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Showing content with the highest reputation since 02/19/2024 in all areas

  1. Longer one, hope you enjoy! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5: Summer break arrived, grim as a prison sentence. To be away from Frank for mere hours felt like torture. Especially now that I was a full-blown roid pig, and my sex drive was insatiable. How was I going to survive back home for three months? For his part, Frank was just as upset. He had to stay on campus for football training — same dorm room, no me. “Will you promise me something?” he asked on my last day, as we lay in bed together. I was tracing my fingers through the violent grooves of his eight pack. “Of course, what is it?” I was expecting him to ask me to remain faithful, to not mess around with other guys. Now that I looked like this, I attracted leers anywhere I went, from men and women alike. Everyone wanted me. But that’s not what Frank was talking about. “Don’t stop lifting and growing this summer,” he said. “I want to see you get even bigger. I want you to keep eating, keep cycling. Stay focused on muscle all summer. All day, every day. Come back even bigger than you are now. Come back so big, people will gasp when they see you. So big they won’t even recognize you. James, your body has already responded better than I had hoped. You’re a hunk now, but I can make you a freak. A muscle freak. So huge. We’ll make you so big. 290, maybe even 300 pounds. Oh my god bro... Fuck....Big as a pro bodybuilder. Bigger. The two of us. Waddling around campus. Fucking and fucking nonstop. Two muscle freaks. One tall, one short. Sex every hour. All that muscle. Muscle, sex. Roids. Fucking beasts. Huge. So huge. Muscle, big muscle, so strong, so much muscle, so much musc-- oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck James! I can’t handle it. Holy shit! UNHHHH!” Frank grabbed behind my neck with one huge hand, and stuck his tongue down my mouth forcefully. At the same moment, his dick sprayed a huge load without warning or even any touch. Rope after rope shot up and landed in Frank’s beard and on his veiny neck. I counted 8 ropes! All while he kissed me passionately -- almost desperately. This happened anytime Frank talked about my muscle growth. Nothing turned him on more, not even his own muscular development. The second he started to envision me growing bigger, he'd burn beet red, wheeze loudly. His eyes would unfocus and look manic. His cock would shoot up as fast as a soldier's salute. As a rule, he'd eventually devolve into muttering "muscle" over and over again, like an incantation, until he came spontaneously. These would always be his biggest loads (which is really saying something). Each time Frank spiraled like this, his fantasies got more extreme. First it was bulking me up to 230 pounds, now it was 300. Of course, I couldn't have been more turned on either. I loved watching him lose control like this. I also started to realize that these fantasies could actually become a reality. I was almost 19, and already 225 pounds. To become a genuine mass monster, even a professional bodybuilder, suddenly felt plausible, especially while Frank was around. Laying beside him, I stroked my bulging pecs, arms, shoulders, quads, glutes... I was still blown away by their size. I soon came a load almost as large as Frank's. His fantasy was now my reality, my goal. -- So I had my marching orders for the summer. I also had (thanks to Frank) a year's worth of tren packed in my suitcase. With a heavy heart, it was time for me to head home. We had one last, incredible fuck session. Then another one. Then another one. Then finally, realizing I was about to miss my flight, I called an Uber and dashed off. Frank's dry cum still coated me underneath my super-tight clothes. The aroma of his pits was on my face in the cab, which gave me a throbbing boner the entire ride to the airport. I was 5'9, 18 y/o, 225 pounds. Tight denim jeans tearing inside the crotch. Light blue college t-shirt so tight you could see every ridge of my abs, both my nipples, my thick upper pecs almost touching my chin. Whenever I glanced at my reflection in a mirror or window, I was astonished at how wide I looked -- and also how obscene. Like a bodybuilder in the first minute of a gay porno, wearing ridiculous, undersized clothes. Stares from every direction as I rushed through the airport to board my plane. The gay flight attendant did a double take when he welcomed me on board. For a second, his mouth was agape. I winked, and he went red. I knew I looked like a fantasy cooked up in a lab. I approached my seat. A small, nerdy kid with glasses my same age -- no doubt on his way home from college as well -- regarded me with terror. I weighed a hundred pounds more than him, even though we were about the same height. As I stretched to stow my bag in the overhead bin, my tight shirt left my slightly hairy, washboard abs exposed. My bulging crotch was one inch from the kid's face. I'm sure he could smell the cum and sweat inside. I sat down beside him, my weight shaking the plane seat. All the color drained from his cheeks. The plane took off. The cabin lights dimmed, and almost everyone fell asleep. This was my first time in a plane seat since my "growth spurt." My shoulders and arms jutted well into the nerd's personal space. My hard tricep rubbed against his sad, noodley arm. I kept thinking how, just six months ago, I was this geek's size. We were probably the exact same age, yet I could do military presses with his body and not even break a sweat. Maybe even with one arm. I thought: Should I apologize for how much space I was taking up? I really was encroaching a full quarter into his seat. My bulging shoulder was digging into his tiny body. (The other one jutted into the aisle, so no one could pass by without brushing it.) My arm wasn't even on the arm rest, that's how wide I was. Then I noticed that the nerd was awkwardly covering up a boner in his lap. "Heh," I laughed under my breath. I turned my bulging neck and looked him in the eyes. I winked. He went as red as a firetruck. Now I was feeling arrogant. Discreetly, without anyone noticing, I grabbed his wrist and laid it on my bicep. I flexed, and the little nerd squeezed as hard as he could. (Not very.) Then I guided his tiny arm up under my shirt. I let him feel my pecs. I bounced them up and down as he groped them pathetically. His grip suddenly weakened. "Uff!" he whimpered. I saw a dark spot growing in his pants. My huge muscles had just made him cum. "Good boy," I whispered, and pushed him away, before anyone noticed. Fun as this mile-high muscle worship was, I was already missing Frank. I scrolled through the hundreds of X-rated pictures and videos of him on my phone, both heartbroken and incredibly aroused. Pics of us together when I was just 180 pounds, and he was 375. Videos of me pounding him doggy style, his back muscles jiggling. I could feel the nerd's prying eyes on my screen. I stumbled upon a recent, shirtless, chest-up picture of Frank, from his 430-pound era. He was smiling, as handsome as a movie star, but his furry pecs and shoulders looked so shockingly pumped that the nerd gasped. "Your...boyfriend?" he asked meekly. "You could say that," I replied. "Oh my God. He's... huge," he whispered, looking at Frank's picture in disbelief. He was spellbound. Now I had a painful erection. I lowered the seat back tray to hide it. But my heart was heavy. Three months apart. It sunk in. What if Frank found someone new? Someone even bigger than me? Vague jealousy burned like flames in my mind. I felt more motivated than ever to grow this summer. I'd come back so huge that Frank would be shocked, so big he could never find someone hotter than me. So big, so fucking big, so much muscle... my mind looped and looped, just like Frank's. Maybe it was the tren. The nerd watched as I took out a two-pound Tupperware container. Ground chicken, brown rice. 120 grams protein. It was a four-hour flight, and I had three of these meals to eat. -- To say my parents were horrified would be an understatement. At the airport, they didn't even recognize me at first. "It's me, it's James," I assured them. Even my voice was deepened by the roids. They hugged me like I was a science-fiction monster, confused and alarmed. You have to remember that the last time they had seen me, just six months prior, I was a lean, 155-pound kid. Now I was 225 pounds. I had told them I was bigger, that I'd been lifting, but not much else. Now, their charming, sensitive, academically inclined son was a roided-out meathead, more muscular than a Chippendale's dancer. Voice deeper, face wider but still jarringly boyish on a thick neck that stretched my shirt collar. Obscene, veiny muscles bulging everywhere -- ass, shoulders, pecs, arms, traps -- beastly, erotic bulges attracting stares from all corners. The next few days were pretty awful. Long fights ensued. Vehement lectures about the dangers of steroids (which I denied using, lol). Insistence that I see a psychiatrist for "bigorexia." But I knew what body dysmorphia was, and I didn't have it. I didn't think I was small. I thought I was huge. And I loved it. And now the only thing I wanted was to get bigger. All my parents’ anxieties and pressure didn’t amount to much when I thought of the sweaty, hairy, 430-pound muscle bottom that was waiting for me back at school. Frank’s special kind of madness had infected me. Logical reason fell by the wayside. All that mattered anymore was muscle and sex. With horror, it dawned on my parents that not only had I transformed utterly...I wasn't finished yet! I hadn't lined up a single thing to do that summer except train and eat and cycle on more and more gear. No internship, no summer job, no friends or social life even. Just gym and consuming shocking amounts of protein, day in, day out. Every now and then, I might come across a hulking gorilla at the gym or on Grindr, and I'd fuck their brains out. But those were my only, occasional distractions. If that was cheating on Frank, then it hardly counted, because Frank had spoiled me for sex. Guys smaller than 230 pounds no longer interested me -- and even when I found a roided-out muscle bottom, he'd never have a cock as massive and beautiful as Frank's was, or a face as handsome, or lips as soft. By my 19th birthday, late in June, I was 235 -- up a full ten pounds from my last weigh-in, and yet leaner and more defined than ever. My parents pretty much cut me off. They'd still pay for college in the fall, they said, but they didn't want to underwrite the money I was spending on food and new clothes and probably steroids that summer. Yet I soon realized that I could make a fortune doing cam shows, just flexing and jerking off for ridiculous rates, and could even raise my prices as I grew bigger and freakier each week. (Being hung didn’t hurt either.) So money became a non-issue. It poured in. In fact, I was making more than my parents did, unbeknownst to them. By early August, I was 250 pounds, a number that shocked even me. By then, my largest shirts fit like crop tops and left my well-defined abs exposed. Finally, my parents put their foot down. Either I see a psychiatrist, or they would stop paying my tuition. Reluctantly, I agreed. Through a stroke of luck, this ultimatum totally backfired on them. Within seconds of meeting my handsome, 30-something psychiatrist ("call me Justin") I realized he was gay. I could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure as he looked me up and down. As soon as the door of his office closed, I literally tore off my shirt. I practically leapt over his desk and shoved his face in between my pecs, forced him to suck on my perfect nipples. I flexed a bicep (21 inches) and pushed it into his face. He moaned and slobbered all over my peak, then huffed my musky pits. I swiped all the stuff off his desk -- it crashed on the floor -- and I roughly laid him out on the surface. I picked him up and started doing military presses with his body, over and over, with perfect form. I could tell from the bulge in his pants how much he was loving my show of strength. Then I laid him down on the chaise lounge (where I was supposed to be in therapy). I sat on his face, and enjoyed the frantic, overwhelmed way he ate out my bubble butt, no doubt the most muscular one he had ever seen. The shrink quickly came in his nice slacks. But I wasn't through with him. I flipped around and shoved my 8-inch cock down his throat. At first he nearly choked, but eventually managed to suck me dry. My load was enormous. All this worship had made me more horned up than I'd been in months. I started to put my tattered, indecent clothes back on. "That's all the time we have for today," I joked as I walked out the door -- knowing he'd never forget how good my ass looked as I left. -- A few days later, I overheard Dr. Justin debriefing my parents on our session on speakerphone. "Mr. and Mrs. Keller, you have nothing to worry about. James shows no signs of body dysmorphia or any other psychiatric disorder. Bodybuilding is a perfectly legitimate sport, and you should be encouraging James for his dedication and hard work. In fact, I'm a little disappointed that you have been so dismissive of James's athletic goals." My mom fell for it, hook, line and sinker. "Oh, God, you're right. How could we have been so unsupportive? I feel terrible." But my dad raged. "Encouraging THIS!? But the boy looks like a FREAK!" “Mr. Keller, I don’t think words like ‘freak’ are helpful here.” "Honey, listen to the doctor. We need to support James." "But what about the steroids?!" "In my medical opinion, I see no signs that James is abusing steroids. After speaking with him, it is my belief that he simply has excellent adherence to his diet and exercise regimen -- as well as a genetic predisposition for muscular hypertrophy." "BUT HE'S GROWING FIVE POUNDS A WEEK! THE KID HAS 21-INCH ARMS!" "Ron! Don't second-guess the doctor. He's the expert here." "Well, all of this being said, I do think James would benefit from continuing therapy. Maybe you could send him back to my office?" -- Although my dad wasn't happy, that was the end of the fighting. My parents yielded to my increasingly extreme lifestyle and size. Emboldened, I dramatically increased my tren and macros, and by the end of the summer, I was teetering at 265 pounds, up a full 40 pounds since June, and 110 pounds since January. I wasn't just training my muscles… As long as I'd known Frank, I'd never been able to bottom for him. His 10.5" dick was too much for me. I couldn’t even get it inside me. So all summer, I was practicing with bigger and bigger toys, getting ready to ride his almost fist-sized cock the day we reunited. Even though Frank was on my mind constantly, we hadn't corresponded much. It was pointless to text or call him. He lived in the moment, whether lifting or eating or fucking or practicing, and barely looked at his phone. The messages I sent would sit unread for days, driving me into a frenzy of insecurity. The few messages I got back were dashed off in pidgin English. ("miss u 2 bro, iam jo 2u rn. still growin??") Sometimes I thought he was barely literate. Plus, there was a tacit understanding between us that we didn't want to reveal too much. We both wanted to be shocked by each other's growth when we finally reunited in person. Imagine what Frank is going to think when he sees me. That was all I thought, day in and day out, as I pounded protein shakes, pushed barbells, and pegged myself in my locked bedroom. One hot August afternoon, as a twelve-inch dildo ripped through my bubble butt, I came the biggest load of the whole summer, picturing the shock on Frank's face when he'd finally see me next week. -- The day came. I was returning to college for sophomore year. Unlike my last flight, this time, I knew I was far too big to fly coach. I just wouldn't fit. So I used some of my cam money to upgrade to First Class. Even in the larger seats, my lats spilled out comically. A tank top, barely a scrap of fabric, left half my pecs and both nipples completely exposed. It was pretty fun to watch the other passengers trudge by, the look of shock on their faces when they saw a 265-pound, 19-year old bodybuilder looking back at them arrogantly. I made sure they all had to brush past my veiny arm, which jutted into the aisle. Especially the nerds around my age, whom I took special pleasure in intimidating. I didn't eat any of the First Class food, though. I brought seven pounds of ground beef and rice in three huge Tupperware containers. Spent most of the flight stuffing my face, trying not to leak too much pre-cum thinking about my growing muscles -- and of the furry, wheezing, waddling mass monster that was waiting for me back on campus. Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank. After I was done eating my Tupperware meals, I started rubbing my bulging chest, flexing my arms, turned on by my own mass. The other people in First Class glared at me. I’ll admit, my behavior and appearance were pretty shocking. My dick got so painfully hard that I needed to rub one out. I stuffed myself into the airplane bathroom, barely able to close the door. I felt like a sardine. Then I looked in the mirror. I almost came on the spot. I could not believe how massive I had become. I pulled my cock out of my sweatpants and flopped it on the tiny bathroom counter. I looked back at my reflection and immediately orgasmed. I sprayed a load all over the little sink and mirror. I flexed for a few more minutes, totally stunned. I half-heartedly cleaned up the mess, then waddled back to my seat to drink a protein shake. — My flight had been delayed, and I got to our dorm quite late -- almost 2am. Everyone on campus was asleep. I stood outside our door. New year, same little cinder-block dorm room. We had pulled some strings to stay paired together another year. My heart pounded. I was completely hard. Just imagine what Frank will think when he sees me. Even as I reached for the door handle, the enlarged size of my veiny forearm caught my eye. A warm feeling surged through my cock. The room was pitch black. I heard Frank’s typical snoring and closed the door quietly, trying not to wake him. The scent of sweat and muscle and cum was overpowering, like a smack in the face. It conjured the countless fuckfests we'd had in the room over the past year. My dick throbbed with pleasure and anticipation. I even started moaning out loud, that's how horned up I felt. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. I realized the mattress was on the floor for some reason, no bed frame -- and the huge, dark mound on the mattress must be Frank. I set my bag down, then peeled off my clothes silently. Now I was completely naked. My dick was pulsating from Frank's pheromones and my months of waiting. I tiptoed towards the mattress in the center of the room, stepping on jock-straps, cum-stained bodybuilding mags, empty vials of tren... Same loud snores. Frank could sleep through anything. I climbed into bed with him. I got under the covers. I nestled next to him, so I was big spoon. Frank's naked body felt molten hot as I ran my fingers through his fur. Impossible to describe his scent. Even in the darkness, just tactilely, I could tell something was different. This was Frank, but this wasn't Frank's same body. For example, I cupped one of his shoulders with both of my hands, yet even two hands couldn't encompass his delt -- that's how enormous he was. Cuddling him from behind, I couldn't even reach around his lats; he was too wide. My fingers grew more restless as I realized he was far, far larger than the last time I saw him. In disbelief, I groped his sleeping muscles, squeezed his neck, caressed his beard, the stubble on the back of his head... Frank snorted loudly and flipped onto his back, almost crushing me in the process. But he didn't wake up. Frank started to talk in his sleep. "Fuck...Muscle bro...Fuckin' huge...Muscle...Freak...Musc..." he muttered. Then he resumed snoring even louder. Now I could feel his pecs. I delicately kneaded them, toyed with his sensitive nipples. ("Unnh!" Frank cried unconsciously.) Yes, they were much bigger too. Hard to tell how much bigger in the dark. I was in a silent frenzy. I could have cum right then and there. Yet I decided to reach down further. I felt it. Frank's 10.5" cock, as hot and hard as I had dreamed of it. I tasted some of the pre-cum that dribbled out. I had to do it. I had to ride him. I very quietly stood up, stripped the blanket off of his body. I squatted over Frank's cock and guided it into my massive bubble butt. I just used a bit of spit for lube. Even in his dreams, Frank was leaking so much pre that I didn't need much else. All the training I had subjected myself to that summer was leading here. Frank was still asleep as he entered me. I cried out in pain. Then the pain subsided and pleasure rushed over me like nothing I'd ever felt before. I slowly thrust up and down, taking more and more, until he was inside me up the hilt. I was legit crying tears of joy as Frank unwittingly tore through my ass -- feeling like the type of huge muscle bottom I'd always fantasized about. I started thrusting my ass faster and faster as I rode him. Then suddenly a change came over Frank. He didn't wake up, but some kind of animal spirit inside of him did. His super-strong hands clasped my waist, and suddenly he was thrusting harder and harder. Pounding me. "AHHHHH!" I screamed, unable to stay quiet any longer. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" I roared with each thrust. The feeling was so intense, I was about to pass out. Then Frank truly woke up. "WHAT THE -- what the FUCK?" he yelled out in confusion as I rode his cock in the darkness. I must have looked like a huge dark shape bouncing up and down on his boner. "AH! AH! AH AH!" I moaned, incapable of even forming words. I was starting to black out, the room was receding, but I couldn't stop riding Frank. It felt too incredible. Then Frank groped for a lamp near the bed. He clicked it on. A blinding light filled the room. I realized why the mattress was on the floor. The wooden bed frame had evidently buckled -- its wreckage was piled in the corner of the dorm room. I looked down at Frank, he looked up at me. We saw each other for the first time in three months. All while 10.5 inches of him were inside me. I'll cut to the chase. Frank was 470 pounds. He had gained 40 pounds of mass that summer. His arms had grown to 26 inches. His furry pecs were so enormous that from my angle, riding him, they actually hid most of his face. His cheeks were fuller and his face was broader from all the gear, yet he was as handsome as ever, even with a stunned look in his eyes. Then you have to imagine Frank's POV, bright light suddenly on, looking up and seeing his roommate, now a 265-pound gorilla, riding his cock for the first time ever, pectorals and hard cock flopping up and down. "J--James?" "FRANK!" (In unison) "OH MY GOD! UNNNNNNNH!!!!" As his load GUSHED into my hole, mine exploded all over his mega-pecs and his beautiful face. The biggest load I'd ever produced. His face was completely coated, like a mask. We both came and came and came and came and came. Our muscles were shuddering and quivering post-orgasm. The harsh light of the bedside lamp made our bodies look all the more freakish and unreal. Two absolute monsters, roid pigs, 19 years old, 735 pounds of muscle between us. Frank's sensitive cock was still deep inside me, gushing warm sperm deeper and deeper. We locked eyes. Underneath a veil of cum, I could tell Frank was smiling devilishly. That was how our sophomore year began.
    59 points
  2. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 4: As soon as I started cycling, lifting and eating with Frank, my body responded better than I could have hoped. The night I first agreed to take steroids, I was 18 years old, 5’9, 155 pounds. I was in good shape from swimming and running, and knew I was pretty handsome, but I looked nothing like the muscle freaks I had jerked off to since adolescence. Being roommates with Frank pushed me to the extreme faster than I could have ever gotten there on my own. Once I committed, Frank viewed me as his special project, somewhere between a mentee and a ward. He saw my mass-building as equally important to his own. To supplement my diet, Frank would bring me endless, unvarying food from the dining hall (where, as a football player, he got unlimited meals). Our mini-fridge was so full of chicken breasts and ground beef that we had to buy another one and stack it right on top. He taught me to look at food as a source of fuel, not pleasure, and once I made this accommodation, it amazed me how much I could pack away each day. My intake accelerated until I was eating 500 grams of protein daily. Frank not-very-gradually ramped me up to a high dose of tren. Not as extreme as his, of course, but enough for my already-healthy libido to shoot through the roof. Luckily, I didn't experience any of the stuff I feared: acne, mood swings, shrinking balls, etc. All the side effects I had were, frankly, very sexy. My voice deepened noticeably; dark hair started to sprout on my chest and forearms; I woke up each morning, nuzzled in Frank's pecs, with an erection so hard it was almost intolerable. Of course, the most valuable part of Frank's tutelage was in the school gym. Two brutal, grueling sessions per day, every day, except Sunday ("rest day" -- more like 120 minutes of cardio). The first time we went to work out together, I was a panicked mess, insecure to even be seen next to Frank in his gym clothes. I remember the first lift we did together. Barbell bench press. "Watch what I'm doing," Frank said, voice deeper than Vin Diesel -- but he didn't need to tell anyone to watch him. Every eye in the gym followed Frank anywhere he went. He added five 45-pound plates on each side, 495 pounds, and knocked out 8 perfect reps. You could actually see the bar bending under the weight. He was even speaking to me as he did reps, calling attention to his form. ("See my grip?" he said through gritted teeth, nipples popping out of his tank top.) Then it was my turn. We spent two minutes removing plates, then I struggled to do a single rep with one 45 on each side. My arms gave out, and Frank spotted me with one hand. At the gym, the insecurities that I'd always nursed came out in full force. All of Frank's over-the-top horniness would disappear when we got in the gym: He became cool, composed, professional. We looked bizarre working out together. I'd watch Frank curl a 260-pound bar as a warmup, his veiny, 24-inch arms so swollen they looked like they might pop. Then he'd turn around and show me how to properly curl two 15-pound dumbbells, gently correcting me if I tried to go heavier than I was able to. The gym made me realize how exceptional Frank really was. I knew he was strong, but didn't know -- until working out with him -- that he was lifting heavier weights than the Mr. Olympias I jerked off to. There was a reason he looked like this. "Hey. You know that guy?" a hulking frat boy asked me one time, after Frank had stepped away. "Yeah, he's my roommate." "Your roommate?" The frat boy was confused and, I could tell, annoyed. He was a senior, one of the most juicy, muscle-bound jocks at our college. Probably 6'0", 260 pounds. Absent Frank, he would have been my sexual obsession, the campus muscle god. Now Frank, a mere freshman, had stolen his thunder, and to make matters worse, Frank was lifting with me every day. "Yes, my roommate." "Well, you realize he's squatting 840 pounds? For reps? He could be in the Olympics." I kept asking myself: How could Frank, this fucking monster, be attracted to a weakling like me? Wasn't he impatient, showing me how to do shoulder presses with 20-pound dumbbells? Yet I soon realized that all of my fears were unfounded. Frank was an incredible trainer. His patience was endless. And his professional demeanor -- which I took as diminished attraction to me, upon seeing how weak I was -- was just how he acted in the gym. Aside from eating, lifting was just about the only time Frank could focus and not let his libido take over. The only time his dick wouldn't get hard at the drop of a hat. Within days, I was growing stronger, and I could see the pride in Frank's eyes when I improved my form or hit a new PR. My grades plummeted. I studied weight training more than my textbooks. I did the bare minimum to not get expelled, less for academic reasons than to remain on campus with Frank as long as possible. -- Five pounds of muscle a week. That's how much Frank said I'd grow. And you know what? That's exactly what happened. One week of grueling lifting and nauseating eating, and I was 160. Up five pounds exactly. And the next week, I was 165, and two weeks later I was 175. I had gained 20 pounds of muscle in one month. I was incredulous. After this initial pop, my progress slowed, of course, but it didn't stop. The next month, I gained 10 pounds. Frank doubled my tren. By April, I was 200 pounds. ("What do you mean you can't come home for spring break?" "Sorry, Dad, I really need to stay here and study.") By June, I was north of 220 pounds. I had put on 65 pounds of muscle in six months. I looked like a different person. My shoulders had made the most shocking improvement. They turned into these hairy, bulging, flat-topped melons, jutting out even from behind, making every t-shirt tight around the sleeves. A perky shelf of pecs had grown in between them, even larger and plumper than my delts, and my nips had sprouted dark hair and pointed straight down under their weight. My back exploded in size. I became double-wide. I looked absolutely absurd, with my still-boyish face atop ultra-roided, superhero-like traps, wearing shirts that became so tight they left my midriff bare. After countless hours of punishing leg workouts, my quads, ass and hamstrings were spectacular to look at. My glutes stuck out like a capital P. I grew the diamond-shaped quads I'd always fetishized. I had to beg my parents to send me money so I could buy all-new clothes, vague on the reason why. (They assumed I was getting fat, "freshman 15," etc.) Not a single thing I owned fit me anymore, but I wasn't big enough for Frank's XXL hand-me-downs either. I didn't look so ridiculous working out with Frank anymore. To say that Frank liked my transformation was an understatement. My juiced-up physique made him even more insatiable, horny for me day and night. If I wasn't eating or lifting, I was having indescribable, balls-to-the-walls sex with Frank, almost hourly -- five times per day at least. Our sexual connection didn't lose its spark. It was like a roaring inferno, consuming everything else in our lives (except for bodybuilding and, for Frank, football), and the tren was like pouring gasoline on top. -- Impressive as my own growth was, during this same period, Frank had entered his most extreme phase of bodybuilding yet. "5-5-5," he called it. "Gonna increase tren, calories and weights 5% each week for five months." As the weeks compounded, his intake of food and steroids -- already remarkable -- became completely unhinged. By the end of his five-month sprint, he was eating 30 chicken breasts per day. One every 30 minutes. He was benching 620 pounds for reps. His tren dosage was as high as he could "safely push it" (his words), according to the Reddit threads where he got most of his information about steroids. He grew even faster than me. Up 10 pounds in January, 12 pounds in February, 16 pounds in March. When Frank hit 390 pounds, our scale broke. Even the one in the football training center couldn't weigh him. We had to order a new scale, specially made in Germany for the morbidly obese. It arrived seven long weeks later, and the anticipation of weighing ourselves was one of my hottest memories from this time. In solidarity, I had held off weighing myself during that stretch, so we could both learn our progress at the same time. We knew it was going to be shocking. The scale finally arrived one week before summer break. In our little room (a disaster, a cum dump, it looked like ten horny bodybuilders had been squatting in it), we got everything ready. We both stripped off all our clothes, not that we ever wore more than jocks or tight white Calvin Klein briefs stretched to tatters by our growing muscles. I went first. "225.1" Both our cocks shot up at the same time. "Oh fuck dude... Holy shit bro...So much fuckin' muscle bro...Oh fuck, oh fuck," Frank said, his eyes going blurry. He started kneading his fingers through my perfect pecs, sniffing my pits. He stuck his powerful tongue down my throat. "Fuck James, oh my god James, you're so fucking hot..." he mumbled with his tongue in my mouth. I pushed him away. "C'mon, Frank -- now it's your turn!" Frank took a gulp and stepped on the scale. The sheer magnificence of his body standing there was too much for me. I was stroking my cock, trying hard not to cum, as the digital scale processed his weight. The screen blinked WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. The seconds felt like minutes. Then finally, STEP OFF. "429.9" We both gasped. Frank's boner started quivering and leaking pre-cum. His face went flush. We both turned and faced the full-length mirror. Suddenly, he saw himself in a new light. He realized the size that he had packed on. "Whoa...Oh my god dude...Oh my god...Oh my god bro..." Frank said, stunned by his own reflection. "UNNHHH!" We both came without touching our cocks. I still remember how our loads shot off at the exact same moment, flew 4 feet across the room, and hit the mirror with a splash. As cum dripped down the looking glass, we stared in awe of the two unstoppable, handsome, horned-up freaks gazing back at us.
