re Seb?” “The one and only.” “To Mattie and John you walk on water!” “Well, I’m not sure about that, Jason, but we are good friends. I can’t believe we never met before. I think it’s mostly because I travel a lot.” “Yeah, if I remember correctly you were out of town almost every other week.” “I try to help take care of all my father’s businesses. And trust me, that’s a lot. It will be good to be here in Santa Monica for a while, though. I’ll be around to get everything settled with the takeover and then I’ll be depending on you to help with things after that.” “What?” “Didn’t Stephen tell you? My father and I would like you to run the office.” “Me? What about Stephen?” “Stephen’s a CFO – and a good one – but we need someone who knows marketing. Jack French is leaving, so we need a new lead person. We believe you’re the best for the job.” “I’m . . . uh . . . wow, thank you. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you’d be leading the firm.” “Well, I’ll be involved a little, but we feel you are the right man for the job. Besides, if I was in charge it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to ask you out.” “Um . . . excuse me?” “I’d still like to go out with you. It would make Mattie and John happy – especially Mattie, she’ll be over the moon excited. It’s okay, if you’re not interested . . . now that you met me, but I’m still interested.” “No! I am. Really. It’s just that all of this is happening so fast. I mean it’s just that you’re handsome as hell and . . . oh crap, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I meant to say that you’ve just bought our company and . . . “ “Technically, my dad bought the firm – not me. So, I’m handsome as hell, huh?” “Um . . . Sebastian, I’m sorry. I was just saying what was in my head . . . I mean, I was just thinking out loud… No, that’s not what I meant. Oh forget it. Yes! You’re very handsome.” “Very handsome? I think I like handsome as hell more.” “Okay, handsome as hell. There, are you happy?” “Well, not completely, you haven’t said yes to a date.” “Oh yeah . . . okay, yes, I’d love to go out with you.” “I have tickets to the opera tonight. Shall we take in a little Verdi and then have a late dinner?” “It’s the grand gala tonight at the opera. Tickets have been gone for months. How did you get those?” “I bought them three months ago, when I found out my dad was buying this firm. I figured a guy like you would appreciate the finer things in life, so I got the tickets in hopes you would say yes to a date. And now I’m the luckiest guy on earth.”
  19. 8 points
  20. 8 points
    I’ve been busy with life and been using discord more then here. But as requested here are some new photos of my suit!! the photos of me in the green shirt are taken from the night before last. So they’re the most recent!
  21. 8 points
  22. 7 points
    well some photos won’t upload but is one more. My personal favorite one!
  23. 7 points
    I'm very sorry for the delay. Things are very hectic at work but I have some vacation coming up. So the next part will be up (I have part of it ready) somewhere next week.
  24. 7 points
    Just as promised, Friday has ended, but I’ve brought you the next part of A gift to remember. It’s nice to see people liked it, specially after a rough day. Enjoy! (Any mistake done, I blame the iPad and my lack of sleep ) Part 3 So, now I’m the 7ft tall masculine hunk of my dreams… now what to do? My cum was totally delicious, and with a little help from the ring I got everything clean again. With that taken care of, what shall I do now? I’m totally horny, but also want to talk to Jim about this. Besides, as far as I know I now possess an all-powerful ring… man I sometimes hate my own morality code. I’ll think about how to help other people after having a little fun first. Also, a 17in hard-rock cock is a little distracting at the moment. Let’s see… Grindr, here it is. Now, who do I want to come over? Decisions, decisions, who do I want to fuck with? First question, top or bottom? …I have an idea, where is he? After looking through several conversations here he is, Kevin: hot latino guy, copper skin, dominant, and the possibility to turn that 5’3’’ lean guy into a beefcake. This is gonna be fun. -Hey there! -What’s up man? Want more cock? -Maybe… just relaxing here at home and bored -Yeah right, you’re a total man-whore you know that? -Me? Yes, why shall I deny it. But you liked it, didn’t you? -Yes dude, it was totally awesome to fuck you -I’m still challenging you to hold yourself from cumming as long as you can