    58 points
  3. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 3: After we had fucked another two times, Frank and I rinsed off, then walked to the cafeteria. The other students were beginning to pour in after winter break, and the campus was abuzz with activity. Frank was wearing super-tight grey sweatpants, an even tighter XXL bodybuilder tshirt, and a black baseball cap. It looked like his clothes were about to rip. You could see every detail of his body in perfect definition, from his bubble butt to his nipples down to the head of his massive cock. He waddled into the dining hall. I walked beside him, self-conscious to even be seen with this muscle freak who towered over me. We looked like different species. This was the first time we had ever hung out together outside of our dorm. Sure, I'd bump into him occasionally on campus. He'd always be with some other hulking member of the football team. He would give me a wink, a bro-y nod, or a fist bump. ("Who's that?" I'd hear some hunky, 250-pound teammate asking as I walked away. "My roommate.") Apparently, Frank's rule on being seen with me had changed -- or the rule had never existed. I'm sure I looked strange standing next to him: a good six inches shorter, more than 200 pounds lighter, and unable to take my eyes off his bulging, twitching muscles. I soon realized it didn't matter. Frank drew so much attention, I may as well have been a ghost. The instant people noticed Frank, they went silent. Their minds were clearly blown. A nerdy freshman dropped his tray of food loudly, making a huge mess. We got in line, Frank ravenous and thinking only of his macros — not on the dozens of eyes watching him in disbelief. Without looking, Frank walked forward and bumped into a geeky, 5’7” sophomore boy in front of him. (Frank hadn’t noticed how nervous the boy was to be right in front of a muscle monster three times heavier than himself — though I had, of course.) As they collided, the kid’s head rammed right into Frank’s pecs (his single most oversized muscle group). The poor, closeted nerd stumbled back in a daze, his glasses askew. “Whoops. Sorry bro,” said Frank, looking down nearly a foot -- past his pec shelf -- to the nerd’s face. Frank was unfazed, not realizing he had given the skinny kid a memory he’d probably be jerking off to for years to come. I saw the nerd’s hands shaking as he reached for tongs. I watched Frank pile 12 chicken breasts, 10 hamburger patties, and two pounds of brown rice, and two cups broccoli onto his tray. His enormous hands made the tongs look ridiculous — like doll cutlery. The Mexican lunch ladies stared in disbelief; they barely came up to the middle of Frank's abs. I also noticed a group of jocks staring at Frank. "Holy FUCK, look at the size of him," one said. "You think that's steroids?" another one asked. "C'mon man, of course it is." “Yeah, look at those shoulders man.” "Dude, what the fuck, you can totally see his dick." (Frank, focused on heaping meat onto his tray, caught none of this.) You could see the fear in everyone's eyes as Frank carried his 10-pound meal into the dining room. I was nervous he'd see someone he knew, and I'd have to talk to one of his toxically masculine football jock friends. Fortunately, though, we sat down at a table alone. The bench screeched like it might break. Every table around us went silent. You could sense the other people trying to stare and eavesdrop inconspicuously. When he sat down, Frank's sweatpants couldn't contain his Mr. Universe-sized ass, which was left half-exposed in his white jockstrap. I'm not talking about a little crack. I mean a good 50% of his hairy bubble butt was fully on display. He didn't realize this, of course. I also noticed that his bright white shirt was starting to tear, right down the center of his back, revealing the slightly hairy traps underneath. Frank immediately began to devour his meal. Not like a pig -- more like a robot with a job to do. I had thought he might be stockpiling chicken and beef for later. Nope, I realized, he was going to eat this all in one sitting. Occasionally, he took a break from chewing to drink a swig of water. Otherwise he didn't say anything and barely looked up from his fuel. It struck me how even now, freshly showered and fully clothed, Frank’s musk was intense. "Frank, you might need to buy some bigger clothes," I said. "You think so?" he said, still chewing. "Well your shirt is starting to tear a little." "Ah fuck, I just bought this. Brand new. Biggest size they make." He kept chewing. "The thing is," Frank continued,"I've been bulking for a while. Was thinking of cutting soon. Maybe down to 350.” "I don't think you have much to cut. You have eight-pack abs." "Hmm." Frank pulled up his white shirt over his balloon-like pecs, his hairy nipples pointing straight down. His hairy, olive-skinned, washboard abs were revealed in all their perfection -- engorged as he was with food. You could feel the entire room's rapt attention on him. He counted his abs. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6..." (flexing) "7, 8. I guess you're right." Frank resumed eating wordlessly. He didn't realize -- or didn't care -- that his shirt was still rolled up over his pec shelf. Eventually the shirt fell back and covered most of his torso again -- to my relief, because I was self-conscious about the erection throbbing in my pants. After 20 minutes, Frank's plate was clean. Not even a grain of rice remained. "Fuuuck, I'm actually full," he said. He reclined back in the chair, stretched his 24-inch arms over his head in a relaxed way, like he had just finished a Sunday crossword. Then he casually popped a double bicep, just for a second, for me to see. The sharp peaks still astonished me. Then, for the first time since we had sat down, he actually looked me in the eyes. A moment passed. He didn't say anything, but his face was going a little red. I felt self-conscious until I realized that he was looking at ME with longing. Me?! "Um, James," he said, going even redder. "We might have a little problem." His eyes darted down to his own lap. I pretended to look for something under the table, and looked at Frank's crotch, where a throbbing, 10.5-inch erection was already forming a dark circle of pre-cum in his grey sweatpants. The shaft jolted out so far that it was half exposed. It could not have been more conspicuous or obscene. Every eye in the brightly lit dining hall was already on Frank. How were we gonna get him out of here? "Uh oh..." "Fuck," Frank said. "What are we gonna do?" I could tell he was really worried, but his tren-fueled lust was even more powerful. He was wheezing in the characteristic way he always did when he was horned up. He had no way to calm down his cock. "I have an idea." I picked up my tray like I was about to clear it, then deliberately spilt a full glass of soda and ice right onto his lap. The ice-water temporarily shrunk his hard-on into a mere 8-inch semi -- and it also hid the pre-cum stain on his grey sweats. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, dude!" I said. Frank acted upset, but I could see his relief. Although the "accident' drew even more attention on Frank than before, and his porn-star cock was more or less discernible in the wet sweatpants, he was able to escape the dining hall without a full-blown scandal. We got back to our cum-splattered dorm room and Frank more than repaid me for my savoir-faire. We fucked for hours. I came three times: once in his ass, once in his mouth, and once more in the crevasse of his swollen, furry pecs. — Afterwards, we lay in bed together cuddling. I squeezed my Incredible Hulk, nestled my face in his pits. “Mind shooting me up?” Frank asked. I was startled by how deep his voice sounded, but not by the request. I knew the drill. I would inject a dose of steroids into his right glute. At first, I had been shocked by this. Now I was used to the ritual, an expert at injecting gear. I was even a little turned on. “Sure, no problem.” “Hey James?” Frank asked, towering behind me, totally naked. Sticky, dried cum was splattered all over his body. The smell of his musk filled my nostrils. “What?” “Um. Never mind.” “No, what is it?” “You ever thought about doing some?” “Steroids?” “Yeah.” I paused. I really hadn’t. “To be honest, no.” “I was just thinking about how you’d look…If you put on about 70 pounds of muscle…You’re 5’9? I could juice you up to 230, 240 pounds in a year or so… The way you’re built, you’d pack on mass so quickly…Fuck…James…Oh my god bro…” I’d never seen Frank’s dick get hard so fast. Flaccid to hard in three seconds. It flew up perpendicular to his grotesquely swollen quads. His eyes were a little crazy as he looked down at me, fantasizing and scheming. He was wheezing again. “Picture us both all roided out,” he said, stroking his cock. “Posted up in here sophomore year, getting bigger and bigger. Horny all the time. Eating, lifting and fucking nonstop… both of us putting on 5 pounds of muscle every week…Picture how fucking hot you’re gonna look. How hot we’ll both look..holy shit… oh my god dude…” He blew a load all over the carpet. One of the biggest I had ever seen. My mind reeled at the dream he had shared, at how much it had turned him on — and turned ME on. I was just 18, and Frank was such a fucking beast it had never before occurred to me I could be anything like him, not until that moment. Despite my many misgivings about steroids, he had convinced me. I was now under his thrall, obsessed with muscle growth at all costs. That was the night my bodybuilding journey began.
    51 points
  4. Moderators Preface: This story asks for people to vote / like in order to generate the next stage of the story. It is not to be seen as a method of generating views or income for the user. Week 0 Jared jogged down the sidewalk with his airpods in his ears. He was dressed in a big hoodie that hugged his pecs tight and accentuated them jiggling up and down. It didn’t help that Jared’s pecs were already the size of textbooks strapped to his chest. The sleeves of the hoodie strangled his arms inside. As he jogged through the city, his soft cock bounced with his body, clearly visible through his gray sweatpants. His wide hips gave his bubble butt a nice natural sway to his run. “I’ve got the eye of the tiger, a fighter. Dancing through the fire ‘cause I am the champion. And you’re gonna hear me roooooar…” hummed Jared as he passed by a storefront. It was typically abandoned, but there seemed to be one shop lit up at the end of the street. That’s never there, thought Jared to himself. Jared always ran this way to his Friday night shift for work and there had never been any kind of business here. Not even any that were being renovated. Jared paused his music and took his airpods out of his ears. He slowed his pace to a walk, reading the tacky neon signs in the window. BIG SALE read the blue letters, lit up in an explosive cloud of smoke behind it. Jared lifted his head up and saw the massive sign above him light up. “The Sizemologist Cauldron?” mused Jared. He pushed open the door and walked into the surprisingly spacious store. He walked through the shelves of items. His wide shoulders brushing up against the glass bottles on display. He turned his body to read one of the potions on the shelf, but in doing so, his big shoulder made two vials wobble and begin rolling off the wood. “Woah there big guy!” came a voice from behind him. Jared jumped forward startled by the gentleman leaning down behind him. His big pecs lurched forward and pressed into many more glass bottles in front of him on the shelf. “Shit, fuck. Sorry!” Jared steadied himself and carefully pushed the bottles to the back of the shelf. “I thought I had more room to move.” Jared slowly turned back around to see a man with platinum blonde hair holding two bottles. “Jumbo Juice and Two Ton Tonic, a fun mixture, but probably not for right now,” said the man as he put the two bottles on the shelf. “And don’t worry about it. I know how tight these hallways can be,” said the big man as he rubbed his own prestigious belly. The man seemed to be in his mid forties and had a stocky muscular build with a round belly that stuck out a foot or two in front of him. He stood just an inch or two taller than Jared, but Jared was definitely the wider of the two. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget how big I am,” replied Jared as he returned the last potion to the shelf. “No worries big guy. My husband says the same thing. Now, what can I do for you today?” asked the salesman as he led Jared through the aisle. “I’m just browsing. I’ve never seen your shop before. When did you open?” asked Jared as his eyes peered across the name tags. Bubble Butt Brew? Pillow Pec Potion? Muscle Milkshake? What’s this guy selling here? thought Jared. “Just yesterday. Had to get out of the last place I was in a bit of a rush. And lucky for me, this place was available to move in immediately.” They entered the main shopping area with multiple kiosks setup with jewelry, sunglasses, even some speedos on manikins. “Feel free to look around. I’m clearing out my entire inventory to make room for a new line of products so don’t be shy.” Jared immediately ran towards the speedos. The manikins modeling them had a substantial bulge outlined in their front pouch and an ass that was spilling out the sides and could be seen from the front. “How much for one of these? I could always use a new speedo for work.” asked Jared, feeling the fabric of a striped red one. “And do they come in bigger sizes?” He brushed his fingers across the hard plastic dick inside. “Those speedos are pretty cheap, only $5. They aren’t as great as you think they might be.” The shopkeep walked over to the manikin and pulled the speedo off of the plastic to reveal a smooth surface. “The charm of the clothes only are in effect when you’re wearing the clothes. Not good if you’re going for long term gains.” Jared’s eye’s did a double take when he saw there was no mold of a dick on the manikin. He grabbed the one he was holding and pulled it off to reveal the same smooth surface. “What the fuck?” Jared backed up from the display and looked around at some of the other items. Lock Cock Ring? Juicer Belt? Gainer’s Snack Sack? His head was spinning as he could only imagine what he might’ve stumbled onto. “What? Not a fan? I would’ve thought you'd at least enjoy looking like you had bigger junk. Given your line of work,” said the shopkeep. “I meant the magic speedos! What kind of place are you running here? And how do you know where I work?” asked Jared. “I’ve seen your act and I must say, I was thoroughly impressed by your size.” Jared gazed into the eyes of the older man leaning against the counter. “And this place is for people who want to get really big. Like yourself.” “Thank you. I have been growing a lot lately,” smiled Jared as he held up his bicep. It balled up and swelled to the size of an orange in its poor black sleeve. “And I’m always looking to grow more.” “You have no idea. Well if you’re interested in a nice speedo, I can show you to my more exclusive selection.” The shop keep held up his hand and pointed towards a sign that read Does This Make Me Look Big?. “Well if everything is on sale, why not? I have time before work.” Jared turned and followed the bigger man down the hallway. At the edge of the shop, there was a glass display with three speedos underneath. “Normally, these speedos would go for around a few hundred bucks, but hopefully they’ll be in your price range.” The shop keep flipped the light and the speedos lit up. “Why are they so expensive?” asked Jared as he examined the selection. There was a dark red one with a black diamond design running down it, a light blue one with white circles emanating from points of the speedo like ripples, and a royal purple one with a golden stag on the crotch. “They allow someone to grow by being paid for it.” Jared snapped his head to the shop keep and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “If I wear this, people can pay to grow me bigger?” His eyes glared back down at the speedos, wide with the possibilities. “Yep.” The shopkeep held the key in his hand with a smirk on his face. “I had a feeling you’d be intrigued by these.” “How does it work?” Jared pressed his face up to the glass, “Is it like a coin machine and it gives candy out?” he changed angles on the glass, “Or is there a barcode I can scan for Venmo or Cashapp?” he changed his angle to stare down at the speedo, “Or will people need to swipe their cards through my ass?” “No no no, calm down big guy.” The shop keep peeled the big excited man off the glass. He turned the lock and pulled out a rectangular metal box behind the display. “It’s done using this remote.” He clicked a button on the remote and the white circles on the blue speedo lit up. “This remote is a money-getting machine. It has a hole to suck in any cash or coin thrown your way, a card reader that can swipe, chip, or tap, as well as a projector for a barcode for people to scan to send money to as well.” The man clicked a button and a barcode lit up on the wall. “That is incredible.” Jared was in awe as he picked up the purple one. “Are they all the same?” “No, they each have special features that can accompany the growth. The red pair is a boost in the wearer’s muscles. The blue is a boost to the wearer’s cock. And the one you’re holding, those will boost both.” Jared stretched the speedo out with his hands and found it had a surplus of stretch. “And I’ve never met someone who has been able to outgrow them if you were worried about that.” “There’s a first time for everything,” said Jared with a smirk. “I’ll take them. How much?” “Normally they’d cost you around $500 for this particular pair,” said the shop keep as he reached for another remote. “But I’ll give them to you for the low price of $50. Do we have a deal?” He plugged in some numbers on the remote and turned it to show Jared the screen that read $50. “Deal.” Jared didn’t waste any time pulling out his wallet and tapping his card on the screen. “So how does this thing work?” Jared took the remote from the man’s hands and started fiddling with the screen. “Why don’t I let him explain.” He leaned forward and tapped a button on the side of the remote that lit up a light blue. Out popped a man clad in only the same speedo as the one Jared had just bought. Except the man was entirely translucent and shiny blue. “Hello there! You must be my new master!” beamed the hologram. The man was completely bald and had a round jaw line with a cartoon-like muscular body beneath his head. “Wo-ho-ho you bought these?! You wanna get bigger? My good sir, you're already huge!” the hologram zipped back behind Jared’s shoulder as it talked like a mosquito in his ear. “I mean look at you! You could already bench, what, 250, 300 pounds? What do you need me here for?” The hologram reached forward and squeezed Jared’s hefty pecs. “350, actually,” Jared swatted away the hologram’s hand, surprised he could feel its touch. “Exactly, what are you doing here looking to get even bigger?” The hologram poofed away and reappeared in front of Jared’s pecs with a straw hat and a flannel. “Y’all tryin’ to grow these milkers even bigga’.” The hologram reached forward and grabbed Jared’s nipples that were visible even under two layers of clothes and started milking them like a cow. “Hey! Cut it out!” Jared reached his arms forward to swat at the hologram only to have them go straight through it. “Wait, what the? How are you doing that!?!” yelled Jared as the hologram vanished and appeared beside the shop keep like a gnat buzzing around the room. “Go easy on him R. People here aren’t as familiar with the mystic arts. This is R, he will teach you how to use the speedo.” The hologram brought its hand up and waved at Jared before putting his hands together in front of him. “Sam I can smell this guy’s hunger for size from here, this isn’t a good idea.” the hologram turned back to the shop keep and glared at him. “Hush up, I just wanna see what he can do. Give him the royal treatment,” said the shop keep, giving the hologram a comically exaggerated bow. “Oh we’re giving this one the royal treatment? He’s that big a deal?” asked the hologram. “I’m definitely a big deal.” Jared smiled and hit a double bicep pose and flexed his arms down in front of him. The hologram simply rolled its eyes and looked back at the shop keep. “Fine, I’ll give him the royal treatment. Hell, I’ll make him as big as he wants.” Jared’s eyes lit up with excitement and he looked back at the remote. “Let’s go, R. I’ve gotta get to work, and I’m sure you can walk and talk.” Jared tapped the Settings button on the remote and connected his airpods to the remote in a second. “Thank you so much sir. I can’t thank you enough. Hopefully, you’ll see how big I get soon.” Jared stuffed the speedo in his pocket and started to briskly walk towards the door. “No problem Jaren. You have a fun time at work!” yelled the shop keep as R blinked the further away Jared got. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” buzzed R as he flickered away. Jared pulled the door open and barreled out of the shop towards the club. He only had a few blocks to go, but he walked slow as he put his air pods back in. “Testing, KEEEETTTCH, Testing, SHEEEEESH Testing, Testing, Testing, is this thing on!” rang a loud voice from the air pods. “God dammit, yes dude I can hear you.” Jared pulled out the remote and looked down at the screen to see a little 2-D animation of R floating on it. “Excellent, let’s start with introductions!” blared the animation. R poofed away and was replaced by 4 more R’s in marching band uniforms holding trumpets blasting a fanfare into Jared’s ear. “Welcome to the Royal Speedo from the Sizemologist’s 4th collection! I am your guide for this machine as well as sometimes the machine itself, here to grow you beyond your wildest dreams!” shouted an R wearing a long flowing royal purple cape and a golden crown. “Still very loud, but I don’t think you understand how big I can dream,” replied Jared. He looked around to see if anyone saw him talking to this remote, but he was alone before he walked into the club. “We’ll see about that,” replied R as he flew off the screen and his head appeared next to the main menu. “So, to get started, you will need to select your levels.” A button labeled Levels highlighted itself and Jared clicked on it. “Select what levels of growth you want based on your prices.” Jared was presented with a screen of sliders. He saw lengths on the left side of the screen and dollar amounts on the right. He swept his fingers up and down on the screen to adjust the numbers accordingly. “What do you think is a generous number for how much I want to grow?” asked Jared. R blinked and the lens of the remote flashed and an angel R and a devil R appeared on Jared’s shoulders. “It would be wise to keep your ratio of cash to size low considering how much money men already give you for your body,” said Angel R on Jared’s shoulder holding a harp with a halo on its head. “Or knowing that you’ll be rolling in the dough come show time, you could make it pretty easy for you to grow with just a little bit. That way you can get huge fast!” grinned the Devil R holding a pitchfork with horns on his head. “I like that idea waaaay more!” Jared didn’t think much as he started moving his money meter down. “No no no, you can't do that! You’ll get so big so fast! That could be dangerous!” shouted the Angel R. “I suggest that you make it so that $100 would grow you a foot.” The Angel R crossed his arms and puffed air out of his nose as he flew in front of Jared’s face. “Dangerous shmangerous, let’s get this cash cow growing!” The Devil R bumped the Angel R away as Jared settled on his ratio. “Excellent choice master.” “Master, I kinda like that.” Jared devilishly grinned as he walked to the back entrance of the club. He had landed on $10 would grow him a foot taller. “And your name is just R? Does that stand for anything?” “Royal Model. I was fashioned for some of the most powerful people in the world,” replied R from back on the remote screen. “Then it’s perfect I’ll be wearing you. But I don’t like the name R. What about…Rob. Short for Robot.” R changed into a floating head with three dots coming out of it giving Jared a blank stare. “Alright, I’ll be Rob. Now to get the machine active, you’ll need to put the speedo on first.” Jared entered the club and made his way to the dressing room. Taking off his hoodie, he peeled off the tight tank top he had on under it. Shimmying out of his sweatpants and sliding his jock off to reveal his chubbed up 8-incher. Picking up the speedo, he fit one leg through the hole then the other. He was surprised just how much they were able to stretch around his massive legs. He pulled it over his fat ass and pulled the creases out around it and his crotch. He rearranged his balls nicely inside then looked at himself in the mirror. He was hot in them, even though it wasn’t advertised for it, Jared could swear his dick looked bigger in the speedo. He turned to the side and his jaw dropped from how fat his ass got. Like an overgrown cantaloupe overflowing the sides of the speedo. “Fuck, I love these things.” “Uh-huh, yeah I know they’re great. Now get over here,” chirped Rob from the remote. “Let me get a quick read through of your stats.” “A what? What are yo- Whoa!” Jared felt a surge of energy flow through his crotch as the golden stag lit up. It rode its way up his body over his abs, up to his pecs, and out his arms. All while running down his legs and spreading to his back. “What the fuck was that?” “You like?” the remote blinked as Jared picked it up and focused on the screen. “That’ll be what it feels like to grow. But for now, it was just to see what we’re working with now.” A table came up as it started tallying together some stats on Jared’s body. Height: 6 Feet Tall Weight: 250 Pounds Cock Size (Flaccid): 8 Inches Long Cock Size (Erect): 10 Inches Long “My oh my, you are a big one. I am excited to watch you grow.” Rob beeped and the screen went away. “Once you’re on stage, you just let me handle collecting the money. You just focus on getting those men’s hard earned cash and getting huge.” “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jared pulled out his airpods and set them down next to his clothes. “Alright gentlemen, y’all are in for a treat tonight!” came Rob’s voice from the loud speaker. Jared admired himself in the mirror for a moment as his intro music played. “We have for you tonight one of the biggest men out there. And he just plans on getting bigger! You guys like that, right?” The crowd outside erupted with boisterous applause while Jared popped his pecs in the mirror. Rubbing his big nipples with some glitter as he stretched. “Well folks, if you would like to see this next dancer get even bigger, then don’t be afraid to show him some love. And by love, I mean cash!” Jared bounced his hair with his fingers and smiled at himself in the mirror. “Please give it up for…The Hulking Himbo!” (A quick author’s note here at the end, this is a growth drive! For Macro March, I am growing this hulking himbo as big as he can get and that will be based on how much you guys like him. To participate, click on the linktree I have in my bio and it’ll take you to the main post on my Twitter where you can grow this hunk. You can also grow him here by liking/favoriting the story, giving me a follow, or commenting on it on any of the other sites. Either way it’ll count towards this man getting bigger. The first round will go through March 1st to March 13th and I will post those results on March 16th. We’ll see how much he grows after just 1 week Hope you guys enjoy and Happy Macro March!)
    48 points
  5. Back in his dorm Marcus tossed and turned and finally woke with a start, unable to truly sleep. His mind was elsewhere, fixated on the hunks from Alpha Alpha Alpha. It was obvious now the frat boys were something special or doing something very illegal. Marcus wracked his mind for any possible natural explanation but kept drawing blanks. How could Richy, a former twig and string bean, bulk up fifty pounds in a couple months? All Marcus' mind could conjure were magic potions, strange ancient ceremonies, ritualistic rites, or some deal-with-the-devil type situation. Whatever he thought up thought didn't matter because what he saw was real. And whatever it was, obviously worked. After trying and failing to go back to sleep, Marcus sat up and checked the clock: 5:50. Damn, only 10 minutes from his alarm. Irritated with himself, Marcus dressed and left in a hurry, snagging a quick bite to eat before dashing off to his 7:00am class, probably too early. He arrived near the lecture hall with a whopping 45 minutes to spare and sat outside the closed doors, flipping through Grindr on his phone. He noticed some of these men were big too, like the frat bros, but not as enormously huge. He flipped through several potential matches and stopped at one of the profiles. Jason. What an intimidating and gorgeous dude. A marble statue come alive, cut and ripped and even had a sculpted V-line down to his thick shaft that could be seen straining the fabric of his high end khakis. Jason wasn't nearly as ripped or humongously hung as the rest of the AAA gang, but it was not far behind, perhaps rivaling the top 1% of those on the app. Marcus quickly swiped right and closed his phone, feeling his erection start to strain his pants. Marcus then suddenly jolted when he heard the unmistakable Grindr notification coming from down the hall. There was a brief and tense silence as Marcus froze with fear until suddenly his own app sputtered out the same distinctive notification. Marcus fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it, before glancing at his phone and discovering a new message from Jason. "Well hey there, cutie." One more appeared in quick succession as Marcus opened his messages. "I heard that." After a few seconds a new message came over, this time with a picture. The image was a head-cut-off selfie of a hugely muscular man dressed in very nice business casual in what appeared to be a small classroom. Marcus couldn't tell if it was a lecture hall, office, or small meeting room but knew immediately it was a room in this building, somewhere. Another image came over that focused on the huge man's midsection, clearly showing the outline of his muscular abs beneath the thin white shirt and vest the strong guy wore. His thighs in dark brown khakis were obscenely thick, the muscles filling the garment quite snugly and hinting at absolutely powerful quads and hamstrings. Even the crotch of his khaki slacks bulged and strained, looking like an erect pole was trying to break free. Another came in displaying his thick round ass and the legs beneath it which flexed as he turned and posed for the picture, straining the fabric of his pants to the breaking point. A new message interrupted Marcus's leering. "Where are you? I can hear those pings." He almost panicked before replying: "Outside the lecture hall." "I know the one. Go down the hall, and up the stairs to the 3rd floor. Room 314." Marcus jumped up immediately and bolted down the hallway, trying not to look suspicious, but probably failing. Luckily, almost no one else was out this early. Once at the stairs Marcus leaped up them two at a time to the third floor where he scanned for room 314. Almost tripping in a near sprint Marcus turned the last corner and found it tucked away in the corner of the building, away from prying eyes. Marcus' heart skipped a beat as he opened the unlocked door, slipping into a small dark classroom. The room was silent except for the hum of old air conditioning units on the windows and was obviously empty. Marcus closed the door gently, trying his hardest not to alert anyone that might be nearby. He flipped on the lights, set down his bag, and waited. After a few minutes he could hear thumps of heavy foot falls approaching from down the hallway, headed towards him. Thump. Thump. Thump. The door swung open, in walked the man from the images, Jason. The Adonis' shoulders barely made it through the doorframe without knocking into them and he took up an extraordinary amount of space for such a small and secluded classroom. Jason's bulging body was covered with a smart green blazer, dark brown khaki pants and a white button up shirt. His sandy brown hair tied up into a tight bun, his hazel eyes locked with Marcus as a devilish smile curled his perfect lips. "Well now," he purred softly, moving further into the classroom, letting the door close with a soft thump. "Marcus, I take it?" The buff well-dressed bodybuilder was even more hulking than the pictures suggested. Marcus had difficulty gauging exactly how huge Jason really was when only seeing images, but the buff jock's proportions made his suit look as though it was 2 sizes too small for his body and looked almost painted on. This wasn't helped at all by the fact that his bulky arms stretched the expensive suit jacket tightly, causing the button-down shirt to be plastered against his abdomen revealing a teasing glimpse of the well-defined eight pack abs and lines down his midsection. The incredibly muscular brunette easily cut a fine figure in a suit, especially since his arms seemed too large for the garment's sleeves. Marcus watched as the huge man closed the gap between them and instinctually took a half step backward, though there was nowhere to go. "Yeah," the smaller, younger, and undeniably nervous man stammered, averting his eyes for a moment. "Why so timid Marcus?" Jason inquired as he continued his. Marcus took a deep, nervous breath and summoned every ounce of confidence he possessed before looking the god of a man in his eyes again. He took an unsteady gulp. His handsome face relaxed into a kind smile. "That's better. There's no need for bashfulness here. I can tell by tent in your pants that you are just as happy to see me as I am to see you." His sexy voice was calm, relaxed and a tad amused, in no way confrontational. Each word he spoke oozed sexual authority and it was all that Marcus could do not to grab his own burgeoning cock as it attempted to strain out through his jeans. "You seem tense. Uneasy. I think you need a bit of relaxation, no? Here, let me help." The smartly dressed adonis suddenly unbuttoned his expensive green blazer and slipped out his large strong arms from the confines of the well-tailored jacket and draped it across the back of a desk. With the extra space the material on the chest area was pulled even tighter against the jock's broad muscular physique and showed the insane cuts in his arms and round pectorals jutting out from his chest. With a smooth and practiced motion, Jason knelt before Marcus and undid his fly with one hand and unzipped it, revealing his hardening cock. Marcus let out a deep groan as Jason's fingers freed his erection from its fabric prison. A slight grin grew upon the fine man's sensuous lips as his perfectly formed mouth encircled the throbbing erection before him. Marcus felt his legs buckle and threaten to give out under the intense pleasure. The smaller man almost fell over as he sat his ass at the edge of one of the small desks and tried his best not to explode as this mystery hunk sucked him into pure ecstasy. Marcus felt himself enveloped by a soft, yet firm tongue that swept up and down the length of his shaft, his lips creating the perfect seal. Jason kept the pace, going faster and faster as Marcus groaned aloud his excitement and gripped the edges of the wooden surface, squeezing tighter the closer he got to eruption. "Ohhhh! I - I'm gonna..!" Jason didn't miss a beat; instead sucking harder until Marcus burst like a geyser shooting hot streams of hot sticky cream right down Jason's throat. The suave muscular man accepted it greedily and let the orgasm continue until finally slowing down until the ejaculating dick was fully spent and milked of every drop of precious semen. When Marcus began to slow, panting hard and clutching the sides of the desk to remain upright, Jason looked up at him and the sexiest smile Marcus had ever seen grew on the perfect features. The Adonis seemed pleased at what he had caused as he straightened up and seized Marcus's face with his huge hands and pulled their lips together. Jason's tongue dove into the stunned man's mouth, swirling around and giving him his own flavor. When their mouths finally parted Marcus was flushed, dazed, and entirely at a loss. Jason stepped back. "I hope I didn't come on too strong." He smiled, seemingly totally at ease after just fellating Marcus' dick and sharing a full tongued kiss. Marcus struggled for words. "Dude you're something else." was all he could manage to say in the stunned fog his mind was in, not complaining though. His gaze wandering back towards the larger man’s pants and the treasure hidden below, seeing the outline of something enormous just underneath. Jason's muscled and vascular arms came up and swiftly and skillfully began unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of his own tight shirt exposing his powerful and muscular pecs and the beginnings of his hard abdomen. The slim fitting shirt, and especially the now with the partially open collar, perfectly delineated every curve and ridge of his thick, powerful pectoral muscles. Each mound of smooth flesh tapered down perfectly into a trim, 8 pack of rock hard, clearly defined abdominal muscles. "See something you like, don't you?" Jason teased as he chuckled and flexed his biceps slowly to show off his sculpted cut muscle structure, his forearms practically rippling underneath the sleeves of his dress shirt. "It's alright; I tend to have that effect on guys." The masculine beast added. Marcus nodded dumbly, unconsciously beginning to fumble to slip his pants completely off as he tried to kick away his shoes and socks and remove everything while never taking his eyes off Jason's pecs and the glorious cleft the man's big hard chest formed as they flexed under the form fitting material of his shirt and tie. Jason watched his partner shuck his clothes with a playful expression on his face and responded by very slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt the rest of the way until finally undoing the last button and letting the white shirt part open to reveal a stunning masculine landscape of sheer power. His torso was incredible, sculpted like marble. He puffed out his huge chest and tightened his stomach. Instantly his pec swells looked bigger and fuller, his pert nipples pointing downward towards the floor. His hard stomach rippled and swayed with each breath, each hard brick dusted with smooth brown hair that thickened as it lead down to his waist. Jason sensually ran a huge hand down his own torso and underneath his pants, gripping something thick and round just beneath the hem. "What do you think?" the hung, masculine stud asked, his smile broadening. The now naked Marcus replied by scrambling backward onto one of the desks, laying on his back and exposing his tight hole, preparing himself for what kind of monster cock the man possessed. With tantalizing slowness, Jason unbuttoned his fly and his gargantuan rod sprang forth, standing rock hard at close to 12 inches. The rod was covered in pencil tick veins that pulsed with each beat of the huge man’s heart, the tip already beginning to leak precum like a faucet. "I've been hard all morning," Jason remarked casually, unwrapping his man-bun and letting his thick brown locks drape over his wide shoulders. "And now I find a beautiful man ready and willing to be bred? Must be my lucky day." Just the sight of this gargantuan testosterone fueled stud, with his long dark brown hair, model looks, and bulging, statuesque physique that rivaled a Greek god, made Marcus' hole twitch with anticipation. He glanced downward to see the man's tree trunk legs were firmly planted on either side of him and he stood in a wide stance that looked more like someone flexing for the judges rather than preparing to fuck him senseless. Jason finally closed the distance between them and loomed over the smaller man, his monster manhood throbbing with anticipation. Slowly the virile stud leaned over and positioned his already thick pulsating monster over the petite man's awaiting hole, then looked Marcus directly in the eye. "Ready or not.." he teased, pushing the tip of his member into the tight ass. Marcus could feel the head slip easily past the of his anus and he hissed with pain. This bastard was huge! Jason wasted no time in distracting his smaller lover by enveloping his face with a passionate kiss while pressing their chests together, sliding the massive fuck spear into the man below him with agonizing slowness. A surge of unbelievable pressure filled Marcus's senses; he could scarcely think straight. "Oh Fuck. You're so big," he whined softly, trying his best to hide it but unable to keep the lust in his tone at bay. The smaller man shuddered again as more dick slipped past his resistance and probed his prostate, teasing the exposed nerve endings within him, while filling him completely. Marcus could barley contain his joy, his body twitching with pleasure and need. "No need to be shy with my cock is already halfway in you. Listen to your body. Your instincts are far wiser than your brain," the alpha smirked before capturing his lover's mouth with another kiss. As their tongues mingled once again, Marcus felt his hesitancy finally abate and the smaller man unleashed his hands across his fuck stud's ripped body, feeling up every ridge of every cut. His hands clumsily and uncertainly wandered over his partner's swollen biceps and rippling forearms, digging his fingers into the hewn mounds of his flexed shoulders and finally running his fingers down the male's hugely sculpted pectorals. As his eager touch played across the muscular landscapes, Jason pulled his tongue out from between Marcus's teeth, and asked "See, now, isn't this better? Giving into your desires instead of holding them back?" Jason casually flexed his huge muscles everywhere Marcus' was groping as he slowly sank his cock deeper inside him, sending spasms of ecstasy through the young jock's frame. "Fuckin huge..." was about all Marcus could reply in that moment. "Damn right I am." With a touch of dramatic flare and flexibility that belied his size, Jason suddenly pulled his thick arms out of his expensive dress shirt and threw it to the desk behind him, fully exposing his body for Marcus' wide eyes and wandering hands. He began moving, slowly pumping his thick dick into Marcus’ tight hole, giving his partner a view of all the muscle he had on his huge frame. The perfectly layered, gorgeously contoured and totally herculean and musclebound Adonis showed off his body with pride. Each new flex rippled down the beast's chest and torso and finally to his meaty ass and thighs which flexed and pushed out Jason's member deeper into Marcus' spasming hole. Each muscle was clearly defined and rippled with thick hard muscle and beautiful vascular striation. Marcus gasped as each new flex moved Jason's meat deeper inside him, the beautiful stretching sensation was about to make him go insane. The smaller man reached out and grabbed his ass and gaped it wider, begging Jason to speed up his thrusts. Jason obliged, plunging deeper and deeper, until his enormous 12 inches finally hilted inside the younger man. With a wicked smile, Jason began to really fuck. The seductive stud was like an inexhaustible machine; his sculpted pectorals and washboard abdominals rippling and rolling, sweaty, hard and shining as the stud hammered his prostate like no one had before. Marcus dug his fingertips into the mounds of muscle, squeezing and palpating and gripping, feeling the iron-hard sinews beneath, and watching as the incredible Adonis's eyes glittered with passion. Jason then began to purposely flex his upper body muscles to display his strength for his smaller but appreciative partner. Jason unleashed pose after pose, timing each purposeful flex with a particularly powerful thrust. He paraded his body in front of Marcus as he drilled his hole mercilessly. After one particularly hot bicep pose Marcus saw something dark on the stud’s inner bicep close to his pits. Three small letters tattooed with dark ink in fine penmanship spelled out the letters: AAA. "Oh fuck, are you one of them?" The muscular brunette flashed Marcus a wolfish grin. "Did you seriously think I was anything else? How do you think I got this big?" With that the burly alpha slammed home his entire 12-inch meat log once more, splitting Marcus's hole even further and pushing him dangerously close to the edge. Jason's thrusts began gaining speed and ferocity. "I know that look when I see it. You want to be like me, dont you? Big and burly, a walking wet dream, dropping with testosterone?" Jason spoke, and even when in the throes of animalistic mating he never lost his sexy cool demeanor or air of confident machismo, making him seem even sexier in Marcus's mind. "All that is just the start. What really gets you hooked is feeling your dick hardening as it grows extra inches inside some tight piece of ass. Your balls bouncing and flexing as your testosterone roils inside you and creates a huge load of cum just waiting to fill up some young buck. That feeling of pure domination as you unleash your load deep into a guy and know that soon, he’ll be just like you. Each sentence ended in a ferocious thrust, and a wet slap as their balls impacted against Marcus' round perky ass cheeks. Marcus groaned in agreement and screamed in ecstasy. "Yes!! Yes!!! That's exactly what I want." At that response the larger Adonis shifted angles and focused his thrusts directly against Marcus's prostate. Marcus squirmed in his seat with overwhelming pleasure. Jason paused only to grip both the smaller man's knees to position him in the mating press and return his hammer blows to that bundle of nerves, keeping up the relentless assault. Marcus, on his back on a desk, his legs were splayed widely to each side in a complete spread-eagle and completely exposed, could barely breathe as Jason relentlessly fucked him. He began stroking his dick furiously and in seconds went shooting rockets of semen all over himself, which only made Jason harder, slamming even more forcefully into his tight hole. He grunted wildly with effort as he exploded a tremendous ejaculation of pent up sperm. The monstrous masculine hunk's shaft jerked and flexed inside Marcus's hole, firing ropes of white, hot cum into the bottom. Over and over again, Jason unleashed his lust and dominance deep into Marcus's willing and thoroughly bred body, slowly filling Marcus' insides with his potent seed until a small round belly bump protruded from where his abdomen once was. The last of Marcus’ inhibitions left him as he felt the Alpha’s seed permeate throughout him, filling him to the brim. He moamed and wailed as his own cock continued to fire and coat his own protruding stomach. Jason slowed his thrusts and gleefully remarked, "You look so good with my cum stuffed inside you." The Alpha rubbed his large hand over the lump of seed protruding from Marcus's stomach, his husky voice moaning slightly with each caress. The enormous muscular stud then raised both arms above his head with a husky growl, his form slowly swelling with power, his muscles slowly filling with power with each deliberate flex. Each time his muscles pulsed, Marcus felt the huge cock buried inside him pulse with another jet of cum. Even through his sex drunk haze, Marcus knew he was getting larger. His godly body stretched outward as his flexing continued, the cock inside him continuing to unleash the man’s seed deep within him. His pecs ballooned, jutting outward from his hard abs and casting a shadow over Marcus. His hips and thighs got tighter and stronger, causing the big man to readjust his cock inside him as his stance grew wider. Jason held his right arm out and slowly let the power fill his bicep with each flex, reveling in how tight and big the bulging ball of muscle became with each bend of his elbow. Marcus watched, amazed at the unnatural sight of the huge man getting even stronger, and came again hands free as the cock inside his hole stretched him even wider and buried itself deeper even though Jason wasn’t moving. The stud suddenly fixed his eyes on Marcus. "So, how was it?" he whispered, his eyes never leaving his lover. Marcus could only moan loudly in response. Jason smiled wryly, letting his arms relax back down to his sides, ending his growth session, leaving Marcus feeling more filled than ever before. "I have to say, it's been some time since I've fucked a virgin." Jason mused as he withdrew his now ungodly huge now 13 inch cock from Marcus' used hole. "I-Im not a virgin." Marcus croaked, his voice sore after all his wanton lustful moaning and screaming. Jason raised a fuzzy eyebrow and manhandled his own dick in response. "If you've never been fucked by an Alpha Alpha Alpha brother, you've never had real sex. That is your first real fuck." he purred, running a hand up and down his immense beefy pecs. The fucker was enjoying his own body as much as Marcus had been just seconds earlier, flexing his abs and admiring the cut muscles of his arms, shoulders and torso. As Marcus reeled from the pleasure of having this stud's cum held inside him, Jason turned back to where he'd thrown his clothing, his round firm ass flexing along with his quads. The now even sexier alpha pulled his clothes on very slowly, almost intentionally stretching every fiber of cloth and flexing all of his glorious muscle as the material squeezed snugly over each rounded and heavy piece of musculature, bulging with power and presence. The huge guy glanced toward Marcus and smiled slightly, flashing a set of perfect white teeth, as the he strode closer and ran his massive hands down the younger man's slim body before resting on his new cum bulge. "I know you've got questions. Head over to the house later tonight, I'll make sure someone there sets you up. I'm glad you swiped right. Trust me, you won't regret this." *** Part 3. Sorry for the wait, I'm such a procrastinator sometimes it's actually terrible. Please let me know what you think! I've generated some images of the studs depicted in the story so far and might share them here in the future once I get the details the way I want them.
    43 points
  6. Ever since he had hit puberty, Hank had been an alpha. His dad got him into lifting weights when he was twelve, and his strength and size took off. By the time he was 15, he had a 48” chest and was benching 405. He swaggered around school like he was a god, which is exactly how he felt, and how most of the kids treated him. His swollen ego was also fed by the fact that his dad was a very wealthy pig farmer, who also owned half the county and a ton of real estate in Atlanta. By the time he was 17, the assistant football coach was sick of the hillbilly rich boy attitude, and decided to teach the him a lesson. The coach was a beefy bruiser, who had once been a competitive arm wrestler of some renown. So one day, in front of the whole team, he challenged Hank to a friendly match. Hank had never arm wrestled before, but he just shrugged and said, “Sure, whatever.” Unfortunately for the 35 year old coach, his strength was no match for the jacked up teen. Hank beat him with such ease, they were both surprised. Down went the coach’s right hand, bam, to the table. Delight spread across Hank’s face, and he slowly stripped off his shirt. “Jeezus,” muttered the coach. He’d seen a lot of jocks in his time, but never one that looked chiseled out of Georgia granite. “Again,” said Hank, putting his arm back up. He’d just finished doing 100lb dumbbell curls, and his upper arm bunched up like a melon. The coach couldn’t back down now. He reluctantly put his hand into Hank’s. Then BAM, down went his arm, even harder this time. “Gawd dammm, this is fun!” crowed Hank. “Now the left arm,” he said eagerly, flexing his arm and kissing the peak before softly setting his elbow on the table, a big smirk on his face. They matched up again and went. Hank wrenched the coach’s wrist till it made a crackling sound, then slammed him to the table. He laughed in the coach’s face. “Little pussy,” he sneered, then he flexed his solid 18” farmboy arms. “Little fuckin’ pussy.” The coach went red-faced with humiliation, and slunk away. The next day, as news spread thru the school of Hank’s total domination, the coach submitted his resignation. After that, Hank got into arm wrestling in a big way. At first, he just showed up to every local competition he could find. Many of them were at dive bars, where he was already built better than any of the bouncers. Between his swagger and the musk coming off his imposing physique, it was easy for him to steal their girlfriends, and he loved doing it. Sometimes two or three a night. Every step of the way, he got better and bigger and stronger, secretly aided by the hormones that his pa had been feeding him since he was fourteen. The same ones Pa fed to his most prized hogs, some of which were now over 750lbs of musclebound pork. Hank jerked off to the thought of getting that fucking massed up, and it fueled his ego, his feelings of superiority, until by the time he was 22, he had become the swaggering dickhead that had sat down with Kurt for an interview. Now, at the barn, everything had been turned upside down for Hank. Sam and Kurt used his ass as their own personal cum bucket, trading him off like a toy, and he loved every second of it. He couldn’t believe how much he loved being plowed, especially by Kurt. He ached for Kurt’s huge member to turn his big squared-off boulder of an ass into prime pussy. They had taken him back to his hotel to get his stash of pills and gear, and he moved into the barn, sleeping in the hayloft, just like he used to do back on the pig farm. Kurt had started him on the herbal shakes, and within two weeks, Hank was up to 249lbs of strapping redneck muscle. The three of them lifted together every day, and when Sam and Kurt went to work, Hank lifted some more. He lifted until he was so bloated that he felt like his skin was going to split. All the gear pulsing thru him was making him grow broader and thicker. His bulging forearms pumped almost big as his bi’s. When he looked in the mirror he saw what his opponents were going to be seeing at his next competition. “Aw, yeah,” he thought with a cocky smirk. “Fuckin’ losers are gonna piss themselves.” When he imagined himself snapping arms like twigs, he spewed all over the mirror.
    36 points
  7. This part was inspired by the pic at the bottom. I also borrowed a scene from the TV show Reacher that I thought was pretty clever. Hank woke up in the hayloft just before dawn. He stretched out, then leapt down to the barn floor. He went outside and took a piss in the field, steam rising heavily from his hot stream as it hit the cold morning air. He stretched out some more, warming himself up for his first workout of the day. He felt himself up and grunted with a deep self-satisfaction at his own extreme muscularity. He started to bone up, and thought about jerking off into the field, but instead, headed back into the barn to lift. It had been two weeks since the arm wrestling comp he had gone to with Kurt. Things were going great, despite the fact that Hank had been thrown out of Sam’s bodybuilding contest that past weekend. Hank and Kurt were both in the audience, hooting and hollering during Sam’s routine, but during the posedowns, Hank started mocking the other competitors, calling them pencil-necked geeks and needle-dicked pansies, among other things. Finally, when he yelled out, “My little sister’s got bigger muscle than you, fagboy,” five big security guys came over to throw him out. “Y’all want a piece of this, ladies?” Hank yelled, stripping off his shirt. When the five bruisers took a step back, Hank laughed and said, “That’s what I thought,” and started towards them. Kurt grabbed him by the scruff of his bull neck and hustled him up the aisle. Just before exiting, Hank tipped his head back and said, “If you five fairies want yer cherries popped, just come outside, I’ll do it for you.” He laughed and laughed as Kurt ushered him out the doors. Once inside Kurt’s new pickup, he said, “Do you have to cause trouble everywhere you go?” Hank was all charged up. “Did you see the looks on their faces? All of ‘em about to pee themselves. Let’s go back in. You and me could take the whole place.” Hank’s over enthusiasm was turning Kurt on, so instead of going back in, Kurt leaned over and kissed him, long and hard. Long enough for the windows of his truck to steam up. Then he said, “I got a better way to channel all that energy, muchacho.” Karl started up the truck and drove back to his place and where they fucked each other’s brains out while Sam went on to win the bodybuilding competition, despite Hank’s brouhaha, taking both the super heavyweight division and the overall. Later that day, when Sam brought his trophies out to the barn, he gave Hank a heavy black jock strap as a thank you for making the contest interesting. Now, back at the barn, Hank was wearing the strap as he lifted. He liked the way it made him feel as he pounded out outrageous amounts of weight. Two hours into his workout, pumped to the gills and sweating profusely, he decided to open the doors of the barn to let in the growing warmth of the spring day. On his way over, he saw someone peeping thru a gap in the doors. The guy saw him coming and muttered “shit”, and turned to run, but he was too late. Hank shoved the doors open hard, and one of them hit the guy from behind, sending him sprawling to the ground. Hank swaggered over to him and looked down at him. He was young, about Hank’s age, and not a big guy. As he struggled to get up on his elbows, Hank said, “Best to stay down. I could shred you.” He cracked his knuckles as he made his meaty hands into fists. “Who the fuck are you?” “I…I…I…” stuttered the guy, his tongue frozen with fear as he looked up at the pumped muscle mutant standing over him. Hank reached down with one hand and grabbed him around the neck, then swooped him up off the ground until the guy’s feet were dangling in midair. “Blink when you’re ready to talk,” Hank said, as he tightened his grip. The guy, in a panic as he felt his windpipe being crushed, blinked. But Hank continued to hold him airborne, as if he were made of straw, and squeezed harder. The guy began to blink and blink in rapid succession, his eyes bugging out of his head. Hank finally set him down and let go of his neck. “Start talkin’,” he demanded. “I just,” the guy said with a rasp, a rasp the he would have the rest of his life, his vocal cords damaged beyond repair. “I just wanted, I mean, I saw you and that massive sportscaster guy at that bodybuilding show and how you scared the security team just by looking at them, that was so epic, and how you were rooting for Sam the Weatherman, that guy is a freak, too, and I could tell you all knew each other, and I just wanted to find out how I could get big like you guys, or even half as big. I’m sick of being a fucking lightweight. So I kinda followed you around after, and saw you come out to this place.” Hank liked this, having his own little stalker, and hearing him rambling on, so full of awe. He eyed the guy up and down. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered. The guy nervously pulled his shirt off. “How much you weigh?” “About 160.” Hank snorted. “You wish. You sure are purdy, though. You about twice as purdy as the last chick I dated.” Hank reached out and put his rough palm on the side of the guy’s face. Then he ran his index finger down the guy’s neck, and down his taut, smooth torso. The young guy got goosebumps all over. Hank liked that reaction. “So you wanna get big, huh?” “I’d do anything.” “Yeah? You’d do anything, huh? What’s your name, dude?” “Joe.” “Okay, Joe, I’ll tell you what you can do. Get on your knees.” Joe hesitated, until he saw Hank arch an eyebrow. He got on his knees. His face was level with the pouch of Hank’s strap, which was starting to swell. “You blow me, and if you take my huge load, you’ll start to get bigger. I mean, ya gotta lift, too, but you’ll grow fast.” Joe looked nervously at the growing pouch. “Seriously? That’ll work?” Hank had no idea if it would work or not, but he needed a good bj. He flexed his huge arms over the aspiring muscleboy. “You wanna look like this or not?” “Jeezus. Jeezus,” rasped Joe, as he watched Hank’s pumped, inhuman arms swell. “Yeah, you want this, don’t ya, you puny little stalker? Now fucking blow me. Don’t sweat it, I’ll be gentle.” Hank whipped out his cock and let it flop into Joe’s face. Joe grabbed onto the base of it, then took the head into his mouth and started sucking. “Ahhahhahh yeah,” said Hank with a big grin. “Hot fucking virgin mouth. Work it good.” Hank grabbed Joe by his ears and guided him down his shaft. The musclebound arm wrestler started thrusting harder. He threw his head back and groaned. “Turn you into a hungry little muscle whore.” Hank stopped being gentle, and face fucked Joe with wild abandon, flopping the smaller man around like a blow-up doll, his thick shaft pumping deeper with each piston-like thrust. Hank finally unloaded, but with such force and volume that Joe lost consciousness. As Hank was pulling him off his engorged member and laying him onto the grass, Sam was pulling up. Sam got out of his car and came over. “What’s going on, man?” he asked Hank. “I don’t know, but I think I killed him. I’ll do CPR.” Hank intertwined his thick fingers, then placed one palm on Joe’s sternum and was about to start when Sam yelled “Stop! You’ll crush him like an egg. Just back away for a second, the dude is still breathing.” Sam crouched down and cradled Joe upright in his huge arms. After a few moments, Joe woke up coughing, so Sam patted his back softly. “Who is this?” Sam asked Hank. “That’s my new pet,” answered Hank, proudly. Sam just shook his head. “You can’t just keep him.” But then Joe looked up at Sam’s square-jawed face and said, “Are you God?” “See,” said Hank. “He thinks he’s in heaven.” Sam looked down at the angelic face in his arms. He looked like a younger version of himself. He ran his hand down Joe’s washboard abs. Joe quivered with pleasure. He looked at Sam with big puppy eyes. “Hey, he likes you, too,” said Hank. “We can share him. But remember, I saw him first, and I have needs.” He stuffed himself into his jock strap. Sam sighed. “Okay, he can stay. But only as long as he wants to. And don’t hurt him.” “Sweet!” exclaimed Hank. He took Joey from Sam, tossed him over his shoulder, and carried him into the barn. Sam wondered if he would live to regret his decision.