while having your cock in my ass… and repeat at least 2 or 3 times -Little bitch, you don’t want me to be merciful, do you? -You’d be surprised… (and will be hehe) Want to come over or not? -Can I make you moan again by getting my cock inside you ass with just one thrust? -You promise to cum inside me? -Deal Now the awful wait before fucking begins, I just hope he comes. In the meantime, I’ll check my wardrobe. Hmf, the boxers don’t go up past my knees… right now a little impractical, but it’s getting me turned on. What a moron: I wish all my clothing fits comfortably and skin-tight. Now, before I get too excited, I’m taking off the ring and keep it in a safe place. Except from Jim, I don´t want anyone else to know about it. Also, I don’t want to depend a lot on it. Before he arrives, let’s get dressed. Wow, this magic is amazing, it barely goes up, but it doesn’t rip. So soft and tight. Now jeans…. As usual, these things are more difficult than they seem. I can barely get my feet inside the jeans, and my cock doesn’t get enough room at the front. Cool, I’ve always wanted to squeeze my cock through the leg of a trouser. That thought had a side effect when I pulled up the zipper: a python started crawling through my leg. Now the t-shirt: god, the cloth fibers are hanging on for their dear life to my pecs, delts and bis. Wow, even the v-neck looks hot, all the way down showing my hairy chest. At last but not least, just for a little fun, a jacket. As I suspected, arms barely fit and it doesn’t go past my pecs. I was about to start jerking off myself when the doorbell rang. -Come in! It’s open! -Chris? You sound different… are you ok? -Just a “little” different, I hope you’re not too surprised. -Why would I be sur… whoa! Who the hell are you and what did you do to Chris, you behemoth!?! -Kev, relax for a moment…-I said while I grabbed his shoulder, I could sware I saw a hard-on in his pants- look at me carefully -Chris?!? But how?! -This is going to be fun, but I don’t want to break his mind- -Let’s not worry about that right now, come on and kiss me -But… That’s when I planted my lips on his. No one h ever complained about my kisses, it’s exactly the opposite. Everyone wants more. It’s just about going a little deep, and a lot of passion. Like I always say, try to do an endoscopy with your mouth. However, this process wasn’t easy being 7ft tall and crouching to 5ft. Also, I want him to remember the whole process, but I don’t want to go too fast, at least not at the beginning. While he started to put his arms around my bull-neck, I tried to concentrate to make him taller at a slow pace. I say try because I was starting to get lost in those almond eyes that looked at me with lust and desire. I slowly started to straighten up my body as his got bigger. -Man, I really enjoyed that kiss. I’m getting you undressed stud. But what….. I’m looking you in the eye now?! -Kev, relax and enjoy. You always wanted this, didn’t you? -he just nodded- Then leave logic behind and tell me what is your desire. -I want a blowjob, to face-fuck you and try to chalk you with my cock. -Your wish is my command. By the way, I can be a cock-driven slut when I want to, and right now all I crave is cock, big, fat delicious cock. I got on my knees and got started. I heard a little moaning, but I also had other plans…. While I was sucking cock I started to picture it bigger and wider. It felt great to accommodate such a big mushroom in my mouth. At the same time the moaning coming from Kev got louder, I was going well. I decided that, for the moment, I would leave him at the 15in mark. That’s when he started to be the dominant Kev I like: he grabbed my head and pushed it all the way in. I almost chalked but took it, I could only feel it making its way toward my esophagus. -Yet this big but still a professional cock sucker. We’re not done yet you know? I’m breeding you until I’m satisfied. Yeap, dominant Kev was getting over rational Kevin. I’m not complaining though. Just making adaptations to get all that cock and being able to breathe, suck and enjoy. You’d think in all this process I left Kev a tall skinny pole? Absolutely not. When I felt his cock stopped getting longer, I gave him a bubble butt I could easily grab. That only got him more excited, gotta hurry. Now, big balls the size of pomegranates able to produce one or two gallons of sweet cum with each orgasm. Not sooner had I thought of that when I felt the warm cum going down my throat at an accelerated pace. -I’m not done yet Chris, you became