    32 points
  8. Sam was going to be doing the weekend weather at the station, so he wasn’t able to go with Kurt and Hank to the arm wrestling competition that Hank entered. Sam was disappointed, but it did allow him to continue his prep for his upcoming bodybuilding contest. He and Omar were working on his posing routine, although Omar kept telling Sam that he had nothing to worry about. “Dude, you’re coming in at 290 pounds, and you have an 8 pack and a 32 inch waist. You’re built like a pro super heavyweight, and you’re competing in a local amateur contest. Basically, all you’re going to have to do is walk out on stage and let them hand you the trophy,” Omar assured him. “We do have another issue, though,” he added, as he watched Sam going thru his routine in his new poser. “You mean my prodigious member?” asked Sam, laughing, as he checked himself out in the mirror. He turned from side to side and realized that his skimpy poser was no match for his thick meat, which was struggling to flop out. “Um, yeah,” said Omar. “I’ll get my wife to sew you some kind of sling for that third forearm of yours.” “That would be appreciated,” Sam replied, as he futilely tried to position his package inside his poser. After practicing his posing routine for forty minutes, Sam was ridiculously pumped. He thanked Omar for his help, pulled on a pair of cargo shorts, and waddled his way to his car. Despite his muscles being totally flushed with blood, he wanted more, so he headed out to the barn to lift. He knew he was obsessed, but he couldn’t help it. “Just a few sets of 100 reps, and I’ll stop,” he told himself. Omar had explained to him that for burning fat. Higher reps with lower weight was a good way to go. Omar also explained to him that since he was already down to 3% body fat, it might be dangerous to go any lower. But Sam couldn’t help it. “Once I get to 2%, I’ll stop,” Sam told himself. Meanwhile, two hours away, Kurt and Hank arrived at the gymnasium where the arm wrestling was taking place. As they walked in, a sea of big, macho men parted for the two bigger, more macho men. Karl signed in for the exhibition matches he was doing for charity, and Hank signed for the open competition. The people manning the tables stared at them in silent awe. Kurt had on his signature black polo, now a size 6XL, and hugged his massive frame like a surfer’s wetsuit. Hank had on a checkered flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, his log-sized arms on full display, and black denim jeans that looked farm worn, and fit tight across his blocky power ass and thighs. His thick belt had a brass buckle that was shaped like a big hog. Hank’s swagger and cockiness were on full throttle. For his first pull, he was paired up against a local deputy sheriff, a burly guy in his late thirties, with a good-sized beer gut. Hank made short work of him, smirking the whole time, easily winning three in a row of their best of five. “Go have another donut, fat ass,” Hank mocked. The deputy’s face grew red with ire. He clenched his fists at his side. “Bring it on, deputy dawg,” Hank said. Then he flexed his right arm, and it rose up to 23”, with a deep split running across the top. His deltoid cap arched into three thick ropes. The deputy’s face drained and he took a step back. His hand and arm throbbed from his match with the arrogant punk, and the cop had never felt such a powerful grip. The kid would snap him in two if he got into a tussle with him. As he started to walk away, the referee gave Hank a foul for unsportsmanlike conduct. Hank turned to him with such an angry glare that the pudgy ref almost peed himself. Hank leaned towards him a flex into a most-muscular pose. His flannel shirt split down the back. “Foul number two,” squeaked the shaken ref. If Hank got one more foul, he would be disqualified and lose the match. But that didn’t stop him from slowly pointing into the ref’s face and saying, “I will fucking…”. But before he able to add ‘end you’, Kurt came up behind him, grabbed his shirt collar and tugged him back. “Take it down a notch, cowboy,” Kurt said. He put his big hand on the back of Hank’s overly muscled neck, and led him away. He could feel Hank’s rage ebbing as they made they’re way to a quiet corner of the gymnasium. “What the hell, man? You’re gonna get yourself tossed out of here.” “I can’t explain it. When I take someone down, I get this rush that’s just about better than cumming, and I feel the need to crush something.” “Well, don’t get too cocky. I’ve seen some guys in here that look about as jacked up as you.” Hank picked up a metal folding chair that was on a stack next to them. He held the chair out in front of him, and bent it in half. Then he bent it in half again, twisting the metal like it was taffy. “I’m not worried,” he said to Kurt, as he absentmindedly continued to crumple the chair with his bare hands. “It’s just that I fucking love winning. It’s like a drug that feels better than cumming.” He twisted the legs of the chair like licorice. “And then I wanna rage on something, or someone. I wanna rage till they’re pulverized.” He crumpled the chair into a ball, then dropped it to the floor. Kurt eyed the acne on Hank’s big delts. “You might be overdoing the gear and shakes, Bucko.” “Maybe,” said Hank, sheepishly. He stepped on the crumpled chair with his steel-toed work boot and crushed it flat as a pancake. “How many shakes a day, Hank?” “I dunno. Three. Maybe four.” “Dude. Geezus. No wonder you’re so wound up.” Just then, someone call Kurt over for his exhibition matches. “Try not to snuff anyone while I’m gone,” he said to Hank, who went on to win his next three matches without incident, if you don’t count the broken hand bones of one of his opponents. Kurt showed up before his fourth match. “How’d your charity rounds go?” Hank asked him. “Not great. None of the other sportscasters would go up against me. And two of them were ex-pro football players. I can’t exactly blame them though, they’d pretty much let themselves go to seed. One of them weighed about as much as me, but he was mostly flab. We looked like a before and after advertisement for tren.” “Not much of a challenge, huh?” “Nope, not for this 380,” said Kurt, heaving out his 79” chest and setting the can of Red Bull he was drinking on top of his left pec. “There was a pro soccer player who was game for it, although he only weighed about 160. I let him use both his arms and his full bodyweight. He ended up hanging off my arm like a monkey, so it was good for some laughs.” Hank’s last pull turned out to be against a big tattooed biker, who kept purposefully letting his hand slip loose as Hank was about to pin him. The ref didn’t call the guy out on it, but instead, strapped their hands together. Hank began to seethe, because he hated being strapped to this greasy ball cheater who stank of cheap cigars and whiskey. He let the guy think he was winning, allowing him to push his hand to within an inch of the table. Then Hank swung their arms in a 180 degree arc, and wrenched the biker’s hand so hard that his ulna bone snapped. As Hank slammed his arm down, the guy howled in pain. Hank yanked their strapped hands towards him, pulling the big biker halfway across the table. Then Hank lifted his arm upward, and the guy’s feet left the ground. The biker bellowed as his shoulder dislocated. Hank put his free hand around the guy’s neck and crushed down with his powerful grip, then pulled him in close. “That’s right, you weak fucking cunt. I fucking own you, you faggot son of a whore.” Hank’s spittle sprayed the biker’s swelling face. Kurt came up behind Hank, and wrapped his massive arms around Hank’s torso, and lifted him. As he pulled him back, the referee quickly unwrapped the strap, freeing the arm wrestlers’ hands. The biker fell backwards and rolled to the floor, gurgling and holding his shoulder. That’s how Hank ended up being disqualified from the competition. Kurt carried the bucking Hank out to the parking lot. He put him down next to his truck. “You need to chill!” Kurt yelled. Hank’s nostrils were flaring and his breathing was ragged. He shoved into Kurt’s huge barrel chest with both his hands. Kurt didn’t budge. Kurt grabbed him and pulled him into a bearhug. Hank struggled, and said, “You better hope I don’t break out of this, cause I’ll kick your ass.” “You and what army?” growled Kurt. But as he squeezed harder, he realized that the young juiced up redneck had grown immensely stronger since they’d first met. It was like he was bear hugging 260 pounds of solid iron. All the bloated water retention was gone, replaced by muscle. “Why didn’t you let me at him?” Hank grunted as he struggled. Kurt redoubled his efforts to hold him. “You’d have murdered him, boy. You are nothing but trouble.” “Aw fuck yeah I am. And you like it too, don’t ya? I can feel you gettin’ hard, old man. You feel how fuckin’ strong I am, and it’s making you bone.” “I feel it, you freak. You hot fucking power freak.” Kurt slammed Hank’s back into the side of his pickup, denting the metal. He started bucking against him, and the whole truck moved sideways. “You wanna feel my power in you, don’t ya, Daddy? You wanna feel it grow and grow, till I’m bigger and stronger than ever. You aching for my seed deep inside you,” whispered Hank. Kurt released his bearhug and leaned in and kissed Hank. Kurt grabbed onto the sides of the truck bed, his fingers digging into the metal. The two powerhouses kissed hard, for five minutes straight. Finally, Kurt said, “Get in the truck.” They drove to a dark, secluded parking lot next to a woods. They got out and stripped naked. They admired each other’s bodies, their extreme muscularity and size. Kurt was still much bigger, his back span as wide as the rear of his pickup, but Hank was changing faster, becoming gargantuan at a rapid pace. His neck was wider than his head, and his back was piling up with thick mounds of muscle. He was beginning to resemble a Tolkien orc, and his muscle had the density of polished petrified wood. He jumped into the back of the pickup in a single leap, and motioned for Kurt to join him. Kurt climbed into the truck bed with him, and Hank proceeded to top the huge sportscaster for the first of six times that night. People in the nearby neighborhood thought that it must be mating season for the wild boars living in the area, as they heard the deep, guttural roars and rutting sounds that lasted into the night. In the morning, Kurt and Hank were asleep in the back of the truck, naked and wrapped in each other’s muscular arms. Despite the chill in the air, they were kept warm by their own mass. Kurt woke up and surveyed what was left of his pickup. The cab had been crushed in like an accordion, with all the windows shattered. The tailgate was broken off, and was on the other side of the parking lot. He remembered Hank ripping it off it’s hinges and tossing it like a discus. The sides of the truck bed were dented out. All four tires were flat. They had blown out about halfway thru the night, when Hank’s thrusting had grown more and more powerful. Kurt got dressed, then slowly woke up Hank by massaging his size 16EEE feet. Hank grunted with pleasure as Kurt’s big hands dug into his muscular arches. Hank’s morning wood began to swell. “Get up, stud,” Kurt said. “Time to get going.” “Nah, man,” said Hank, sleepily. “I wanna fuck some more.” Kurt shook his head. The musclebound buck was insatiable. “Tell you what. I’ll suck you off, but then we got to go.” Kurt grabbed Hank by his thick ankles, and slid him until his ass was at the edge of the truck bed. Then he went down on him. “Ah, shit yeah,” moaned Hank, his head lulling back. He grab the sides of the truck with his meaty hands, and the steel creaked as he bent it inward. Kurt worked on him good and hard, and it didn’t take long to drain his huge load, a surprisingly large volume considering the amount he’d pumped out during the night. “God damm, you got a hot mouth, old man. What were you, a street hooker in your last life?” “Shut the fuck up and get dressed,” Kurt said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his great hairy forearm. “We have to go to the hotel and get our stuff.” Hank laughed, and hopped out of the truck. He pulled on his jeans, and as he laced up his work boots, asked, “How far is it?” “About ten miles.” “I’ll race you,” Hank said, taking off across the parking lot shirtless, leaving his torn flannel shirt behind. He turned around, and, jogging backwards at a sprint, said, “Winner gets top.”
    30 points
  9. Hi guys. Here’s my new four-chapter story, with the setting being South Florida. The theme is what will probably become my usual, where a bodybuilder and a twink get sexually and romantically involved with each other. Hope you like it, and I would of course always appreciate any responses that you may have. Thanks, Dennis "CONDO HOOKUP" CHAPTER 1 Timmy was sitting at his desktop computer in his cramped apartment in a typically densely- populated beach city on the Gold Coast of Florida. A lot of his relaxing time at home was spent checking out the many bodybuilder sites. Today, he had one of his favorites open, something called Muscle Growth Forums, where he was about to look through all the gorgeous musclemen for his morning wank. Today he went to the ‘Morphed Guys & Skinny Guys’ thread which was of particular interest to him. He thought it was hot, loving the muscle-size differences between the two pictured handsome men shown. It often also showed the skinny guy touching the ripped bulging muscle of the handsome morphed bodybuilder. And sometimes they were even in an embrace. Gasp! What an ultimate fantasy that would be for Timmy. Yeah, he really looked forward to spending quality time doing just that now. But then he heard BZZZZZZ. “Shit,” Timmy thought. “Probably another solicitor calling me on my phone. I’ll put it on speaker to just hear their message if one was even left by them.” Solicitors rarely left messages, as they knew you were not going to call them back if they did. So, Timmy then went back to his very important activity of jerking his dick. Then the message came on…. “This is the Tahiti Sands calling to schedule your closing as well as the date for your move in. Please call us back at…” Timmy leaped for the phone, surrendering his most pleasurable pursuit to take this very important interruption. The new condominium had finally finished its construction and Timmy was so looking forward to being one of the first residents to move in. He had waited well over a year for its opening as he had purchased it during its preconstruction phase. He was thrilled that he would finally be living in the big glitzy apartment house that had a lot of amenities, including of course a pool and gym. Timmy was born Timothy Meijer in West Michigan, 39 years ago, of Dutch descent on his father’s side and Irish on his mother’s. Growing up blond and very cute, even beautiful some people said, got him lots of pinches of his cheeks from relatives. But at school it was the gay bullying that Timmy had often experienced and endured. By senior year of high school, he had grown to six feet tall, slim and very handsome. He kept the name ‘Timmy,’ preferring it to perhaps a more usual ‘Tim’ for adulthood. He got away from the high school abuse when he went off to a university in Florida, and never looked back. Sure, holidays were sometimes spent briefly in Michigan with family, but his home became where it was warmer in winter and where many areas of South Florida had very sizable gay populations. And it was where he was able to become a very successful model. His tall, slender, blond, very handsome look at South Beach shoots contrasted nicely with the perhaps more prevalent handsome Latino models. * After finally moving in and getting settled into his new apartment, Timmy explored the building, seeing the fancy social room for parties, the barbeque area, card room, game room, tennis and bocce courts, and then the Olympic size pool which was ‘manned’ by a full-time staff. The lifeguard there was a very attractive guy, but, after chatting with him a while, Timmy was not really interested in taking it a step further with potentially dating him. This lifeguard, unlike their usual reputation from some of the gay sex stories he read, really didn’t have the kind of muscle that got his juices flowing. The condo’s gym would be opening later that week, and there was much more muscle potential there, Timmy thought. And hoped. Soon after, on a day when the weather was very stormy and traveling perhaps somewhat dangerous, Timmy thought that it was now the perfect time to check out the gym. He took a quick shower, and then, as he was passing his bedroom’s full-length mirror, he gazed at himself for his usual critical assessment. He looked at his middle-aged slender body that was devoid of very much muscle, though he thought it was nicely toned. He also saw, and knew from professional experience and from casual admirers, that he was considered very handsome. He was hit on by men frequently because of that, but he rarely gave them a tumble. They were never muscle-guys, and Timmy just assumed that that was because they liked other muscle-guys and would not be interested in skinny him. Well, maybe with this very conveniently located gym downstairs he’ll be able to finally put on some muscle. He was determined to do mostly cardio, but with a mix of a little weight training. The latter was to perhaps get a better view of the potential muscle guys lifting nearby. And, if there was any eye candy there, that would keep him motivated to keep coming back. Actually, if he was being totally honest with himself, it was perhaps the only reason to go to the gym in the first place! Timmy scanned the large gym and did a quick perusal to see who else was there. It was a big building, and lots of people had moved in already, which was evidenced by how crowded the gym appeared. He looked around and saw a young heavy-set guy, a skinny older guy, three women who were chatting up a storm about their husbands or boyfriends, a married couple, an overweight guy, and several more skinny guys clustered near the wall. Everyone, it seemed, but his muscular Prince Charming. ‘Oh well, I guess I’ll start with the treadmill after I change,’ Timmy thought. ‘I’ll watch some television there and pass the time that way’. But wait! Timmy’s heart then immediately started leaping as he saw someone very interesting on the far side of the gym. Yes, a major muscle guy who had now made Timmy’s jaw drop. The guy was at the squat rack with an enormous amount of weight on his back. Timmy couldn’t help but stare at his muscles bulging in the pump. So huge and ripped. The bodybuilder then stood up with his back to the muscle-obsessed middle-aged guy, and Timmy was now able to make a study of the Adonis’s remarkably developed muscles on his back, which slimmed to an impossibly small waist in comparison. He saw that his glutes and hams were also extremely muscular as well. Timmy wondered, ‘Oh my god, have I died and gone to muscle-heaven? Is he real? Or is it my imagination going wild because I really wanted to see someone who looked just exactly like this?’ Timmy then squinted a little, and through the mirror that was in front of the bodybuilder, he made out that his muscle-guy was also very ruggedly handsome. Suddenly, the stud turned around and now Timmy was able to gaze at the enormous plates of bulging solid muscle on his chest as well as then definitely the largest biceps he had ever seen anywhere by far. Timmy estimated this guy’s waist and biceps to measure within just a few inches of each other. His delts and traps were also amazing to behold, and every inch of this bodybuilder was so perfectly symmetrically developed. No muscle was neglected. Timmy went a little south on his exploration of the spectacular landscape in his view and he now actually audibly gasped when he focused on the bodybuilder’s obscenely bulging crotch. He wondered if this stud had a hardon, or he was that big when soft. He laughed to himself at this question he had asked that he would obviously never get an answer to. Timmy saw that the muscle-stud also towered over the other guys around him and was twice as thick and wide as anyone else in the entire gym. But there was something about the bodybuilder’s handsome face that looked familiar to Timmy that he couldn’t quite place yet. It took several seconds more and then it clicked with him. “Yes, yes, that’s the new Mr. America! Biff something. Biff. Ummm, Biff Stevens. That’s who he is! Super heavyweight class too! Oh my god, and in my condo’s gym too!”
    26 points
  10. Sam decided to take some time off, so he could fly down and join Kurt at spring training. But first he drove out to the barn to see if Hank was behaving. He found the jacked-up troublemaker out back, using a tireless tractor for military presses. As Sam approached him, he heard Hank grunting as he counted out reps. “Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty…” huffed Hank, then he set the tractor down with a thud. He wiped his hands across his bare chest, streaking his pecs with tractor grime. “Hey, Sam,” he said, as the swear pouring down his broad chest turned rust colored. Sam wondered how much that tractor weighed. Maybe it had had the engine removed? But even still, it was a tractor, and Hank was lifting it like an empty Olympic bar. Since his bodybuilding contest, Sam had put on another thirty pounds of muscle, but even at a solid 320, he could tell that Hank was catching up fast, and was building strength even faster. “Where’s Joe?” he asked Hank. “I dunno. Sleeping, I guess.” Hank picked his old tee shirt off the tractor and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and torso. Then he wrung the tee in his powerful hands, and sweat poured out of the soaked shirt. “Dude, when’s the last time you took a shower? You are ripe as fuck.” Hank lifted his arm, and smelled his deep hairy pit. “Yeah, you ain’t wrong. Wanna whiff?” He raised his arm higher and aimed it towards Sam. “Hell no. Put your arm down, ya big goon, you’re making the birds gag,” said Sam in mock disgust, but both he and Hank knew that Sam was aching to bury his whole face in that muscle cavern and breath it in like a popper. Hank’s musk, no matter how rank, was so thick with alpha pheromones that it was a draw to almost any sentient being. Just then, Joe came walking out of the barn. His upper torso was wrapped in surgical gauze, and he was walking with a limp. His face had scratches all over it. “Jeezus, Joe, what happened to you?” Sam asked. Before he could answer, Hank said, “He fell out of a tree.” “You mean that tree that’s laying in the middle of the yard? The one that’s on the Arbor Society’s registry of majestic American trees?” “Yeah, that one,” said Hank, matter-of-factly. Sam noticed that Hank had scratches all over, too, they were just harder to see thru all his veins and striations. Hank bounced his pecs absentmindedly. “I’m fine,” said Joe. “Yeah, see, he’s fine,” added Hank, strumming his 8-pack. “Come on, Joe,” Sam said, putting his massive arm around Joe’s athletic shoulders and leading him back into the barn. He took him over to the horse stall that had the refrigerator in it. He opened it up, then handed Joe a bottle of herbal milk. “What’s this?” Joe asked. “Hank hasn’t been giving you any of this?” Sam asked. Joe shook his head no. Sam looked back at the fridge, confused. There were only a few bottles left. “Then where did all the stuff go?” “I been thirsty,” said Hank, leaning on the doorway nonchalantly. Despite being built to accommodate horses, the stall door was filled by Hank’s hulking frame. The shadowy light of the barn made him look like menacing presence. “You outta text Kurt and have him get more…a lot more.” “You text him. And while you’re at it, explain to him why we’re almost out. Meanwhile, here.” Sam reached into the fridge, pulled out a bottle and handed it to Hank. Then he took one for himself. “Here’s to the medicine man. Drink up.” The three of them drank from the bottles. “Make sure you get every drop, Joe, it’ll help you heal.” When they finished, Sam went up to Hank. “Let me talk to you for a sec.” “Ok,” said Hank, expecting a lecture. Instead, Sam took him aside and said, “If you haven’t been giving him the shakes, how’s he been growing so fast?” “Well, I sorta been giving it to him indirect like.” It only took a few seconds for Sam to figure it out. “You know, you’re not as dumb as you look.” “You fucking got that right,” said Hank. “Is it working?” asked Sam. “You tell me. Look at him.” They both looked over at Joe, who was busy rimming the lip of his empty bottle. He had grown to the point of looking like a lightweight bodybuilder, his shoulders broadening, his waist tightening, his legs thickening. His face more masculine. “Good to know,” said Sam. Then he noticed Hank looking at him like he was a snack. Hank’s deltoids and traps were swollen huge with tractor pump. His breathing was deep and strong. The air was thick with his musk. He rolled his powerful shoulders back, heaving out his thick pec shelf, and studied Sam hungrily. “What are you doing?” Sam asked. “Making your pussy twitch,” answered Hank as he spat some chew out of the side of his mouth. “I have a plane to catch,” said Sam suddenly. “Sure you don’t wanna stay and get driven to the edge of insanity?” Hank asked, giving Sam a sneering grin. Sam got a chill down his spine, but shook it off. As he headed toward the barn doors, he said, “Make sure you text Kurt. He’ll have the stuff overnighted. Share it with Joe this time.” “I’ll share it with him both ways. And when you get back, I’ll test it out on you, too,” Hank promised. When Sam got to his car, he had to sit for a minute to decompress. What had just happened, he wondered. As he drove to the airport, he got pulled over for driving distractedly. The young cop recognized him from TV, and said he really loved it when Sam flexed on air. “Like this?” Sam said, flexing his 22” arm out the window. When he saw the cop go wide-eyed, he said, “Go ahead and touch it.” “Whoa,” said the cop as his fingers felt the huge peak. “That’s way bigger than it looks on TV!” He let Sam go without a ticket or a warning. Sam thanked him and said they should workout together sometime. The rookie cop looked like he’d just gotten asked to the prom. As Sam drove off, he looked in the mirror and saw the officer staring after him, as if in a muscle trance. Sam knew the feeling.
    26 points
  11. Hey Y'all first time posting, I've got a couple chapters done of this story, hope yall like it! While sitting in art class I found myself unable to look away from Vinny Lorenzo’s ass. He was a goofy jock with a bold Mediterranean nose. He didn’t take the class seriously, just a place to goof around with his friends. His back faced me as he stood joking around with his buddies, and his cute butt creased the fabric of his Nike sweatpants. I had a perfect view from the table behind him, in a spot where I could make furtive glances without looking far from my clay sculpture project. He wore a white T-shirt, which revealed his slim waist when he lifted his arms; it seemed to make his ass look even better. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I love the tall jockish guys. Doesn’t matter what sport they play: football, baseball, wrestling, swim, they’re all just different flavors of eye-candy. Vinny played football or something, at least I think that’s the group he hangs with. His sport gifted him with wide shoulders, big arms, and a meaty pair of jugs. “Wait, wait let me see,” Vinny leaned over his friend to look at their phone, and the white brim of his boxers peeked over his waistband. Things like that are so sexy to me. My dick got hard under the table, I scooted farther underneath to hide the stiffy in my jeans. I felt myself enter a state of laser focus, the world around Vinny’s ass blurred out of view. His cheeks began to take up more room in his joggers; it was working. I felt myself get even harder. I rubbed my cock up against the underside of the table. With each tingle of pleasure, my influence made his rear swell larger. He jerked his head back, laughing at the video on his friend’s phone. Falling backwards, he bumped his fat ass into my table, jostling the clay mug in front of me. I grunted as the edge of the table slammed against the bottom of my belly, and squashed my dick. “Woah, sorry,” he said with a chuckle, receiving scoffs from the others at my table. He walked back to his cackling friends, and I watched as his once slightly baggy pants now clung to his meatier legs. The crease of his ass was no more, as the material was now stretched taut between the pure density of his cake. It was so fucking huge, that thing started to cast a shadow over his thighs. And then, he flexed it. The cheeks bunched up toward the center, pinching the tight gray fabric, then parted like the red sea, and I swear it jiggled before returning to rest. I was so horned up, that I let my influence get carried away. He literally surged larger in that moment, in all directions with a low, sexy grunt that turned all the heads toward him. His white T-shirt now clung close to his beefier torso, pulled extra tight around his armpits and meaty shoulders. The hem of his shirt now hovered juuust shy of his belly-button, displaying the soft treasure trail on his abs. Now I’d like to shed light on something I haven’t brought up enough yet: Vinny’s ass. It was so huge now, that I could make out where the seam down his crack was beginning to split. Those poor pants looked painted on to that man's lower body. I was in disbelief, he must have gained ten pounds in that second alone. I saw his friend’s eyes lower to Vinny’s junk. “Woah, dude,” he said with a laugh. “You should go take care of that monster before someone gets hurt.” Vinny let out a goofy chuckle, and turned toward the teacher, revealing his front to me. His pecs now stretched the shirt into a uniboob, the only other landmarks on the curved surface were his erect nipples. I brought my gaze down to the pièce de résistance. His thick cucumber cock reached over half way down his thigh, clearly visible through the tight gray material. Slack jawed, I raised my gaze to his thicker neck, which added to his heavy masculine jaw. I looked at his eyes, and realized they were staring right into mine. A wave of pink washed over me as his sleepy brown eyes lusted for me, with an expression of gluttonous desire. Then he blinked and jiggled his head, like he returned to reality. “Miss B.,” he shouted. “Can I go to the little boys’ room?” He grabbed the hall pass, and sauntered toward the bathroom, his head noticeably closer to the top of the door frame. I felt embarrassed as all eyes watched their freshly beefed-up classmate leave the room, with an ass you could balance a cup on. He didn’t seem to mind though, as he swaggered through the room with the sound of stretching fabric following his thickened body through the door.
    26 points
  12. This is a story which I posted on the wrong section (archive). Rome is a collegiate athlete. For the last 3 years of his college life, he has been training hard and it really shows. At 22, 6'3 and 250 lbs, he has a body that rivals those big YouTubers you see online. This body of his earned him the title of team captain of the football team. Not only that, with his fair skin, thick eyebrows, and thick brown hair, he is deemed as the campus' heartthrob. One night, after training and working out with his team, Rome really had the urge to fuck someone. After cockily putting his body on display to the team in the shower room, he put on some baggy pants and a tight black tank top that showcases his thick arms and really highlights his huge chest. He decided he'll go to the bar and pick a fuck buddy for the night. After all, he could get anyone with his looks. Arriving at the club, his body alone is already enough to get him looks and turns. On his third drink, someone sat next to him. "That one's on me!", the man said. Rome looked and saw a short Asian man. The man looked young, almost like a college freshman. At around 5'5, Rome dwarfs this guy. "Aren't you a little too young to be here?", Rome asks with a smirk. "Haha I'm 21, today's actually my birthday, see?" the man replies, showing Rome his ID. "Hmm, so your name's Evan." Rome said, returning Evan's ID to him. "What do you want from me?" Rome then asks. "I always see you at the campus gym, and frankly, you really turn me on. What do you say we hit it up?" Evan says with a smile. "I don't think you can handle me." Rome replies, once again with a smirk. "Come on, you know you wanna do this. Besides, I can give you an experience of a lifetime." Evan teases, touching Rome's arms. Rome really wanted to release his load tonight, so he reluctantly agrees. Evan brings Rome to his dorm. They both take off their clothes. Rome strips down, revealing his powerful body and his 10 inch cock. Evan takes his jacket off, showing a skin tight white shirt, revealing some definition in his body. He's not big by any means, probably 135 lbs, but he's got some definition. He then removes his pants, revealing his own 4 incher. Just as he was about to take off his shirt, Rome cannot wait and pulls him to the bed and started fucking him. Evan was caught by surprise. But his moans and groans of pain turned into moans of pleasure as he sees the view while he's getting rammed. "Ugh fuck, you're so hot!" Evan said as reaches and caresses Rome's pecs. His hands explore Romes torso. "Ugh, dude you're gonna make me cum!" he replied back. Rome posed a double bicep and showed off his bulging arms to Evan. He's so big that it turned Evan on even harder. "You're so hot man- ughh! Sh-shit! Ughh!" Evan cums to the sight of Rome's flexing. Evan's cum shot up to Rome's mouth as he was moaning harder. "Ughhh fuck I'm gonna cu- UGHHH!" Rome moans and whimpers as he ejaculates into Evan's ass. Cum fills Evan after load after load is released by Rome. All while Evan continues to rub Rome's muscles. "Ugh fuck that was good" Rome pulls his cock out. Their moans die down and all that's left are their heavy breathing. "My turn..." Evan says. "What?" Rome confusely asks. “I'm gonna fuck you now, baby," Evan said while Rome licks his lips. "And I'll make sure you feel every inch of my cock." "Huh? You? What w-" Rome cockily says before getting interrupted. Evan grabbed Rome by the waist and pushed him down onto the bed, switching their position. Rome cockily chuckles, looking at Evan's 4 inch cock compared to his own 10 incher. "What are you gonna do, huh?" Rome cockily teases while flexing his muscles in front of Evan's scrawny frame. Rome's 6'3, 250 lbs frame completely dwarfs Evan's 5'5, 135 lbs. Evan ignores Rome's teases and grabbed the base of his 4 inch shaft and started pumping in and out of Rome's tight hole. The feeling of having another man's cock inside his body made him moan louder than ever before. "Fuck yeah, baby! You're so fucking hot!" Evan moaned as he continued to pound Rome's ass. "Ughhh! Dude what the fuc- ugh" Rome moans as he feels Evan's cock throbbing inside his ass. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" Evan moans as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside Rome's ass. "Ughhh shit!" Rome moans loudly as he felt Evan's cock pulsating inside his ass. "Ughhhhh! Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" Evan moans as he starts to spurt his load all over Rome's insides. "Ughhh! Ughhh! Ughhh!" Rome moans as he feels Evan's cock spurting his seed inside his ass. Evan smiles, knowing a step of his plan has been enacted. After a few minutes of rest, they both got up from the bed and went for a shower together. They were still naked and their dicks were hard. They both got into the shower and began to wash each other, Rome not knowing Evan's plan. While showering, Evan kneels in front of Rome. "Okay, here goes nothing," Evan thought to himself. He grabbed Rome's dick and started sucking it like a pro. "Mmmmmm, mmmmm!" Rome moans as he feels Evan's tongue sliding along his shaft. "Oh fuck, ughh!" Rome moans as he grabs Evan's head and pushes it deeper onto his dick. "Ughhh! Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to suck Rome's cock. "Damn, you're really good at this!" Rome moans as he starts to feel his orgasm building. "Ughhh! Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Rome moans as he starts to shoot his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he swallows Rome's load. "Mmppphhhh!" Rome moans as he feels his cock spasm and start to spew more cum into Evan's mouth. "Fuuuck! Mmmmm!" Evan moans as he keeps swallowing Rome's load. But Evan continues to suck even harder. "Ughhh! Fuck! I'm cumming again! Okay, enough..." Rome moans as he continues to pump his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to swallow Rome's load. He continues to suck HARDER. "Man, I said enough..." Rome whimpers. But Evan sucks harder. Rome starts to feel a bit weak. "No, I said stop!" Rome whimpers. But Evan keeps sucking harder. "UGHHHHH! FUCK PLEASE! STOP!" Rome screams. "ugh I'm cumming again!" Rome yells as he shoots his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to forcefully suck Rome's load out. Rome tries to push Evan away, but to his surprise, Evan is not moved by this. He seems stronger "Mmmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to suck Rome's load out. He feels himself getting bigger and stronger. Evan starts feeling his arms and chest be filled with more mass as he swallows more of Rome's seed. "Ughhhh, dude please!" Rome cries out in pain as he feels his cock spasm and start to spew his load into Evan's mouth. "Mmmmmm!" Evan moans as he continues to swallow Rome's load. Evan feels his cock grow an inch or two, he also feels Rome's shrink in his mouth. "Ughhh! Ughhh! AAAAAAAAH!" Rome screams as he feels his cock spasm and shoot his load into Evan's throat. Evan swallows it all and stops. Evan then stands, looking Rome in the eye. Rome opens his eyes and notices how he isn't looking down at Evan that much anymore. "Fuck dude, that was hot!" Evan breaks the silence. Rome is still too stunned to speak. Rome begins looking at Evan's body, noticing how muscled Evan is. Evan then proceeds to inspect his now 8 inch cock and brags about it to Rome, "Wow, this is huge, thanks for that!". Rome looks at his own cock and sees his shrunken 6 incher, also noticing his own body. "WHAT THE FUCK?! MY COCK! M-MY BODY!"
    25 points
  13. This is an old story of mine that I was hunting for. Enjoy Little Buddy I was walking downtown and needed to take a piss real bad. There was a washroom near the local park so I ducked in there. Usually there were a bunch of young hustlers around standing at the urinals looking for trade. Today there was no one around. I pulled out my cock and started to piss, when a guy walked in. I didn't look (you're not supposed to - at least not right away). He came up to the urinal and stood there. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him and started to shake. The guy had to be 6'8" and he was fucking HUGE! He looked real rough - shoulder length, scraggly dark hair, thick mustache, mirror shades. He was wearing a XXXL sweat shirt that barely contained his mass. His shoulders were immense and his arms, even covered by the shirt were huge. His forearms were hairy with a few tattoos and looked to be about as big as my calves. His chest jutted out and heaved as he breathed. He stood next to me and unzipped his pants. He pulled out one of the biggest cocks I'd ever seen - it had to be at least 8" long and it was soft! I felt a lump in my throat and thought I was gonna pass out. He started a long stream of piss and then talked to me. "Geez, man! Fuckin' good workout today. Got a real good pump goin'." His voice was deep and husky. Real sexy. "Yeah?" was all I could manage. "Yeah, fuckin' pumped up huge today." I finished peeing and zipped up. He finished and zipped up too. We moved to the sink. In front of the mirror he started bouncing his pecs under the sweatshirt. I felt my cock starting to harden and focused on washing my hands. "Just headin' back to my place for a beer - wanna join me?" he asked. I was a little nervous. "Well, I --" "Hey, I'm cool, Man. I might be a big fucker, but I don't bite. I just hate kickin' back by myself. My buddies are outta town and my girlfriend fucked off a month ago. Whattaya say?" I thought for a minute, thinking that I could be walking into the biggest basher that I'd ever seen. But he didn't sound like that. "Sure," I said. "Great! Name's Jesse." He extended his huge hand and I shook it. My hand was like a little kid's in his big paw. "Keith," I said. "Well, Keith, I just live around the corner. Come on." We walked a block to an apartment building and up to his place. The apartment was not large and there were a lot of weights lying around. Big weights like I'd never seen before. There were also crow bars, some twisted like pretzels and there were 2x4 planks some split in half. Messy, but exciting. "What does he do in here?" I thought. He went to the kitchen and brought out two beers. I sat on the couch and he sat next to me. That was strange I thought, but I liked being close to this monster-sized man. "Yeah, my girlfriend took off about a month back. Said I was gettin' too big. Too big! Can you believe that?! I mean, fuck she's got herself a 36 year old, 6 foot 11 inch, 600 lb. fuckin' stud. Thirty seven inch arms, man! Eighty five inch chest! Too big? You think I'm too big?" "Uh... I dunno. You look huge to me." "Fuckin' monster, Man! Look at this bicep." He lifted the sleeve of the shrt and flexed his massive arm. The peak of the bicep was as big as a baseball. The rest of the bicep was like a basketball and the triceps hung down in a huge arc - round and full. "Man!" I gulped. "That's fuckin' huge!" I gasped. "Go ahead and touch it, Man. Feel how fuckin' hard that is." I put my hand on the peak of the bicep. He twisted and flexed and reflexed the muscle over and over. "Shit thats wild," I said quietly. "Feel's real good, man. I like that. Shit, you know, you look just like a little buddy of mine when I was in prison. Nice guy. Bunked with him for a few months. He liked feelin' this big muscle too. You like it?" I swallowed. "Yeah, I do," I said. He flexed that massive arm over and over, twisting and turning it, showing it from different angles. "My little buddy was real hot for this muscle. The bigger I got, the hotter he got. Fuck! With no women around, I was really into that with him. I'd flex every fuckin' muscle. My pecs, arms, lats. He couldn't get enough of it, man! I learned how to fuck ass with my little buddy. Shit! That's a feat with a cock like mine, man. Most women can't take it - but him! Woah, he had me so fuckn' into his pussy, I'd fuckin' flex for him while I fucked him. I'd bounce my big hairy pecs for him. Even kissed him - shove my tongue down that hot throat." My cock was getting really hard. My hands started roaming over his shoulders and onto his massive thick pecs. He bounced them for me, and I groaned. "Yeah, little buddy. Feel those big pecs bounce, man! Feel that muscle, man!" He was getting lost in my adoration of his mass. I felt his pecs his massive thick abs, and over his crotch which was getting bigger the more I felt him. "Let's go into the bedroom, little buddy." I followed behind him staring at how huge he was. His back was immense and filled the door to the bedroom. He turned around and stood there in a huge relzed pose. Even fully clothed this guy was huge and hot! "Get naked for me, little buddy," he said. I undressed and stood in front of him. "Fuck yeah! Nice slim little body on you, man. I like that." He pulled off the sweat shirt and I finally saw his massive hairy pecs. He flexed them and moved closer to me. He leaned down (I'm only 5'11" and 160lbs) and put his huge hands around my sides. His thumbs caressed my nipples as he pulled me closer and his lips met mine. He parted my lips with his tongue and kissed me deep. My cock was rock hard now and throbbing. My hands rested on his massive forearms and slid up to his biceps. He tightened them while he continued to probe my mouth with his tongue. I could feel his stache against my lips and nose, and started to bite at it. He groaned, and kissed me deeper, his hands finding my ass. With all the power that I knew was in those massive hands, he was real gentle. I felt his huge fingers find my tight hole andhe started circling it. I squeezed his pecs and he flexed them in my hands. "Yeah, baby! Feel those huge pecs. Squeeze that fuckin' muscle. It's all for you, baby." He stood back and unzipped his pants. He turned away as he pulled them down and I saw his huge hairy muscle ass. Hard and thick glutes topped his thick hamstrings and massive calves. He turned around slowly and I saw his cock, now half hard. It looked easily 10" and was only part way there. "I need your mouth on my muscle cock, buddy," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. I knelt down in front of him. His cock twitched and started flexing it. I hadn't touched it yet and was getting bigger - harder and longer and thicker. Twelve inches of massive muscle cock was flexing in front of my face. I reached out a held it. It was hard as steel. I put my mouth over the massive head and started to suck in as much as I could. I got about half way, but the thickness was too much. I started licking and stroking his cock. He just looked at me, watching my tongue glide up and down his shaft. He flexed his cock and it flew back out of my hand. Shit! Even his cock was strong! I sucked him for a few more minutes and then he pulled me up to his chest and kissed me again. I could feel his massive cock between my thighs pressing up and lifting my weight. "Mmmm, little buddy. I gotta show off for you, now, get you real hot and ready for me." He stood up from th bed and started posing, his huge 12" dick flexing and bobbing in front of him. He hit a double biceps pose and his massive arms exploded in size. He held that pose for a minute as he examined his own muscle, twisting his fists and forearms. He hit a front lat pose and his lats expanded like wings. I stood close and started feeling him in each pose. He just watched my hands roam over his massive, superhuman body. He hit a thigh and ab pose and the thick eight pack jumped out, bunching and twisting, quads like oak trees thick and hard. He turned around and hit a back lat pose and I gasped. His back expanded to at least 3 feet across and his ass was so tight and striated! God, my cock was throbbing looking at all that incredible size, incredible power and masculinity. He turned and faced me. "You want all this muscle makin' love to you, little buddy?" He flexed his cock and hit a lost muscular. Every muscle bulged with power. His traps were like mountains beside a bull thick neck. Shoulders broad and bunched with heavy muscle, massive pecs striated and bouncing, even in this pose and even through all that fucking hair. Forearms like twisted steel cables, massive and powerful. Big fists that could crush concrete blocks. I was ready to pass out and he moved closer, hitting the pose again, but surrounding me in it. I was enveloped by all that massive muscle. His cock pushed through my thighs and he stood up. My weight was easily lifted by the power in his massive muscle cock. "I gotta make love to you, little buddy," he said, and he put me on the bed. He kissed his way down my body, gently licking my nipples, my stomach and my cock. His fingers brushed and played with my tight hole. My hole twitched as he played with it and I groaned. He laughed a little and continued to work my hole. "Yeah, hot pussy, man! Hot fuckin' pussy for my cock. I gotta eat that fuckin tight pussy, little buddy, get you really loose for me, man." His tongue and fingers were working my hole. Every time he said "fuckin' hot pussy" I just about came. Finally his tongue was completely inside me, one massive hand supporting the small of my back. He tongue fucked me for what seemed like forever and my body shook with the skill of this massive muscle giant. He sat back and grabbed some lube. He lubed my ass with two fingers (easily bigger than nost of the men I'd had before) and lubed his massive cock with his other hand. Then very gently and very slowly he pressed against my hole. "Yeah, gonna fuck my little buddy. Gonna fuck you real slow, man. I want you to feel real good." My hands felt his massive shoulders and hairy pecs as he entered me. He kissed me really hard and made one last push. He was in! The whole 12" monster was deep inside me. His hands were feeling my body as he slowly fucked my ass. "Hot fuckin' pussy, man! Hot fuckin' boy pussy for my huge fuckin' meat. Feel these muscles while I make love to that tight hole, baby." He flexed his massive bicep near my face and I licked the thick sweaty muscle. My tongue found his sweaty pits and he groaned again. He fucked me long and deep with slow strokes, and I could feel every inch of him sliding in and out. "Gonna fuck the cum outta that cock, baby. Gonna make you feel real good with all this muscle, man. Yeah! You need a real fuckin' man huh? Feel that fuckin' muscle! FEEL MY FUCKIN' POWER, MAN!!" His fucking picked up the pace a little and i could feel him expanding inside me. My cock was throbbing madly and iI knew I was gonna shoot. He sat back and hit a double biceps pose and thrust into me firmly. I felt him flex his cock inside me and my own cock started shooting on my stomach. "YEAH! LITTLE BUDDY! FUCKIN' MY LITTLE BUDDY!!! BIG MUSCLEMAN FUCKIN' THAT TIGHT PUSSY! YEAHHHH!!!" He hit a most muscular pose with his cock deep in my ass. I could feel his cock expand even bigger inside me filling me completely and he started to cum in waves. His muscles tightening and he seemed to be getting even more pumped as he came in my ass. Finally he stopped and his huge muscle slowly pulled out of my spent hole. We were both sweating, but he lay there, his huge arms holding me from behind. "Yeah, little buddy. That was fuckin' good." He pressed his cock, still half hard between mmy thighs and I squeezed it. His huge bicep was like a pillow under my head, and he played with my softening cock in his big hairy hands.I could feel his hairy pecs bouncing against my back. "Mmmm," he said. "Next time, I'll have to show what all this fuckin' muscle can really do."
    24 points
  14. One day, Hank and Joe were hanging out at the barn. Sam was at work, and Kurt had gone to Florida to cover spring training. Joe had been getting some good workouts in, and had gained ten pounds of muscle and had new veins popping up all over, despite the fact that between his sets, he had to do Hank’s bidding, like adding plates to his bars, or stripping plates off for drops sets, or wiping Hank’s sweat off the benches, or sucking Hank’s big dick. Pretty much anything Hank demanded, otherwise Joe would get tossed around the barn like a pinball. Because, in the same amount of time that Joe gained ten pounds, Hank had gained forty, and was now up to 298. Not that Joe minded giving the blow jobs. He was convinced that the big dude’s jizz was what was making him grow so fast. Once, after he worked out, he was flexing his 16” arm in the mirror. He saw Hank walk over. “Look,” said Joe proudly, “I got muscle now, too.” He did have a pretty nice peak rising up. Hank reached out and put his index finger on the peak and his thumb underneath, then he squeezed. Joe yelped and tried to free his arm, but Hank’s grip was too strong. He squeezed harder, and Joe crumpled to his knees. “Now you got pulp,” the brawny arm wrestler said. “And since you’re already down there…”. Then he made Joe blow him. Hank had found an old tractor out behind the barn, and he ripped the big back tires off so they could flip them across the property. So far, Joe had trouble flipping them more than a few times, but Hank would squat down next to one on his mighty haunches, then send the tire flipping over and over, some fifty yards, with one powerful thrust. Sometimes a tire would end up crashing into the woods at the edge of the property. Hank would send Joe down to retrieve it, and Joe would struggle to upright the tire, then roll it back up the grassy field as the tire wobbled and twisted on the uneven ground. Joe would be heaving for breath and drenched in sweat by the time he got the tire back up to the barn, but he was building core strength and leg power in leaps and bounds. On this day, Hank picked up a tire, whirled around with it and tossed it like a discus. The tire sailed thru the air like a flying saucer, smashing into the woods, splintering saplings into kindling. “Ho, yeah, did you see that?”crowed Hank, flexing his arms, then spreading his huge lats, turned on by his own strength. “Now go fetch it up,” he said to Joe, smacking him on the back of his head, sending him stumbling. Joe took off down the hill, rubbing his head. Getting the tractor tire out of the undergrowth of the woods was no easy task. By the time he managed that, then rolled it up the hill, he was exhausted and covered with brambles. This was his sixth retrieval of the day. He plopped down to the ground. Hank came over and said, “Now look what you done, you got the tire all muddy. Hose it off.” Joe looked up at Hank, then over at the hose that on the side of the barn. He crawled over to it, turned it on, then got to his feet and walked back to the tire. He squeezed the nozzle and water came out in a jet stream, but instead of directing it towards the tire, he turned it right at Hank’s face. He sprayed and sprayed, and as Hank put his hands up to block the jet stream, Joe stopped, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Hank dropped his hands to his sides and made them into huge menacing fists. The cold water made his skin tighten across his deeply defined muscles. His pecs swelled out with rage and looked hard as titanium. Even his nips hardened up, as if looking for revenge, as water dripped off them. “Oh, you are one little dead fuck. Hope you’re ready for a real long enema.” As Hank took a step forward and grabbed the hose from him, Joe took off running to the woods. He heard what sounded like a rhino coming after him. Joe headed to the nearest big tree he could find, and clambered up it, his ten years of gymnastics aiding his efforts. He climbed up to a branch that was well out of Hank’s reach. He looked down as Hank reached the base of the tree. It was a big oak tree, the trunk sturdy and thick, but when Hank slammed into it with the calloused palms of his angry hands, the whole tree shook. He slammed into it again and acorns fell all around him. “You think you’re safe up there, grasshopper? Guess again,” Hank said with a snarl. He wrapped his huge arms around the trunk and started tugging. At first, the trunk barely moved, but after each powerful yank, it inched more and more, first one way, then the other. The skin on Hank’s massive back grew ruddy from the effort. He snorted as he pushed and pulled the mighty trunk. Tree bark crumbled under his arms, his muscles harder than the wood itself. The ground rolled as ancient roots began to tear thru the hard clay soil. Joe climbed higher up the tree as the branches began to sway as if in a hurricane or an earthquake. With demonic strength, Hank lifted the tree upward and began to trudge with it, out of the woods, ripping out more and more root with every powerful step. Joe lost his footing, but clung to a branch above him, his body flopping around like a monkey’s. Hank muscled the tree out of the woods with his 34” quads, then let it go crashing down onto the field. He stood over the fallen oak like it was his conquered prey. He reached out and grabbed the thickest old root, which was sticking straight up in front of him. The root was so hardened by age that even an ax wouldn’t cut thru it, but Hank snapped it in two like it was a stalk of celery. He squeezed it in his hand until the root pulverized and oozed thru his fingers like grits. Meanwhile, Joe was trying to scramble his way out of tree, but the branches trapped him in like a misshapen birdcage. Hank ripped the branches apart as he made his way to him. Hank reached in thru the tree’s canopy, grabbed Joe by the arm and roughly yanked him out. He ripped his clothes off him, then dragged him up to the hose and sprayed him down. Then he hosed himself off and dragged Joe back to the fallen tree trunk. He bent him over the thick trunk. “I been saving that virgin ass for a special occasion, and I reckon this is good enuf,” Hank said, as he stroked himself hard with one hand, and pinned Joe down with the other. Then he went to work on him.