the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, now you get all the cum I can give you. He came again and again. I could only feel my belly growing. I guess I have a roid-gut now, or should I say a cum-gut hehe? I don’t know how long we were like that, but at some point he pulled out. That’s when stood up and started kissing him, getting all messy with the cum. After a few kisses, he pushed me against the wall, grabbed my by the neck gently but firmly at the same time and said: “Time to open those legs for me stud". No sooner said than done, we were on my bed, I was on my back with my legs wide open giving Kevin a perfect view of my hole. -I didn’t think it was possible, but it looks tighter than the last time, ready Chris? He hadn’t even finished the sentence when I felt all his monstrous cock all the way inside me, I could only squeak in pain an start moaning in pleasure. -Oh yes! So fucking tight! Such a big ass with such a tight hole! You like it? -I was drooling and could only nod in approval- I asked if you liked it! -and with that question he pushed himself all the way in, until all of his cock was engulfed by my ass and I was starting to see stars. All what came out of my mouth was a loud moan- That’s more like it Chris, moan for me! Here’s when my plan comes to life and Kevin’s body begins to change: a perfect V-shape, with lots so wide he has to make a 45-degree with his arms too, delts like cannonballs, to continue only with powerful arms that are at least 30in wide. That magnificent torso has to be attached to a 28in waist, just o be continued by tree-trunks that have a 20in cock right in the middle. That’s right, I said 20in while he is still inside me. I cannot describe how amazing it felt a growing cock in my ass. Also, Kevin’s pounding became stronger with every new change. What began as a lamp-post fucking a muscle beast had turned into two muscle beasts fucking like animals. Now it was my turn to get some fun. I started moving my hips to get his cock even deeper, if that was even possible, grabbed the back of his head and started kissing him until, after a few minutes I got the response I was looking for: -Chris, I don’t know how you fucking do it, but I wanna cum. You have such a grant ass and use it so well, that I don’t want this to end… Please Chris, a little long…… Ah fucking bastard! I’m cumming!!! Still got it, a few moves and gripping at the right moment to milk a top. The warm cum started to flow inside me and my gut just got bigger. I could see the ten-pack going further. After a long time, Kev finally finished. -Dude, you do it every time. I can’t last long inside you! Your ass is incredible! -Tell me something I don’t know Kev…. You know I like to milk tops with my ass. -But who says I’m done with you? -I’m not saying that by any chance. Ready for round 2? -Of course man! Just do me a favor, get all that cum out of your ass and let me see it. I got on my belly and gave Kevin a perfect view of my ass. I started taking out all that cum. All I could hear was Kev moaning and encouraging me to continue. I turned around a little and saw Kevin jerking off furiously. I resumed my task and suddenly felt the full weight of Kevin on my back at the same time I felt full again. I let out a long loud moan. -Bastard, couldn’t resist shoving all the way…. agh… right….agh…… in, could you? -You know what I like. And now that I’m as big as you, you’re mine, you know that? -he said while grabbing my hair and pushing deeper into my ass. I was shivering with all that pleasure. I also gripped his cock as hard as I could- Oh, Chris wants to play dirty? He grabbed my shoulders and started pounding my ass again, in and out, all the way out, only to get it all back in at a fast pace. I was drooling, almost totally gone from an overwhelming pleasure. He turned me around and, while still fucking me, engulf my cock. That’s when I lost it: I started cumming. Stream after stream down Kevin’s throat. He was now getting a gut attached to yah small waist. I also began to feel the warm cum inside my ass. I lost track of time. And before I knew it, I fell asleep still impaled with a huge cock. Best sex ever, and it’s just the beginning…. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ That’s it for now guys, I’m probably getting more plot for the next time, specially what will Chris do besides having sex and be top next time (not that I would complain if I were in his place). Maybe I'll get him to talk to his crushes and try to make a move on one of them. Hope you enjoyed and see you next time!