    24 points
  15. CHAPTER 3 Later that week, Biff had returned to his apartment after a grueling arms and chest day at the gym and he felt so powerful with a ton of energy. After finishing some email correspondence, he went in to take a shower and stripped himself naked. In passing, he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. A cocky grin automatically appeared on his handsome face whenever he saw his muscles pumped to the max like now. Just exquisite he thought! Dark hair buzzed short, long dark eyelashes with caterpillar-brows, straight white teeth, and perfect skin. And one full day of thick shadowed stubble added to his masculinity. Almost too wide to be seen in the mirror, his shoulders were capped by rounded and seriously defined striated delts. His muscles were massively developed and beautifully shredded with only 3% body fat and they bulged so sensuously. Huge pecs were steel-hard solid. His now relaxed biceps were each beautifully adorned with a thick sexy vein and carved horseshoes on the triceps side. He was asked to frequently flex them, and they’ve been measured many times recently by admirers at an incredibly high-peaking 25-inches with very defined indented splits. He stepped back a little from his reflection and quickly reviewed his quads and calves. He saw that they were amazing looking, as leg day is never ignored by him. He then studied his eight carved cobblestone abs and strummed his fingers over them. His hand then led down to his trimmed pubes that clustered around the base of his showpiece, his now soft, big bodybuilder-dick. His thoughts for the last few days had often gone to that really handsome sweet guy from the gym the other day. So slender and indefensible he thought, and Biff loved the muscle-heaven trance that he had sent the blond haired, pale blue eyed, major-cutie into. Biff had recognized the guy as a popular model, who used to be seen a lot at South Florida shoots. Thinking of him caused Biff to touch his big dick with his muscular hand and he felt it respond immediately. It lengthened and thickened, fighting against gravity, as it rose to a 90-degree angle. As it hardened, he flexed his diamond-etched quads, all four heads defining so beautifully. There was nowhere in his physique that wasn’t developed to symmetrical perfection and bulging to major proportions. Countless articles and commentaries had mentioned that he would easily win and be the next Mr. Olympia. Many even mentioned the handsome looks that he had to boot. Biff had been diligently working out for many years, intent on building a major muscular physique that had powered his fantasies since he came to terms with his sexuality back in high school. What turned him on more than anything was becoming a hugely muscular and powerful bodybuilder and having a slender cute boyfriend. One just like the guy in the condo gym a few days before whom he fantasized worshipping his physique. The only reason that he had gone to his building’s gym was because of the shitty weather that day. Most other times, he went to his hardcore gym a few miles away. Biff viewed it almost as fate, since he wouldn’t have seen that stunner if he hadn’t gone to the one downstairs. Biff’s heart raced and his dick hardened more as he thought of the model and knew that he just had to see that guy again. He decided he would snoop around the pool, gym and other public areas of the condo later in the day and maybe he’d run into him. He might even go to building security or management and perhaps flirt a little to have them reveal his apartment number. Biff jumped into the shower, which was especially enjoyable when he had a great pump as he did now, as he loved the feel of soaping up his hard bulging muscles then. His dick was semi-hard, but he resisted jerking off. Cockiness was ever present with him as he thought it seemed criminal to keep all this sexiness to himself as there were so many admirers out there that would want to partake in his physique and dick as well. He dressed in his usual tight-fitting clothes that he knew was the perfect magnet for all the lusting eyes out there. When he walked into the kitchen, he checked out the fridge and cabinets, and saw that he was running low on food supplies, so a quick run to the nearby Whole Foods was next on the agenda for him. He soon left his apartment and headed for the elevator. * Timmy started getting out his keys to enter his apartment after having a nice long lunch with friends at a local trendy restaurant. He heard a nearby door close and his peripheral vision then detected someone coming toward him from down the hallway. He turned to look in that direction and the slender man’s jaw soon lowered as he saw who it was. Biff Stevens was coming his way, and Timmy thrilled to the thought that the gorgeous bodybuilder was obviously his new close by neighbor! But he also couldn’t hide his extreme desire for Biff as he quickly breathed in as the stud closed the distance between them. When leaving his apartment and beginning his walk down the hallway, the bodybuilder was also surprised to see the handsome guy from the other day that he’d been frequently thinking of, about thirty feet away from him. Just before the model turned his way, he thought the time was now right to majorly turn on the muscle-charm for this special admirer. Biff’s confidence and cockiness was fueled by his handsome looks and muscular physique. When he wanted to especially impress someone whom he was interested in, he exaggerated his walk and went into a light strut, showing off just what he thought the admirer would like to see. Biff had pin-pointed Timmy as a muscle-obsessed man who wanted a dominant alpha bodybuilder with a body like his. "H-Hi there," Timmy forced out in a squeaking very nervous voice as he now looked up at Biff. Of course he was very interested in talking to Biff, but his brain had again suddenly directed all his energy to his dick and heart, causing his lungs and mouth to slow. He also felt reticent in trying to make the right impression on him. “I-I remember you, ohhhh….” He came to a sudden halt when he looked at Biff’s pectorals, which danced just a bit with the bodybuilder making just a small movement. "Hey,” Biff’s standard opening, said in his deep masculine voice, looking down at Timmy. Yes, this cutie was definitely his type, he knew. He loved the handsome slender man’s gawking at him at the gym the other day, and now again. Timmy, though he was a nice height at about six foot even, was quite a bit shorter than Biff’s 6’5”. The model stood there breathlessly staring at the muscleman’s physique. With his slender build, he may have been half the weight of the professional bodybuilder. Biff looked at Timmy’s blond hair, which was cut short on the sides. It appeared to him to be as if a bowl was placed on his head by his hairstylist, who then cut only the hair that was showing! Biff chuckled at that thought, as he looked down at the oh-so-very-fuck-able man, causing his cock to now harden. One of Biff’s attractions to him was Timmy’s extreme nervousness with him. The bodybuilder assumed that he probably was never that way with anyone else, but the slender man was so overwhelmed by his muscularity that he couldn’t fully control his actions. Biff was used to that with some other admirers, but he saw that Timmy was even trembling, which he found so adorable. Biff casually scratched the back of his head. This was a ploy he often used to get additional attention from guys he thought had good potential for muscle-worshipping. Sure enough, he immediately heard Timmy gasp as the muscle-obsessed man was dazzled by the beautiful sexy high-peaked biceps on the handsome bodybuilder. "Hey," Biff repeated his opening from earlier, after they had stared at each other for a period much longer than was usual for two strangers. Timmy then stood back a little and looked up at Biff, waiting for what the bodybuilder had to say next. Biff continued, “We’re neighbors!” But Timmy just dreamily half-smiled back and he realized that he needed to say something to calm him down a bit and relax him. "I love your hair style, little boy. Looks like a cute Dutch Boy look." Biff followed that with an always-successful white-teeth-and-dimples smile. Timmy giggled and then blushed at the flattery. But the compliment seemed to do the trick, perhaps giving Timmy some greatly needed encouragement to somewhat open up. He was now able to smile fuller, but he was still in a somewhat nervous daze. Swooning perhaps? Many people had told him, all his life, how attractive he was. But it never came from someone whom he was really smitten with, and so lustful for, as this guy right in front of him now. "T-thanks... Thanks... I eh, I’m uhhh, yeah, we’re neighbors! Wow, well, I guess if you went to the gym downstairs, I knew that you probably lived in the building. But my god, I never imagined that you lived right down my hallway.” He then giggled again and looked down blushing at what he just said, and at his embarrassingly excited state in general. Trying to toughen it up, Timmy looked back at Biff, and then continued. “And, sorry I didn’t say hello to you when I saw you the other day in the gym. I really wanted to, but, well, it’s just, umm, I obviously had a real problem then even speaking. I don’t usually get that way, but for some reason I guess I did with you then. And, gosh, I obviously still have that problem again here with you now.” Another giggle and more embarrassment at his obvious flirting. Biff looked at Timmy with a very amused smile. But he was also feeling something he was not familiar with in himself. He couldn’t quite analyze his feelings fully, but it was almost like he was falling for this guy, and so quickly. Timmy was having those same feelings, though his was overshadowed by his extreme lust for Biff. To distract himself, he grabbed at his keys. "M-my name is Timmy, by the way, and uhh, well, I confess, I recognize you from the Internet." Biff saw that this guy was so nervous that he even had a hard time opening his door. "And I like your haircut too...it’s the bodybuilder look! Very nice. And very, umm, masculine." Biff chuckled as he looked at Timmy and nodded him a thanks. He reasoned that if he remembered him from the Internet, it was no doubt from muscle sites. And, because this guy has not much muscle himself, he knew that he was on these sites jerking off as a muscle-admirer. ‘Probably even wanked to me also!’ Biff thought, with his smile getting fuller. Timmy was finally able to unlock his door, though he was still somewhat in a daze. Biff stepped much closer to the slender man, then put a muscular hand on his back with his biceps bulging on that arm. Timmy gasped, with then a very low moan, with his actually being touched by the handsome bodybuilder. He looked up to Biff, then at the cephalic vein on his biceps, then to the striations in his deltoid and then to his pectorals. His eyes stayed there several seconds as they were right in front of his eyes. As Timmy breathed in the muscleman, Biff heard another soft uncontrolled moan. Timmy then looked back to Biff’s eyes, giving a shy smile to the man of his ultimate fantasies. The bodybuilder strummed his fingers onto Timmy’s back, with a hand that pretty much encompassed most of it. The muscleman was driving him wild as the slender man’s eyes fluttered in excitement, his mouth open, as he seemed to be almost near to orgasm. The closeness to such beautiful muscularity was just too much for Timmy to fully control intelligent thoughts and speech.
    23 points
  16. Of all the things Raphi expected of Thor, being a good cook was not one of them. Raphi wasn't sure how but the frat brother could whip up any kind of food, but mostly protein, at the drop of a hat. What was unconventional was that he did so naked. Raphi yawned and sipped his coffee as he watched Thor’s gigantic muscled ass sway back and forth as he made breakfast for the entire house. The newest member of the fraternity lazily ran a hand down his body. It felt different than yesterday and still had a bulging stomach where Dante’s had spewed his seed. He felt a bit more energized, and his underwear fit different, but he was still the same nerdy guy that followed Dante around like a lost puppy the day before. Thor didn’t seem to think so. At nearly seven feet tall, the Adonis's still eclipsed Raphi in both size and height but he had greeted him with enthusiasm and warmth, welcoming him to the Frat. And he had decided the best way to welcome Raphi was with a big ass breakfast spread. The brothers of the house simply came and went from the kitchen area, greeting Raphi as they entered and exited. None bothered with wearing any kind of apparel, displaying their gargantuan bodies freely without so much as a care in the world. Some ate immediately, and others simply strode by, nude, chatting and flirting, and some stopped to ask if Raphi wanted to fuck them. Raphi turned red and fidgeted awkwardly as he declined each offer. This house of hunks continuously left him speechless, their forward and frankly blasé attitude toward sex made the newest member blush harder with each suggestive question or innuendo laden comment. Sooner than he thought, Thor piled a massive breakfast feast in front of him and nudged Raphi to dig in as the hulking naked Adonis seated himself directly next to Raphi and promptly scarfed down several protein pancakes at once. "So, how'd ya like last night?" the man growled around his fork and mouthful of flapjacks. Raphi smiled, amused at the lack of decorum that most of the frat shared. These fraternity brothers acted so unaffected, as if being nude and offering mindblowing sexual experiences at the drop of a hat were completely normal. "Uh, good. Great even. I'm just, still kind of shocked." he blurted, face flushed with the heat of his arousal as his mind wandered back to the absolutely incredible sex he'd had with Dante. He'd never in his life imagined that a man as powerful and beautiful as Dante would have even looked at him, let alone fucked him into the ground and filled him up with his thick cum. Raphi put a hand to his now only slightly round abdomen and his face heated. Thor glanced up and watched him curiously, following his hand to the little pudge that remained after his romp with Dante. A faint knowing smirk etched the hulking male's lips. "I bet he filled up good. I don't think Dante's ever bred a new brother before, so he probably pumped his nut deep," Thor snorted with amusement. "Especially since you're still stuffed," Thor added. "Just wait. You'll be bigger in no time." "What?!" Raphi retorted, eyes wide. The buff guy couldn't help himself and a grumbling guffaw erupted from him. "Big! Strong! Buff! Hot as fuck, horny as hell, and everything in between! All you gotta do is work out and let Dante's magic splooge to the rest." Confused, he pointed to his cum belly, "This will make me bigger?" "Yup! It's a good starting point for now, but if you want to get as huge as the rest of us you'll need to fuck somebody. Doesn't matter who, there's lots of options," Thor laughed merrily. He slouched back a bit after finishing his food and flexed an arm as a demonstration, bringing the mound of muscle high and thick, veins popping into relief across the thick striated balls of muscle. "This is how big you can get. I'm damn near the biggest man in this house and I get bigger every chance I can get. Lifting whenever I can to feel just how fucking STRONG I am man. Once I'm pumped and horny, ready to go, I find some brother that needs a good dicking and rail em til my balls are dry." Raphi could only gape at Thor's beefy arm and watch as a wave rippled over its surface with each flex. He wasn't the only one. A few of the brothers had come entered the kitchen and leered at the naked giant sitting next to Raphi, openly eyeing Thor with lustful gazes. Feeling his nerves starting to get the better of him, Raphi excused himself from the table before what he suspected was going to happen, happened. Thor waved lazily as Raphi left before he was swarmed by two other brothers and the kitchen table evolved into a fuck fest. Raphi roamed the rest of the house hoping to find Dante somewhere. He was a bit upset that when he awoke Dante was nowhere too be found. Raphi really wanted some more answers from someone he trusted. The new alpha wandered the house attempting find his friend, winding in and out of open rooms on the first floor until he came to the showers. As soon as he approached the door, it flung open and unleashed a wall of warm steam. The surprise and sudden heat caused Raphi to stumble backwards and land flat on his ass. "Oh damn, sorry man. Didn't mean that." Raphi looked up. And up. And up. Another enormously muscular man loomed over him, his long sleek black hair hung in front of his face dripping water across Raphi's exposed flesh. A huge veiny arm extended from the muscular man, offering a gesture of help, the other held a thick white towel tightly around his defined waist. Raphi gulped as he took in the man's beautifully strong body, his eyes following a drop of water as it meandered down the Adonis' cut chest and hard abdomen, until the droplet hid itself inside a curly, frizzed thatch of dark pubes. It was difficult to tear his eyes away. Raphi found it too enticing, too seductive, and this stranger, like Dante and the others, oozed a sexual magnetism like no other. He trembled slightly before accepting the help that the attractive, well-built specimen offered. "You alright? Seriously didn't expecting anyone in here if Thor has been cooking." His apology rang genuine, and Raphi nodded before realizing he had to actually talk. "I'm okay." Once again Raphi felt his heart flutter and his dick twitch being in such close proximity to a hulking muscle god. His dark hair and pale skin gave him a goth vibe that was thrown off by just how obscenely muscular he was. What caught him off guard were the slightly morbid tattoos that accentuated his muscles. Intricate tattoos depicting all manor of death and decay adorned the man's entire body, running the lengths of the arms, to the shoulders, and pecs, and further still to his chiseled waist. Dark and dower imagery including skulls, chains, devils, and ravens depicted in exquisite detail outlined every inch of this man’s beautiful body. They caused the muscles of his arms and torsos to pop as though they were straining, causing the veins underneath his muscles to be magnified. "You alright little dude?" Again, the concern in the tone and eyes made Raphi ache with a need he'd never experienced before. He shivered with lust. His dick pulsed in his pants again and again, wanting something more, to touch the man's hard chest and sculpted abs, and was so tantalizingly within reach. This handsome stranger was nothing like he'd seen anywhere else, his deep voice captivated him. The raven haired man's face narrowed for a split second before he smiled wryly, his eyes alight with mirth. "Well if it isn't our newest member! Welcome to your new life! Don't worry, almost everyone goes through this awkward phase when they see the house. It's like sensory overload, but you'll adjust to it. I remember the first time I saw Jason, that dude fuckin’ broke me." Raphi, his heart still beating through his chest, struggled to breath and speak at the same time. This man's lips were so full, kissable... His eyes a shocking deep green... And not to forget the tattoos that made him look like a sex addicted, tattooed demon god. "Oh, is this a bit much? Sorry, I'll throw on a shirt real quick." He leaned slightly out of view and threw on a huge and worn concert t-shirt. It did little to alleviate the building sexual desire that was overflowing within Raphi, instead the thin cotton fabric further revealed every well-defined detail of the gothic tattooed hunk's towering physique. "Better?" "Yeah, thanks," Raphi weakly breathed. The punk stud laughed a melodic low rumble and stepped out of the communal showers, sauntering around Raphi and heading down the hall towards the main entrance stairs. He stopped before he rounded the corner and cocked his head and winked at the stunned red-faced Raphi. "C'mon man. I don't bite, I swear!" He stopped for a second and the sly smile spread over his face again. "Well, sometimes." Raphi was certain of one thing, he wanted this man. No questions asked. His body finally kicked into gear, legs feeling weak and his hands shaking, following the adonis around the corner in what seemed like slow motion as he drank in the entirety of the man’s beauty. Muscular yet sculpted was the best way he could described the way the sight of the man’s tattooed perfection. This was a guy who could have anyone he wanted and fuck until the sun came up but was aware enough that he hid his body so that Raphi could think again. Truth be told, Raphi was relieved that this punk stranger had decided to turn the heat from a boil to a simmer by at least keeping some clothes on. In just a few minutes Raphi was led into the bedroom of a sexy muscular Adonis for the second time in twenty four hours. This room was significantly different than Dante's messy stye of a room, the young punk's room was clean and tidy with plenty of space to move around. The large bed was nice and clean, and with black sheets that looked as though it cost as much as the entire room. The walls were adorned with posters of metal bands, gothic style art and horror movie icons. The room had such a strong aesthetic that stood out from the rest of the men he'd seen so far that Raphi had trouble believing that he was in the same building as the sexy messy football studs that were the majority of the AAA members. "Penny for your thoughts?" the green-eyed jock said as he kicked back on his bed, letting his huge body relax as he sank into this onyx pillows. "Uh. Well first, what's your name?" "Mephistopheles." Another cheeky grin. "I'm fucking with you. It's Mark. But that's boring as hell." He casually crossed his immense biceps behind his head and stretched out further, sinking himself deeper into the plush pillows. His now loose Iron Maiden shirt rose several inches, exposing a thin patch of hair that was creeping into a swirling navel tattoo that ended just below his well-defined abdominals. Raphi blushed and turned away. "Raphi, man, relax. Just take a breath, okay? I know you want to look. Everyone does." When Raphi turned back around he finally let himself drink in the sight of the huge powerful punk and do it unabashedly. The man was truly fucking stacked, even at ease his form was sculpted and cut and perfectly defined by those interesting tattoos that contrasted with the hardness of his body and enhanced his dark beauty. "Much better. Looking at me is more productive than hiding from what's making you hot. C'mon, have a seat." The kind hunk patted his lap that was still wrapped in a towel, his hand lingering on the obvious bulge in his towel. An aura of sensuality so intense and potent emanated from the taller man that had Raphi's head swimming. Shakily, he advanced towards Mark paused as he got close to the hunky punk's body. Mark held his gaze, not deviating, his face warm and inviting. Raphi gingerly seated himself upon the edge of the bed, his nerves still getting the better of him as he remained perched uncertainly. A big warm hand rested on his shoulder and slowly pulled him gently backward, onto the welcoming muscular body. "Some guys take this this real well. Hardly need any kinda direction. Some guys, like you, realize that this shit is crazy. Bonkers. Fucked Up. Amazing. And stressful as hell if you're not ready for it. It's okay. Just take it easy, and do what feels natural. I promise I don't bite." Raphi nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "Can I-?" he began tentatively, his hand starting to feel the beef pecs before him. The sexy stud nodded. "Of course, dude. Check out every inch." Some of the tension and fear eased as Raphi made contact with the Mark's swollen pectorals and worked his fingertips against the huge mounds of masculine flesh and the gorgeous swirls of the intricate tattoo designs that extended onto each lump of perfect muscle. Mark let out a deep moan as his body was worshipped, flexing his muscles for all their worth where Raphi pressed and squeezed. The smaller man let his hands roam farther down Mark's body, rabidly spreading across the huge man, onto his washboard abs and gripped harder. Another vocal moan of approval followed as Raphi continued to caress his partner's rock hard body. To entice his new bro even more, Mark raised both of his arms above his head, and flexed his upper body with a ferocity Raphi had never seen before. He gasped, seeing the muscles swell, thicken, and grow everywhere, including where Raphi sat. Mark’s huge erection bulged underneath the towel that Raphi rested on. The smaller man could feel the thick sausage pulse and swell underneath the thick towel as Mark dry humped him through the fabric. After a few more moments of muscle humping, Mark slowly undid his towel and unleashed his painfully erect cock from it’s cotton prison and rubbed his fully aroused 10 inch glory against Raphi’s back. "God you're fucking hot." Raphi whispered. All it took was that lustful look from Mark to stop him dead in his tracks. "So are you." Mark grinned. Faster than seemed humanly possible Raphi had shed his clothes, his small cum belly still protruding from his otherwise slim body. Mark licked his lips and leaned back, spreading his legs, showing off his rippling thighs to his worshiper. "Well looks like you've got me right where you want me." The goth god cooed playfully. "What are you going to do about it?" He spoke naughtily and his voice seemed to send a shock through Raphi's cock. His thin body straddled the man beneath him, as if he was about to go on the ride of his life when suddenly… "Show me your ass." Raphi ordered, surprising himself. Mark's eyes twinkled with lust and he followed orders, reaching down past Raphi to completely remove the towel wrapped around his waist. With a playful push he scooched Raphi from his lap and turned over in bed revealing his gargantuan back muscles and huge ass. Raphi moaned with a need that he had never felt before. He pressed his small hands against the huge mounds of perfectly formed muscularity before him, and squeezed, digging into the dense tissue and drawing out another groan from his willing prey. He bent forward and kissed the top of each tattooed peach of strength, inching his way up the muscular Adonis' spine, planting smaller and smaller kisses on each vertebra until he reached the broad shoulders at the top of his frame. Mark grunted again, rolling his hips underneath Raphi and rubbing his huge erection on the mattress as he adjusted his stance to present his ass. "What're you waiting for?" Mark coaxed, pressing his muscled ass backwards. The twin tattooed hemispheres touched Raphi's cock and the shock he felt drive him wild. Raphi was as hard as he had ever been, his five inch cock fully aroused, throbbing, leaking and harder than he had ever been in his life. He began touching his lover more and more, caressing the huge buttocks, rippling back and bowling ball shoulders, inching his way closer to the dark hair as he breathed in the scent of Mark. His musky man smell made Raphi’s diamond hard cock harder still. "Come on little stud. Fuck me." Raphi groaned and planted a small hand on either cheek and pressed his hard cock into the cleft of the glutes of the sex god beneath him. The round boulders of tattooed muscle spread for him easily as Mark relaxed his beefy cheeks, each giving way just enough that Raphi found his perfect warm hole. With a gasp, his cock slid effortlessly inside the Adonis's slick hungry ass. Immediately there was delicious pressure from the well sculpted athletic man around his dick and Raphi let out a full throated moan of pleasure. His nails sunk into the hard meat of the Adonis' back, not just pushing his dick inside him but holding on for dear life. Raphi hadn't done something like this before and never had a hole make his dick feel this fucking good. As Mark began adjusting his hips and clenching his hole to draw Raphi further inside, Raphi began to thrust, the pace slow and methodical. He ground his cock within the Adonis each time, rubbing as deeply as he could within him. Mark made another low groan of approval and bucked his ass backwards, meeting the thrusts of his small partner. One of his powerful hands had drifted underneath his broad body and he began slowly massaging his own iron hard monster cock. "Harder." He gasped. Immediately Raphi obliged, shifting his hands to the man's firm hips and clamping down on them as an anchor to slam harder into the willing bubble butt. Mark groaned again in appreciation as the pace of his stroking and the speed of his bros thrust increased. Raphi was sweating, the immense sculpted mass of man beneath him was hot, slick and heavenly. Raphi growled slightly as he continued to pound the tattooed dream boat for all he was worth. He must have been doing something right as Mark's sweet sounds only got longer and louder. Each thrust forced the tattooed stallion to bury his face into his pillow and roar with need. Raphi felt the lust in his loins slowly ramping up and the smaller man leaned over and wrapped his arms around the huge man's torso feeling the hot sweat slick pecs tighten and the abdominals clench as Mark stroked his own behemoth cock like his life depended on it. The sensation of his fingers grasping at the tight ridges of steel as they undulated with each breath under his grip coupled with the tight and wet sensation of his powerful ass squeezed around his painfully hard cock brought the smaller man to a fever pitch. His heart pounded away in his chest, an instinctual desire of sexual arousal taking hold and now guiding his movements and thoughts. "Oh f-fuck. I'm gonna cum." Raphi panted, his skin tingling and his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh please, cum inside me. Fill me up." That was it. Whatever control Raphi had left of his inhibitions snapped as Mark begged and pleaded for his seed. The sight of the enormously huge jock with intricate tattoos accentuating his ungodly huge muscles jerking himself off as he was fucked from behind sent Raphi over the edge. In an instant his body went rigid as his rock hard cock suddenly erupted inside his muscular lover. His orgasm was wild and explosive, sending electricity down his entire body from head to toe. Eyes rolling back, Raphi blew a copious torrent of thick and creamy cum deep into the goth hunk's ass, his hips slamming harder than they ever had before as the new alpha let himself loose on Mark's finely crafted rear. He came for close to a full minute, each rope of his warm cum seemingly was milked out