  25. 6 points
    If you like it let me know and i will continue making it. _________________________________________ A muscular white man was sitting next to a sleeping baby. He had a dark red beard and hair and bright green eyes. He sat with crossed arms wich made his big biceps bulge and wide open huge legs. His eyes looked tired but he kept a beautiful happy grin. -Markus, darling- a beautiful woman entered to the room. She put her hands on top of his husband huge shoulders. -Matthew will be fine don't worry- - I know i know, sorry. I was just wondering how he will be when he grows up, you know?- - I bet he will be as hung as his father- she said as one of her hand travelled past his balloon like pecs and grabbed his enormous package. Markus laughed in a deep manly voice. - not in front of the baby darling!- he stood up and kissed his wife in the mouth and as he lifted her he said - let's go to bed- ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1 Matt woke up from what had been a horrible nightmare. He didn't remember the details but it had to do with his mother. He walked to the bathroom with a slow pace, it was saturday. His 5.6 feet body felt tired although he hadn't made any exercise the day before. He stood in front of the mirror, his deep blue eyes were the first thing that you would notice in his face. Then short hair black as coal and a cute face structure. His body was lean and hairless, he was what you would define as a twink even though he wasn't gay. He entered the shower and started washing his puny body. Today it was his 17 birthday but there was not going to be any celebration. When he had finished washing his 6 inches dick he dried his hair and went out of the shower with the towel on his waist. Matt felt his stomach rumble and decided to grab something to eat. He went down the stairs to the kitchen and opened the door. There he found his father ,Markus preparing a sandwich. Although he was already 45 years old he was still huge. His arms where as big as a basketball and his thighs looked as if they could break the world in two. His shoulder were really broad and his pecs covered with manly dark hair, looked gigantic to any human beings. He was just wearing boxer that could barely contain his round big ass and huge crotch. He didn't have the abs he had before but his belly was still flat and looked hard. -Hello dad- Matt said walking rapidly ro the fridge. Markus didn't answer he just growled. He was as gloomy as always since matt’s mother died. They never talked to each other a lot, just some “hello” and “goodbye” now and then. Markus sat his 7feet tall body in his couch and scratch his bulge obscenely. The doorbell rang and suddenly Matt was excited. He opened the door and as planned uncle Henry was coming to visit. He was younger than his dad, 35 years old and plays rugby with younger men. He is 6.5feet tall of raw muscle and masculinity power and much more fun than his dad. Golden grows over his head and his body stretches the rugby uniform. He has the greatest ass Matt has ever seen and although he is not gay he always thought about how it would feel to grab it. -we are going on a road trip- the visitor said ------------------------------------------------------------- -So I got two rooms one for you and your father and the other one for me- Markus didn't really know how they had gotten there. He had asked his brother to come to celebrate his son's birthday so he wouldn't to do it himself and now the were on a cabin in the middle of nowhere going to share a room with his son. Is not that he doesn't love his son, it’s just that he could never relate to him and when his wife died the bond just… broke. But his brother seemed really excited about it so he wasn't going to say anything. As the sun hided behind the mountain they decided to go to sleep. There was an awkward moment when Mark and Matt entered the room and saw that they will be sharing the same queen bed. Markus undressed and got inside the bed, a little bit afterwards he felt his son doing the same. As he slept he remembered how he used to sleep with his wife. His dick got hard. ------------------------------------------------------------- Matthew was woken up at 8:00AM by the smell of bacon and eggs. His dad's arm was on top of him not letting him stand up. He grabbed his powerful bicep and with a lot of caution he moved it. He stood up and glanced the sleeping body of his father, he was occupying most of the bed with his muscle. Matt wasn't prepared for what he saw in the kitchen, his uncle was standing naked while cooking and singing. -Oh! You are awake come here!- Henry turned around to receive his nephew. For his age he had a tight six pack and beautiful pecs. He looked like one of those 25 year old rugby players but with the face of a model. But the most shocking thing was his huge dong and 8 inches flaccid monstrosity that hanged between his hard rock legs. It was a fat cock and Matt couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have its weight on his hands. Henry hugged Matthew and grabbed his ass pressing his cock on the young’s man abs. -YOU HAVE A NICE ASS SON!- Henry said. And he was right, a precious bubble but steached his pants and bounced with each step. - what are you cooking?- Matt said trying to ignore the awkward moment that he just lived. -Oh this?- Henry said as he stood behind him and grabbed his shoulder to get him closer to the cooking pan. -This is my special recipe- now he pressed his huge cock in Matt's butt and moved his mouth closer to his right ear as he whispered in a deep voice. -Uncle Henry's recipe- now Matt was uncomfortable, he could feel through his jeans the hard pressing hot roid of his uncle starting to move. -what are you doing?- Markus had woken up and he was standing confused as the sight of his naked brother with his son. Henry jumped scared by the voice and took a step away from Matt. -Nothing I was just showing your son the breakfast aaaaand i think its ready! Let's eat!- As they were eating in the table Matt felt Henry's hand touching his leg and crotch. It will be a long weekend
×