of him by the stud's talented asshole. His hands wrapped more tightly around the enormous man as he continued to slam away through the burst of sexual glory, finding the hard nipples on the stud's marble hard pecs and twisted them without mercy. Mark growled and whimpered, his moans became higher pitched and desperate as his ass contracted around the smaller man's cock while his sensitive nipples were squeezed expertly. He came instantly, his ten inch monster blasted volley after volley of hot cum onto the sheets and his firm ass clamped down on Raphi's pulsing cock in a rhythm that prolonged Raphi's own orgasm. Both men's hard bodies were soaked in sweat as Raphi collapsed onto Mark's sculpted back and hung on as he waited for the tremors of their earth shattering climaxes to end, not noticing that his swollen abdomen had receded, leaving him with the beginnings of a six pack. Mark's held firm, seemingly unbothered by the extra weight, holding his position underneath Raphi as his orgasm subsided. Raphi broke the silence after a few seconds. "That. That was incredible. Dude, I... Have no words." "You don't need them." Mark panted. "It's about to get better." Unsure what he meant Raphi paused for a moment. He noticed that Mark hadn't moved from his submissive position and had in fact recovered his stance as if he was ready to go again. When he started to squeeze his ass around Raphi's cock again the smaller man finally noticed that his dick had in fact not gotten soft. It was as hard as ever. Raphi gasped as a tingling spread out from his abdomen across the rest of his body. It was subtle at first, then his hips bucked automatically, pushing his engorged member back into Mark's impossibly tight hole. The sensation was unlike any Raphi had ever experienced, it was extremely pleasurable, every muscle in his body shuddered as they got hotter and hotter, a pleasant stretching sensation following the full body tingle. It felt so incredible, so blissfully wonderful that Raphi could not stop himself from humping Mark's sexy butt, his small cock eagerly pushed into the hulking punk, the muscular body hot and wet and delightfully tight, ready for more. Mark gasped as the assault on his was continued. His entire huge body trembled as a wave of intense pleasure shot up and down the length of his body, arching his back and pushing his head back to cry in a pleasure filled roar. His body burned with need that he was unable to escape, even if he wanted to, as Raphi's hips continued to piston cock against his prostate. Raphi’s thrusts were longer and stronger than before, filling Mark’s ass better than ever. The sensation of constriction around his dick felt even tighter than before, squeezing more firmly. Confused but undeniably aroused, Raphi pulled his cock out of Mark's willing behind. Raphi gasped as his cock was revealed from where it was hilted and saw that it was bigger, thicker and harder than ever before. His previously modestly sized cock had lengthened by at least two inches! His shaft visibly was slightly thicker and rounder, veins standing out prominently as the monster throbbed. Globs of sweet pre cum dripped off the tip with each pulse, more erotic and vivid than it had ever appeared. "W-what the hell? Did, did my dick get bigger?" He stammered, confused but aroused. Before Mark could answer he felt the tingling burning sensation spread out from his dick and he marveled as his body began to thicken and swell with pure power. With each heartbeat the throbbing and aching heat rushed through Raphi's blood. Muscles began enlarging across his thin, tight body. Raphi groaned with uncontrolled lust as his entire body grew while leaning against the sexy Adonis's back, his dick slapping against the two round masses of muscle while he watched himself grow in size and shape. Instinct took over and Raphi leaned over to feel and grab Mark's immense beefy pecs in his hands, kneading them with firmness as another wave of dizzying pleasure overcame him and he positioned his newly engorged cock at the entrance to Mark's taught ass. With a fluid thrust and powerful grunt Raphi plunged his colossal cock balls deep inside the enormous stud, now bigger and harder than ever. "AAAAH, oh-oh f-f-f-fuuuUUUUCK! GODDAMN!" Mark howled as his huge tattooed body twisted beneath Raphi, shaking with need as he felt his tight muscular ring instantly expanded to a point of near painful stretch. To his credit his ass could handle the sudden increase in size and girth. He squeezed his ass tighter around Raphi, encouraging him, begging him to fuck him into the mattress. With a thunderous growl Raphi began long rapid thrusts with the fury of a beast, nailing the alpha's prostate with newfound strength. The harder Raphi fucked Mark the stronger and more potent the sensation felt. Raphi gasped and moaned as he flexed an arm, seeing the striations pop out against the skin, enhancing his muscles, making them fuller, firmer, and larger. The hormones continued to run through his veins, feeding every cell with an overwhelming powerful and intoxicating lust. Raphi pumped his beefy bicep and continued to force his enlarged and throbbing cock into the willing and tight ass beneath him, feeling his muscled cheeks spread wider and wider, the twin mounds bulging and round, becoming pink and irritated the fucking got faster. Raphi defensively felt big now. He had to have grown several inches taller and every shred of fat on him was now hard lean, powerful muscles. Adjusting his weight he pushed the beastly cock even deeper into the stud with newfound intensity and fervor. The smaller man reveled in the new power and stamina that thrummed through his veins and pounded into the Adonis without hesitation or caution. Hips slamming loudly and heavily, each thrust produced a resounding smack that reverberated around the room over the passionate grunts and growls. Each flex of his increasingly impressive musculature was followed by another hard thrust, sending Mark even deeper into the bed, sinking into the plush mattress. Mark turned his head once again and grinned back at Raphi, a vicious lust filled smile, his deep green eyes wild and sparkling with understanding. The darker Adonis locked eyes with his and moaned out a lustfull plea, "Yeah. Fuck me dude. Fuck me hard and full. Use that big cock and hard body, I love it." The last vestiges of Raphi's restraint evaporated. Raphi grabbed a fist full of the Mark’s hair, pulling him back and shoved his fat swollen cock balls deep, the enormous stud groaning and bucking as he was impaled. Adjusting his grip to better leverage the tatted beauty below, the newest frat brother slammed his newly burgeoning cock in and out of the voluptuous rump without pause. No longer a virgin, Raphi discovered his skill and confidence inside Mark with each and every thrust. He never slowed, adjusting his stance as he felt his legs grow bigger and shifting positions to better slam away. Mark whimpered, almost purring in delight at the continued pleasure of being claimed by the newest Alpha in the house, turning his gaze back up at his lover with encouragement and lust, biting his bottom lip, cajoling him onwards to further pleasures. Raphi released his hold on Mark's beautiful hair, his larger hands gripping both shoulders as he prepared for his climax. Both men, sweating and panting continued to rock in unison and let their instincts guide them to an animalistic summit of arousal and strength. A final thunderous and violent thrust landed square on the enormous hulking Adonis' g-spot causing Mark's ass to immediately clamp around the length of cock inside it and all ten of his glorious inches to spew ropes of hot sticky cum into the mattress beneath him. As Mark spasmed and shuddered and cried out in uncontrollable orgasmic pleasure Raphi's own climax rocketed through his body, sending his brain and body both into ecstasy. His engorged cock exploded, blasting load after warm creamy load of seed inside his goth lover’s tight bubble butt. The smaller newly muscled alpha felt his body jolt with shocks of pleasure at every load his fat cock pumped into the giant stud, his bulbous balls contracting with each spurt. And not just his cock either, the rest of Raphi's body felt tight and hot and powerful as though his entire body, every cell that made it up, had been revitalized and altered. He was different. Stronger. Sexier. More assured and confident in himself than ever before. He pulled out his now eight inch cock and loosed a long moan as he saw his manhood in it's full glory. He flopped down next to the enormous alpha stud, finally out of breath and feeling spent. His mind swam in a haze of post orgasmic bliss and body tingled all over with sensations and feelings he'd never experienced in his life. He flexed his stomach and used his newly enlarged arms to feel his defined midriff, marveling at the definition as Mark settled in beside him, soaking himself in his own cum that had sank into the sheets. "That was..., I mean. Wow." Raphi panted heavily. His handsome companion smiled, his green eyes alight with that genuine attitude again. "Happy to help man. I just hope you'll feel a bit more at home in your body now that you've had your first fuck." He flexed an impressively sized bicep, kissing the rock hard peak of the mountain before him. "I felt the same when I first got here. Full of loud mouthed huge dudes with giant cocks and a one track mind. Took some time to find someone I felt safe being with my first time." Mark ruffled his hair and looked him dead in the eye, "Just wait, you're gonna love it here." *** Again, procrastination (and work) took over for a bit so sorry for the delay. I also had to cut a few pages between the last part and this part as they just didnt seem like a good fit. But I'm glad that I've finally gotten this one out the door as I think it's one of my best works. And it introduces a gay twist on a straight trope that I think came out pretty well: Big Tiddy Goth BF. I'll post a picture of Mark below.
    23 points
  17. POP Part 4 [Thanks for your comments, friends. This chapter is very dark, but I’m eschewing content warnings to avoid spoilers. Think of it as a gay muscle Quentin Tarantino movie.] “Open up, armed police!” Detective Steve Carnitas yelled on the second-floor balcony of the seedy motel. Without waiting for a response, Detective Jonah Brick smashed the door in with a splintering kick. Carnitas covered his new partner while he leapt into the room with his Glock raised. A blond, enormous Double-DBag bodybuilder fell over a coffee table as he backed away in fright, glass smashing. The smaller, powerfully muscled perp with the chest tattoo paused only a moment before making a dash for the back door of the suite. “Runner!” “My specialty,” Brick said, and sprinted after the perp, crossing the front room in barely two strides. Carnitas gave the room a quick 360, noting the web camera, lights and laptop, then warned the dazed blond to stay put before following Brick through to the back. He found him gripping the railing of the back fire escape, triceps bulging as he peered down at the ground, where the perp was hopping the back fence. “He’s getting away!” Carnitas fumed. “Calm your tits, bro,” said Brick. Holstering his weapon, he jumped onto the railing with the agility of a cat, his iron thighs coiling like springs. A second later he leapt, flying over the fence like he had wings. He landed square on the perp in the neighboring parking lot, slamming him into the gravel. “Watch out, Brick he’s still dangerou—“ WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD Brick’s muscled arms were a blur as he pounded six fists into the perps face. His body convulsed under the force of the blows and then laid still. “Huh.” Carnitas made his way back to the front room, where the six foot two, 350 lbs blond meathead was just getting to his feet. “It’s okay, you’re safe now, we got ‘im.” WHAMMO! Carnitas’ nose flattened under brass knuckles and he was knocked to the floor. “Mother. FUCKER!!” he swore. Blood streamed onto the cheap carpet as he got to all fours. The blond was already out the door. Steve got to his feet, shook his head once, and then barreled after him. On the front balcony he caught sight of the blond, already down the stairs, racing toward a black Chevy Silverado parked at the far end of the motel parking lot. “Freeze, asshole!” he bellowed, aiming his gun, but the man kept running. “Damn it!” Steve descended the stairs two at a time and then jumped halfway down into a running start, his size 18 police boots carving divots in the blacktop as he propelled his 450 lbs of muscle after the victim-turned-perp. The blond reached the truck and stuffed himself into the cab, but fumbled the keys with his right hand still in the knuckle-duster. Steve roared and his pants split over his 26” calves as he accelerated his sprint, charging the truck like a vengeful bull. The blond turned over the engine just as the huge detective slammed into the passenger side. His meteoric momentum cratered half the cab, and the meathead punk was buffeted by airbags as Steve ignored the pain in his shoulder and crossed in front of the disabled truck. His great, heaving breaths sprayed blood on the cracked windshield as he stared daggers at the erstwhile driver. “I give up! I give up!” the punk lied, promptly plowing another metallic fist into Steve’s eye as he approached the window. The blow knocked him back several steps, and volcanic rage bubbled up like lava from his thumping chest, adrenalizing his huge muscles. He took a hop-step forward and then jumped three feet in the air, landing an elbow drop on the cab that crushed it flat. The front tires detonated simultaneously with an explosive bang. “Fuck.” Carnitas slumped against the wreck, gulping breaths, his horse-sized heart racing from the unexpected cardio. He blew bubbles of blood out his nose, trying to control his respiration as two patrol cars screeched into the parking lot, coughing out Flint, Hamm and a couple of uniforms. Hamm took one look at Steve and hustled over with a first-aid kit. “Jeez, Carny, you’re bleeding like a rare steak at Ponderosa.” He slapped gauze pads on gashes on his left delt and right tricep and applied pressure. “You should see the other guy.” Steve’s voice was a kazoo as he tilted his head up and held his nose. “Help, I’m trapped!” piped up the muscle-punk from under the crushed metal. Lieutenant Marcus Flint’s muscular chestnut arms were bare, like his team’s backup call had caught him in the middle of his end-of-day workout. With a powerful yank he ripped off the mangled passenger-side door and peered in at the perp, his shoulders pinned to his knees by the caved-in roof. “What are you complaining about, boy? You get to suck your own dick while you’re down there.” Detective Brick approached with the other perp, holding him upside down by his ankles. Steve noted the perp’s physique looked much less impressive this close; his legs were skinnier than Brick’s brawny arms. “Okay, boys, make a wish!” Brick yanked the legs apart like a wishbone and the perp howled as something snapped in his pelvis. Urine streamed down his abs, streaking away parts of the “GONNA POP U BITCH” tattoo as Brick dumped him on his head. “Make up. Huh.” Steve groaned. “My bad, guys,” Hamm said sheepishly. “More cosplayers. Thought it was a good lead.” The piss-stained perp rolled onto his knees and wheezed: “Police brutality! I’m gonna sue!” Flint backhanded the punk so hard his head bounced off the asphalt, knocking him unconscious. “No one was talking to you, bitch,” he growled. “Goddamn it, when did perps get so spineless? In my days as a beat cop, they’d take their lumps like men.” “Preach, boss,” Brick agreed, his veiny biceps and triceps bulging as he ripped off his bulletproof vest and slung it over his shoulder. He patted the rippled abs visible through his gray police t-shirt. “But I’m fucking starving, can we eat while we debrief?” Steve raised his free hand. “Yes, please.” “I know just the place,” said Hamm. *** “Cosplayers my ass,” said Carnitas. “You ever see a ComicCon where the nerds walk around with brass knuckles? Those jerks were mob.” He destroyed half a chicken sandwich in one bite. “Fuck me that’s good,” he groaned. The four big policemen were crammed into a booth meant for six at Bad Brad’s Diner, Detective Tyler Hamm’s favorite place for after-hours grub. The 5’10” 300 lb musclebear brandished the bone of a turkey drumstick he’d just devoured like a chicken wing. “Makes sense. With all the dough the perp is making off the snuff vid. I could see ‘em wanting a piece of the action.” “Do we need to worry about real copycats?” asked Brick, licking the juice from his fingers after inhaling a 20 oz rib eye. “Maybe,” Steve talked around his next mouthful. “But I’m more concerned about our perp’s next victim. He promised us there’d be one.” He swallowed, wincing slightly from the pain of his busted nose. Lieutenant Flint reached crosswise across the table with his powerful arm and cradled Steve’s chin in his calloused brown hand. He turned his subordinate’s head to get a better look at his injuries. “You sure we shouldn’t have let the paramedics take you, son?” Steve smiled, his dick plumping at his virile mentor’s touch. “I’m right where I want to be, sir.” Brick reached around his thick traps and squeezed his delt. “You’re tougher than I took you for, bro.” “Total stud,” Hamm agreed, rubbing Steve’s forearm. Their waiter, a cute chubby musclecub, dropped off a tray piled with more food and a round of beers. “You guys are such a hot polycule. Let me know if you’re looking for a fifth. I’m game. And drinks are on me.” Flint raised an eyebrow as the youth sashayed back to the kitchen. “What’s a fucking polycule?” “You bring us to some kind of queer diner, Ham and Cheese?” said Brick. Hamm shrugged. “What can I say? They got great food, and ass for dessert.” He reached for a beer but Flint slapped away his hand. “After-work drinks are for after work, son.” “Fine, ‘Dad’.” “Where we at on the sex assault angle, Brick?” “Both Tinker and Crust were bred by the perp in the mouth and ass. Dr Stain confirms that the semen contained cuntofil, this new boner drug Steve got from his contact. And Stain also confirmed the obvious after sending away for special testing: both vics were on athenabol.” Steve continued: “Stain didn’t have much to say just yet about my theory that an interaction between Piledriver and Double-DBol made the vic’s muscles vulnerable somehow to poppin’. But he’ll look into it.” “Hmm.” Flint folded half a chicken breast in a waffle, and dipped it in gravy. He chewed thoughtfully. “And the suicide-by-pop angle?” “Crust wasn’t in much shape to be properly interviewed,” said Steve, “and the Bedlam shrinks didn’t allow us much time with him.” “But Tinker’s shrink released his file, under court order, and there’s some juicy bits there.” Brick flipped open his police notebook. “Longstanding depression and muscle dysmorphia, recently had a relapse following an incident at work at the supplement store. Got shown up by a new co-worker, smaller guy into the Steamroller exercise cult. Crushed him in armwrestling in front of his meathead friends. Dude was off work after that.” “That guy sounds like a real jerk. Could he be our perp?” Steve asked Hamm. “Still trying to get employment records from the store manager, but expect them this evening at the end of his shift. I’ll text you later if they come in.” Flint sat back, letting out a satisfied grunt and rubbing his belly as he checked his watch. “Speaking of Steamroller, we’re due for a check-in with the fifth of our poly-whatsit.” “And look at that, he’s right on time for once in his life.” Hamm’s phone lit up with a contact photo of spread buttcheeks covered in downy blond fuzz, with a pale pink pucker. ‘My Asshole Partner’’ was superimposed above the image in white font. “What the fuck, Tyler?” “Bit of an in-joke, boss. But that’s really him, if you care to know,” said Hamm. “I really, really didn’t. Answer the damn call.” Hamm balanced his phone on the napkin holder and the four men leaned in to see Garrett Shaw’s face appear on the screen. In the background was the coppery brush of a pine forest floor. “How goes the undercover mission, Detective?” “Hey boss-man, you out on the town with these losers? Sorry to say, you ain’t gonna pick up any chicks hanging out with faggots.” “I’m married, Shaw. And watch your fucking language.” “I’m not gay,” Brick protested. “Won’t be long, New Meat, no one can resist Stevie’s seductive charms for long.” “Focus, Shaw, report.” “Alright, alright.” He pulled the camera back to show he was surrounded by trees. “Had to hide my phone way out here. No tech allowed at Camp Steamroller. Real Iron John shit.” “Any sign of the perp?” Carnitas asked. “Hey Stevie! Blocking with your face again? I thought we talked about this?” “Garrett…” “No man, no sign of that tatt, and since all the invitees to this retreat are required to walk around in these Tarzan loincloths, I got more than an eyeful of all the participants.” “Damn it,” Flint fumed. “Well get your ass back here then, and we’ll work on the other leads.” “Not so fast, boss, it hasn’t been a total loss. The tattoo shop confirmed they did the ‘pop’ tatt for a dude last name Stark, and that’s the name of the Head Hippy here, a longhair named Calvin Stark. He doesn’t have any tatts and he’s too old to be the perp, but he’s got two sons, neither of whom are here.” “Okay, can you get close to this honcho? Find out more?” “Unlikely. He leads the occasional meditation session, but otherwise keeps to a tightly controlled inner camp. But, I did find out one juicy bit of gossip about him. He’s a former Double-DBag, and he takes a special interest in converting DBags to the cause. So I was thinking…” As Shaw paused, all eyes at the table swung in Carnitas’ direction. “What the hell, guys? No way.” He flushed crimson. “It would completely be your choice, Steve. I’m not gonna order you,” said Flint. “And I don’t need to know anything about your personal life that you don’t want to share. God knows there’s enough oversharing in this group.” “I appreciate that, boss, but it’s still a no. Garrett joined Steamroller before the murder, he still makes the most sense to be undercover with them.” “That’s settled, then. Anything else to note, Shaw?” “Just this, fellas: This shit really works. You remember my head scissors, Hammy?” “Yes. And I don’t want to talk about it.” “Well watch this.” Shaw flipped the camera to show he had his bare muscular legs wrapped around a tree trunk, and had been suspending his ripped body horizontally during the whole conversation. “Used to do these static hanging crunches on my heavy bag, thought I’d try ‘em on the closest thing. I know it’s hard for you ladies to pull your eyes away from my abs, but check out the quads.” The muscles flexed into banded steel and the bark underneath was instantly pulverized. Shaw let out a rumbly growl and his quads hacked deeper, pale splinters erupting where the wood was displaced by harder muscle. In seconds Shaw’s thigh-grip had gnawed half the tree away. “Just the corewood left,” he grunted, “gonna lock my ankles now.” “Shaw,” Flint said curtly, “have you ever cut down a tree? You gotta be careful which way it falls—” KRAKKKKK! “That’s right tree-bitch, take that—OH SHIT—“ The camera tumbled to the dirt and went dead. Flint hung his head in disbelief. “I really hope it fell on his stupid head,” said Brick. “You can’t kill that dude. He’s like a cockroach,” said Hamm. Flint fumed. “What’s the first rule of undercover work? Don’t draw attention to yourself. Damnit.” “Please, boss,” Carnitas begged, his head throbbing, “can we drink now?” “Fine, I’ll leave you boys to it. I got a workout to finish.” *** Steve stumbled as he climbed the front steps of his walk-up apartment building. “Straight to bed, big guy,” Jonah Brick yelled from his Camaro before peeling off into the night. Steve got out his keys just as a PING sounded on his WhatsApp: <Tyler Hamm has renamed the group chat to: What’s a Fucking Polycule?> Hey studs, employment records from Tinker’s manager came in. Enjoy some bedtime reading. Steve opened the pdf and squinted, focussing on the hire dates. He nearly dropped the phone when he saw the name of the late Peter Tinker’s most recent co-worker. “THAT goddamn motherfucker?!” *** Carnitas barged in the door the moment it opened, the chain lock snapping, no match for his 450 lbs of bulk. “What the fuck, man! YOU!!” The surprised occupant, barefoot and clad in a loose t-shirt and sweats, backed away, hands up, as the huge detective advanced into the apartment, gun drawn. “Vinny fucking Crisco, you goddamn weasel. What bleeding-heart parole board let a shitstain like you back on the streets?” “You’re fucking nuts, Carnitas. I did my time. You got no cause to be busting in here.” “We’ll see about that. Back all the way up.” The small dark-haired man complied, with a calm backward stroll, all while his jet-black eyes burned with hatred. Carnitas’ gaze darted about the small bachelor space, confirming they were alone. There were some carpentry tools in one corner, and some newly installed drywall, but no guns or knives obvious. “Now a little bird told me,” he said, “that you’d gone and got yourself a job at a sports nutrition store. But I said to myself, that can’t be true. Pencil-necked Vinny Crisco? He wouldn’t know a sport, or a nutrient, if it bit him on his bony ass.” “What’s it to you, fatboy?” He gestured to the cop’s face. “You lose a fight, and go looking for the smallest ex-con you know to rough up?” “You always were a little shit, Vinny. Felt so good to put your ass away. But we’re gonna have a little talk.” “Felt good did it? Not as good as you hoped, though right? I didn’t give up my brothers, so all you got was me. That still stick in your craw, birdbrain? Your big mob case, years of work, and all you bagged was a low level thug? A big flop like that, could rattle a guy, make him insecure.” “Shut up, asshole.” “Make up your mind, dumbass. Should I talk or shut up? I really do got you rattled, huh? Why else would you need a gun for this little chat? You’re three times my size, bro.” Carnitas stomach turned as his confidence faltered. He’d underestimated Vinny Crisco once before, and he had an instinct that he was repeating himself. He was alone, no back up, no warrant, drunk and with a probable concussion, facing a cunning ex-mob enforcer. He couldn’t be the murderer, his complexion was too dark and he was whippet-lean. But something was very wrong. Steve felt in his bones that if he made a single mistake, Vinny would get the upper hand. “Fuck you, dirtbag. Raise those hands higher.” Crisco smirked, but complied, and the motion of his arms raised the hem of his t-shirt exposing ripped lower abs, a dark treasure trail and the top of a hairy bush as thick as a Sicilian olive grove. Too late, Carnitas realized he’d stared a beat too long. When he looked up again, a claw hammer flung from across the room bashed him between the eyes. He dropped to the floor like a stone, holding his battered face in agony. When he opened his watering eyes he registered the frightful image of Crisco looking down on him with an evil sneer. “Fuck me? You dumb bitch, I got a much better idea.” Vinny brandished a muscular bare foot like it was a maul and swung it in a baleful arc, stomping Steve’s lights out. … … … “PSST. FAGGOT. WAKE UP.” Detective Carnitas opened his eyes to find the murderer’s face staring back at him. The details of the face were obscured by Peter Tinker’s blood and lumps of gore, except for a brilliant white sadistic grin of even teeth with wolfish canines. His eager pale blue eyes pinned Steve’s soul in place like a butterfly. “YOU’RE GETTING CLOSER, FAGGOT, MAYBE I’LL SEE YOU SOON.” One side of his face was pressed flush against a hardwood floor. Little streaks of red formed there as his head rocked back and forth in a repetitive motion. “BUT YOU SHOULD WAKE UP NOW, FAGGOT. YOU’RE BEING RAPED. YOU DON’T WANT TO MISS THAT. HUH-HUH-HUH.” The face faded away, replaced by Carnitas’ own battered visage. He lay prone and gagged on the floor staring sideways at himself in the bottom of a cheap dressing mirror propped against the wall. He took an inventory of his wounds. Busted nose. Black eye. Lacerated, bleeding brow. Torn upper lip and broken front teeth. A catalog of failures. But each was easier to contemplate than what was happening down below, beyond the view of the mirror, as Vinny Crisco jackhammered his ass to smithereens. Everything down there was agony, from the popped sphincters in his destroyed hole, to his pride-and-joy boulder glutes, bashed into gravel against harder muscle and bone, to his cock and balls, flattened under his own dead weight. Crisco gasped and groaned as he came like a geyser, his mallet-like fists pounding the cop’s thick traps flat like carpaccio. His rectum ballooned under the pressure of the massive load exploding out of the thug’s Piledriver-swollen cock, magnifying the intense pain of the brutal fucking. Vinny stood once his cum-fits had subsided, his softening cock shlooping out of the cavernous gape, and with a sharp kick to his side, flipped the detective onto his back. The Mafioso cackled with glee when he saw the mess on the floor. His pinpoint accurate battering of the cop’s prostate had forced blood-tinged cum from Steve’s perfidious dick. “Man, Carnitas, I knew you were a huge fag, but pink spunk? That's next level.” He straddled the cop’s limp body with lean legs as strong as girders, and reached down to pull out the gag, a gym sock so dirty it was nearly black. “Don’t need this, huh? I mean, it’s not like an enormous badass muscle-cop would scream for help like a little bitch, right?” Carnitas focussed his eyesight as a wave of nausea from his tortured bowel ebbed. The body that loomed over him was no Colossus. Crisco had the same bird-like bone structure he’d always had, and plainly weighed no more than 150 lbs. But that body had been honed on a Steamroller whetstone til it was keen as a dagger. Muscles braided like steel wire criss-crossed his torso and arms. His abs were so crisp they looked beveled like cut diamonds. And that sadistic cock. As Steve felt his bruised muscles swell tight, skin stretching from the effects of the Piledriver-laced splooge, Crisco’s penis re-inflated in sync, ‘til it was thicker than both of the thug’s lean forearms put together. “Ready for round two, faggot?” “Help!! He’s going to kill me!!” Steve bawled as Vinny compressed his bloated calves in his claw-like hands, stretch marks zigzagging the flesh as he raised his legs. The ropey muscles of his corded arms hauled up the massive shanks of meat with ease, like he had pulleys spinning in his joints. He lined his softball-sized cockhead up with Steve’s still-spasming gape, and sniggered at the cop’s pathetic mewling. “Man, he said this drug was the shit, but I didn’t believe him.” “Who’s… ‘he’?” “He also said Tinker-Toy popped like a balloon. Didn’t believe that either ‘til I saw the vid.” “WHO’S ‘HE’?!” Carnitas screamed. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he laughed. “Never thought I’d christen my new rape-pad with man-pussy, but your faggy high-pitched cries should test the soundproofing just as well as a bitch’s. Squeal as loud as you want, pig, this place is airtight.” “Not if you leave the door open.” Jonah Brick’s meaty hand clapped around the rapist’s neck. His thick fingers tightened around his throat like a hangman’s noose as he raised Crisco in the air, his feet kicking helplessly. “You got two seconds to give me a name,” Brick growled. He looked down on Steve’s swollen, broken form. “And I don’t even care if you answer.” “SSSSSSSSSSSSSStark—“ Vinny gasped, the gurgled word cut off abruptly by Brick shattering his larynx with his fingertips. The belly of his forearm bulged with crushing strength as, red-faced with rage, he macerated tissue and ground vertebrae to dust. Digging his thumbnail into the pulped flesh at the base of the rapist’s skull, Jonah flicked, popping Vinny Crisco’s head off his neck like a bottlecap. … Steve’s leaden limbs collapsed the moment he crossed the threshold of his apartment. From the floor, he kicked the door shut with his foot. “Made it,” he mumbled, as if Brick could hear him. “You gotta leave now, Steve, under your own steam,” his partner had urged as he’d cut the zip tie bonds at his wrists. “I gotta take out the trash.” Somehow Steve had managed to pull his clothes onto his ravaged body and stand while Brick rolled Crisco’s body up in a Persian rug. As he’d turned for the door, Brick had grabbed his arm. “Hey. Remember one thing. This was not your fault.” “Bullshit,” Steve said now as he pressed himself up onto his elbows. Slowly, he dragged his beaten carcass toward the bathroom. Pulling himself to his feet, he lurched in, avoiding his bloody reflection in the mirror. He snatched up a small leather case. With a great, wracking sob, he turned it inside out, dumping his vials of athenabol into the toilet bowl. He sat heavily on the lid as the toilet flushed, and pulled out his phone, opening Garrett Shaw’s contact. Camp Steamroller, he texted, I’m in. To be continued…
    22 points
  18. This is a fictional story. Any semblance to any person, thing or concept in the particular multiverse in which you live may not correspond to the universe of this story or may be purely coincidental. PART ONE “So did you measure it to make sure it’s as big as he claims?” asked Dr. Piro. “Yes, sir. And it’s as long and wide as he said it was,” answered Simon, his lab assistant. “And he agreed to do it for the price?” “Yes. He said that he felt erotic just thinking about it. He said it was the chance of a lifetime to use his great prowess to take down a superhero,” replied Simon. Rubbing his hands together, Dr. Piro said, “Now we are ready.” The 6 -foot three, 245 pound, brown haired alien with bulging muscles in his skintight suit known as Powerman had long been a thorn in the side of right wing, libertarian, coke-addict billionaire Lonnie Mucus. “Too much all-American, goody-two shoes for my taste,” he was quoted as saying to a magazine about Powerman. When Powerman offered to take a new communications satellite into Space for the US Government to replace an old one that had suddenly failed, Mucus saw a superhero that was now competing with his new Space launching satellite business that the American government had become dependent on. He decided Powerman had to go. So Mucus hired Dr. Piro, a scrawny but brilliant scientist, to do whatever it takes to disable Powerman as a threat to his own values and businesses. “Kill him if you must, but if you can preserve him for lab study, that would be even better,” he told the scientist. With almost unlimited funding, Dr. Piro began his task but after five years of hard work, the scientist had been unable to discover a way to kill or disable the superhero. During that time, Powerman had become more outspoken in terms of promoting the values of truth, justice, and community and against the “freedom to say and do whatever you want” attitude of the billionaire, anti-regulation, laissez faire libertarian philosophy of the billionaire further angering him. Powerman received a secret message from an FBI agent, who was secretly on the payroll of Mucus, that an informant in the campaign of the presidential candidate that Mucus was helping to bankroll, was willing to pass on damaging information about the candidate and Mucus. But he would do it only if Powerman met him secretly and alone at a powerplant, which just happened to be owned by Mucus. Powerman agreed to meet the informant at the powerplant and flew there for the meeting. Powerman scanned the industrial building on the plant site from the sky and saw a large room with a lot of electrical equipment and then an adjacent room which contained four burly men and a smaller man. “Humm,” thought Powerman, “everything looks safe and nothing seems unusual for a pwoerplant.” Following the instructions he was given, Powerman landed outside the front entrance of the building and entered through large metal door. Once inside the main, well-lit room, he saw large disks of what looked like heat lamps all over the walls and ceiling of the room. He stepped deeper into the room and shouted, “Hello, I am here.” Suddenly, he heard a loud humming noise. Then the lights lighting the room went out and it was dark. Unbeknowst to Powerman, at that same moment there was blackout in the city surrounding the powerplant and for about 5 seconds all the energy created by the plant was directed into those disks that surrounded Powerman. The light created by that energy filled the room bathing Powerman with it. “Uggh,” cried the super strong hero. Never before had he felt so weak and drained. He suddenly face-planted onto the floor unconscious. Watching the entire event through security cameras from the adjacent room, Dr. Piro and the four muscular men then entered the main room. Looking at the prostrate, white-costumed superhero with his bubble butt protruding into the air, he said, “It worked just as predicted. Now boys, carry our friend down the stairs to the laboratory underneath this building. His transformation has just begun!” PART TWO Dr. Piro’s mobile rang. It was Mucus. “How is it going, my good doctor?” “Just as I planned, sir. Powerman is currently unconscious and we are set up to start the process," Dr. Piro responded. “Good. Good. I like your plan. Humiliation and captivity are even better than death.” “Well, if all goes as planned, you’ll have a new breed of bodyguards and henchmen at your service.” “There is no if, good doctor. There is no fail,” retorted Mucus. “You had better make this happen.” Mucus then hung up. Powerman was stretched out on his stomach spread eagle in some device that looked something like a flat operating chair used for colonoscopies. His legs were separated, each one strapped in with metal bands. His thick bulbous ass pointing slightly up with his torso slightly raised making a slight arch in his muscular back. Each powerful arm was flared out from his body and slightly bent at the elbow while being held on place by metal bands. His head was secured inside a metal cage attached to the device but his face was open and visible but the head harness permitted only his mouth to move. The device hinged at his hips and torso permitting it to move if he were to hip thrust or arch his back further. The arms did not permit movement except to move slightly forward with this torso and the leg braces also permitted some abduction but not much. His red and white suit remained intact except it had been stripped off his back and his ass leaving him naked there and revealing a back of tan rippled muscles like waves on a sea. Slowly Powerman began to return to full consciousness. Groggy, he began to mumble, ”Where, what, how.” “Well, my favorite alien is beginning to wake up and join our party, Simon,” mocked Dr. Piro to his assistant. Powerman tried to raise his head but the metal straps held it down. His muscles swelled as he struggled to free both his arms and legs but the device held him firmly. He felt so tired and exhausted. He could see his super strength was gone. He decided he needed the stall Dr. Piro and recover from whatever he did to him. “Simon, let’s make our guest more comfortable so we can talk. Raise the chair.” Simon pressed several buttons on a wireless controller. The device holding our superhero raised Powerman higher from the floor and tiled his body vertically so now he was face to face with his captor. PART THREE Powerman was now eye to eye with the old, short, bald, eyeglass-wearing doctor and his assistant, the young, brown-haired bespectacled Simon. “I suppose my caped spandex hero is wondering how you got in his predicament. Well, I am going to tell you my soon to be neutered muscleman. It goes to my own ingenuity and brilliance and that of humankind in general over your alien race. You see, Powerman, it seems you would occasionally connect your computers in your mountain liar to the satellite Internet network owned by my employer, Mr. Mucus. Yes, your Internet defenses were very strong and my Russian hacking friends were frustrated after trying to penetrate them. But with some additional help from Chinese hackers and AI we were finally able to get in. From there we were able to download the history of your society and all the biological information about your alien race. Although written in your alien language, our AI was able to decipher it in less than three months.” Powerman listened carefully to Dr. Piro. He wondered if he could have really penetrated his systems. How then did he manage to neutralize his superpowers? He then noticed he was feeling less tired and the grogginess of his mind had cleared. “And what an interesting history and biology it is!” continued the scrawny doctor. “I learned your society is divided into three castes—the female caste whose primary purpose is reproduction, a eunuch working class whose role is to serve as workers for the entire society and finally the super powerful male warrior class, of which you are a prime specimen! The females seem to be 300-400 pound, essentially immobile creatures who have a lust for sex constantly except during the 13-month period of pregnancy. So they are basically sex slaves cared for by the eunuchs. Meanwhile the warrior class men rule your society where everyone serves them and they maintain the harmony and order. Might not seem all that interesting at first given human history but then I learned that all members of your race are genetically hermaphrodites! Apparently whether a female gives birth to another female, a eunuch or a warrior is determined by what foods are given the female during her pregnancy. By controlling the nutrition of the captive pregnant females, the warriors control what type of person is born based on the warrior class’ needs.” Now Powerman was getting worried. He realized that Dr. Piro had been successful in obtaining information from his liar. But with each passing minute he was feeling less and less exhausted. Perhaps his superpowers were returning, and he would eventually be able to break free. He needed to stall whatever Dr. Piro planned next. “But….” interrupted Powerman. “Shut up! No interruptions!” shouted the doctor and he slapped Powerman across his face. Powerman winced in pain with the blow and decided it was best to keep quiet for now. Simon looked pained seeing Powerman slapped. He admired the superhero’s chiseled jaw and straight narrow nose. He had a handsome face as well as a well-proportioned muscled body. The epitome of human maleness in his view. Now trapped in the clutches of his ugly old boss. He found Powerman’s helpless predicament sad but yet wildly erotic and exhilarating at the same time. His member stirred. “Now where was I?” Dr. Piro queried. “Oh yes. While your warrior class with their superpowers kept your planet peaceful once in a while a warrior or two would rebel and would need to be neutralized. But given those superpowers that was not easy to do. Fortunately, it appears that there is a biological failsafe mechanism built right into your genetics.” To be continued
    20 points
  19. CHAPTER 2 Timmy’s eyes were indiscreetly glued to the handsome massively muscular bodybuilder lifting at his condo’s gym. When Biff started another set, Timmy almost bumped into a fellow gym-goer as he stared with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. The stud had to be in the upper 200’s in weight, Timmy thought. His beautiful muscular size and extraordinarily ripped condition excited him more than he had ever felt for anyone in his life. He adjusted his quickly tenting dick, and before he embarrassed himself, he slunk to the locker room to change. He remembered the athletic muscular bullies from high school and what they would do to him when he was caught staring at them. Timmy knew that the prudent move to make, when he went back into the gym, was to get his head out of this muscle-fueled daze and try fighting his enormous attraction to Biff. It took exactly one second and he was back to his pulse racing at the thought of just seeing more of the bodybuilder again. It was impossible to fight, and he just enjoyed it way too much. As he came back in and headed for the treadmills, he saw that Biff was at the water fountain, bent over and slurping water into his god-like physique. Timmy’s daze was of course now back, and, though he was not at all thirsty, he walked up to be next in line, pretending that he needed a drink as well. Now close-up, with each ripple of muscle that Timmy witnessed, the stud was just oozing sex and power. His back muscles flexed in the smallest of actions, and his triceps, so lean and bulgy with beautifully shaped horseshoes/croissants, danced to Timmy’s feasting eyes. And Biff’s glutes were easily seen dimpling through the tight shorts that he wore. There was absolutely no evidence of any body fat anywhere on Biff’s physique. Being so close to such muscle-perfection, there was no way Timmy’s trance was going away anytime soon. This led his obsession to fantasizing about touching the exquisite handsome bodybuilder and worshiping every inch of his physique. Biff would flex for him, and then Timmy would kiss and lick each bulging muscle. With Biff taking so long at his drinking, it then allowed the muscle-worshiper to take his fantasy to an even higher level, where he was then sucking the gorgeous bodybuilder’s big dick. Timmy’s penis was again fully erect and leaking and it very obviously now tenting his pants with a wet spot. He needed to put his hands nonchalantly over his crotch to hide it. And all of this occurred in just about a minute after getting in line! Biff finally finished drinking and stood up to his full height. Timmy felt short as he looked straight into Biff’s defined striated delts. He realized that he had under-estimated the bodybuilder’s size earlier, and that the stud had to be closer to a height of maybe 6’5”. Biff then turned around with water dripping off his succulent lips and falling onto his muscle-stretched very tight shirt, wetting his sensuously bulging solid pectorals. The muscle god looked down at Timmy, and, seeing the daze that he was in, quickly sized up the handsome skinny older guy as a very seriously-obsessed muscle-admirer. Biff then casually and seductively danced his pecs just a little for the awestruck Timmy as he enjoyed the reaction that he knew he was responsible for. He saw his admirer had even trouble breathing, as he was so sexually charged. Timmy had turned red and froze, partly in reactive fear remembering back to his school experiences. But the bodybuilder’s thoughts were correct, it was caused mostly by Timmy’s lust for his muscle, and Biff was now so close to him. As Biff sexily touched his now wet pectorals with his gym-trained hand, he said in a deep voice looking down at Timmy, “Sorry I took so long. It’s all yours now, little boy.” Timmy still couldn’t respond, and Biff, amused at his handsome admirer’s extreme reaction to him, then strutted back to his bench to continue his lifting. When Timmy finally came down to earth, he realized how enormously thrilled he was that Biff had even actually talked to him! “And he called me his ‘little boy,”’ Timmy thought. “Oh my god, what an amazing encounter with the new Mr. America. And he’s so tall and handsome also.” Timmy stumbled to the water fountain and feigned drinking for a little while, then quickly got to a place with the best view. And he indeed found one on a treadmill facing his heartthrob. Timmy watched Biff’s flexing muscles as he lifted tremendous pounds, rep after rep with dozens of sets. He watched as Biff’s muscles grew more massive and ripped with his pump. His biceps peaked like two Mount Everests before then relaxing each time. Timmy loved the beautiful split in each bicep, and knew they’d tape easily in the mid-twenties. He would have paid the stud just to tape them for him. At one point, when Timmy was furtively glancing at Biff, the muscle stud caught him. Timmy quickly looked away red-faced and then pretended to text someone on his phone. He was torn between wanting to be coy and not get caught, but then he would miss out on the muscle-show, versus wanting to eye-fuck this ultimate muscle-fantasy as much as he could for future wanks. Each flex from Biff would be worth one more masturbatory ejaculation for Timmy in the future. After a while, a small crowd had started to gather around the bodybuilder as he put more weight on the bar and the loud clanking and slamming of the weights drew much attention. Timmy was now able to full-time watch too, knowing that it was now safe to be with all these other people there as well. When else could he get the chance to see someone THAT spectacularly muscular and so close up? Timmy got off his treadmill and tried to count how much weight Biff had on the bar, but he kept losing track because there were so many plates going up and down. With always perfect form and controlled muscle movement, the bodybuilder knelt and bent over, then cranked out his deadlifts, the weight lowering, before then rising back up. The bar bent dramatically with the enormous pounds of weights loaded on it, but Biff continued lifting and made it look relatively light. This went on for quite a while more as the reps flew by, until the Biff reached still another failure and he finally stopped. Timmy’s face showed some disappointment when he assumed that the muscle-show was now over. But, after all, he had viewed the gorgeous man for almost two hours already. Some of the other gym bros approached the muscleman, slapping his knotted-with-bulging-muscle back. Timmy would have loved doing that too, using it as the excuse to actually touch Biff. He laughed to himself as he pictured slapping Biff on his huge striated deltoid and saying, “good job dude.” But of course, he could never do anything even remotely like that, mostly since he knew Biff would see right through him and know what his true motives were exactly. And, Timmy also knew that he had a raging hardon and his shorts were soaked with pre again and he would never be able to camouflage it if he was right in front of Biff. Watching the insane display of strength and huge sliced and carved muscle show was amazing while it lasted, and he decided to go upstairs and maybe do some sit-ups. Suddenly, even from upstairs, he again heard grunting and weights slamming around. All he could think of was what he was missing as he envisioned the handsome bodybuilder’s flexing muscles shifting and sliding so sensuously downstairs. But he knew it was best to give it a rest, and after a while, and not hearing Biff anymore, Timmy figured that the bodybuilder was now finally finished and was probably gone. So, he headed downstairs to leave. But, wouldn’t you know, as he came down the stairs, he saw that Biff had repositioned himself right there facing Timmy, doing seated machine rows with the weight maxed out. It was almost as though Biff knew where his admirer was before, and this ensured Timmy would see him when he came back down. Timmy stared at Biff and thought his tank was almost bursting from his muscular development. Also, curious to Timmy, was that the bodybuilder couldn’t be getting much benefit from this rowing machine. Though there were tremendous weights there, Biff was doing the exercise so fast and too easily. As he stared, Timmy knew for sure that he had never wanted anyone more in his life. Not even close to this. The big guy caught him again and stared right back. When it became a lingering friendly handsome smile, Timmy’s heart stopped. Then the sexy muscle-guy winked at him. Shocked at what had just occurred and feeling uncomfortable about not knowing what to do or say in response, Timmy hurried to the lockers and then took the elevator back up to his apartment.
    17 points
  20. Andrew was talked into going to what some of his personal friends have said is a very unusual restaurant. His friends, who shall remain nameless for the time being, told him how amazingly great the food was, and that the service from the staff was keen on keeping them satisfied. What they didn’t know though was that the restaurant was picking and choosing certain patrons to try and experiment with their secret recipes and experimentations. After spending a few minutes at the bar in the restaurant, he and his good friend Terrence chatted with the hunky bartender about random goings on in the world. They both remarked at how incredibly well-built and friendly all the guys there are, and how they don’t seem to care how skinny both himself and his brownish-skinned friend are. Eventually, Andrew notices that most of the people that were dining in the restaurant have left. Terrence asks the bartender if they need to leave as well, but they are both reassured that things are going as planned, which seems a bit odd to both young friends. Terrence is then approached by a few members of the restaurant staff and is asked a couple of questions. It appears that they are wanting him to try out some of the new recipes that they are developing for additions to their menu. Andrew admits that he is a bit jealous that they went to his friend first, but one of the buff staff members smiles and quickly invites him to come along as well. The two skinny men look at each other and agree to the proposition and are ushered into the back of the restaurant. They are surprised to see that there is another table set up for people to sit at and eat. The three men that are with them pulls the two chairs out for them to sit in, as well as one for one of the staff members. He sits directly left from where Terrence is sitting, while Andrew sits to his African American friends right. The man, who clearly spends a great deal of time in the gym, is well tanned and is wearing a pair of grey slacks and a white shirt underneath his restaurant attire, looks as if he could burst free from his clothing at any given moment. His giant arms leave nothing to the imagination as their huge veins can be seen beneath the fabric of his shirt. He has a thick reddish beard and is incredibly handsome. He tells them both to sit down so he can start going over the itinerary for the evening. “Hello my friends. Well, I hope we can be friends. My name is Bryson Chambliss. I will be your host tonight. You have both been selected to taste a few of the new recipes that we are testing out for our menu that may or may not be added in the future. I hope you are both hungry.” Both young men shake their heads yes in unison and mumble under their breaths about how they really like Bryson’s British accent. “That is good to hear. The chefs here at Myostatin Grill wanted to catch you both before you ordered something already on the menu.” The man signals for the other two beefcakes to leave the room. Andrew and Terrence look at each other again with a puzzled look on their faces. Andrew starts asking questions. “So, what exactly are we taste testing? Is this something that we should be concerned about, health wise? I don’t want to end up in the hospital after this.” Bryson lets out a low grunt. “I don’t think you will have anything to worry about, what is your name mate?” “Andrew Mason.” “Ahh Andrew. Is it okay if I can call you Drew? It suits you much better.” “I suppose that is alright.” “Perfect!” The two friends are calmed down by his laid-back attitude and they both clearly find him very attractive. The man hasn’t taken his eyes off Terrence this whole time except to address Andrew with his questions. “And what is your name, mate?” Bryson stares into Terrence’s eyes and smiles. “Umm...Terrence Garrett.” “Nice to meet you, Terrence. What is a nickname that I can call you by?” The lanky 5’7 black 23-year-old looks at him in confusion. “Uh...I don’t know. My friends call me Deron.” “OH! I really like that name mate. I will call you that from now on. My name is Bryson. The taste testing will begin soon enough for you both.” After a few more minutes of random chatter between the two young men, two members of the kitchen staff bring out two trays with appetizers on them. The men are asked what they would like to try from the trays, and both agree that they would be interested in the chicken wings. Bryson smiles at his staff and shakes his head yes, before saying to the two unsuspecting guinea pigs, “I think you will both like these quite a bit.” The wings are put on small plates and put in front of them. They are asked what they would prefer to drink and are given water for Andrew and Terrence asks for an energy drink, which gets a rather muted response from the British server. The young black man then decides that he will get a water as well. Bryson starts talking again, as the kitchen staff return to the back once again. “I don’t know how you both like your wings, but I think you will both notice a slight difference in the taste. Eating proteins can sometimes lead to some very interesting sensations after a few minutes of digestion. This is why we need you to be honest with your assessments of the recipes that we use here.” Before we move forward with the story, I want to point out that Andrew is wearing a long-sleeved white polo shirt, blue jeans, black belt, a pair of boxers, black socks, and a pair of Nikes. Terrence is wearing a loose blue button-up shirt, black jeans, black belt, white socks, no underwear, and a pair of blue Converses. Andrew and Terrence are also both clean-shaven. Bryson watches in earnest as the two men take a few bites of the wings before putting them down on the plates. Andrew looks a bit disgusted, while Terrence looks relatively satisfied. The buff restauranteur grins as he sees the 23-year-old’s face light up. Andrew tries to hide the fact that he hates how they taste. “It is okay if you find it disgusting Drew. Their taste isn’t for everyone.” He can see that Terrence wants to eat more of the wings. “Go for it, Deron. Feel free to get more of them if you wish.” Andrew watches as his friend continues to eat more of the wings and shakes his head. Bryson is turning his full attention to what the African American is doing. “It seems that the recipe is to your liking, mate?” “Mm, oh very much, bro. They taste really good. They have a nice seasoning on them, of course I have always liked spicy food.” “That is great to hear, Deron. Drew, would you like a free meal on the house from Myostatin Grill? We can get anything for you.” Andrew can see that he is no longer going to be treated the same way as his friend and it is starting to annoy him. “Now hold on a minute. I thought that we were both going to do this. I don’t like the taste of the wings; can I have so other appetizer maybe?” Bryson turns to give him a wink. “Well, a part of the process is to see whether you can get past the first course of the meal. You said that you didn’t like the taste of the wings we provided you. The rest of the dinner will likely not change the way that you feel about the taste of the food. Each of us responds to the recipe in different ways. We are willing to provide you with a meal that you would probably like.” Andrew decides that maybe he should go ahead and accept the free meal, but he also feels like Terrence may be in some kind of danger without him there with him. “Terrence, are you sure that you want to continue with this? I am not sure what is going to happen without me being here with you.” The smiling young black man turns to him and says, “I will be fine Andrew. In fact, I have this overwhelming hunger to keep going. I feel almost euphoric.” His 24-year-old white buddy sighs and says, “Alright Bryson, where do I go now?” The buff man pushes a button as one of his staff members comes in and escorts Andrew out to the main atrium where he will be provided his food. Bryson goes back to focusing his energy on the black man. “Are you starting to feel something happening to you, Deron? Like maybe your body is tingly or perhaps your muscles are getting a bit sore, mate?” Terrence stares back at him and can feel his cock starting to ache. He lightly moans as leathery stretching noises start emanating from every muscle fiber in his body. He is now looking down and notices his forearms and biceps are slowly expanding as the veins surface and swell ever so slowly beneath his bronzed skin. His nonexistent pecs now have contours and are slightly visible beneath his shirt. He can feel his quads starting to fill in the space inside his jeans. His cock, nicely thick and girthy, has grown an additional inch as it stretches down his left leg. He feels it as it brushes against the denim, his veiny sheath now clearly visible beneath the fabric. Bryson reaches down underneath the table to pet it, grunting as it leaves a wet spot on Terrence’s jeans. The young black man jumps slightly but is also lightly moaning. He is no longer the skinny 23-year-old that entered the restaurant. His face is now more defined and has grown a bit of a beard as well. His clothes fit better also. The buff man sitting beside him has started to massage his left arm. “Feels good, doesn’t it Deron? I know it does. The same thing happened to all of us in the restaurant. We sort of stumbled upon the recipe by accident. Of course, this is not meant for the public because that would be an absolute catastrophe. It is a shame that your friend didn’t like the recipe, but that just means that we can have a bit more fun without him here.” Bryson has taken his host jacket off and is now wearing just his white shirt and slacks. His outfit does very little to contain the mass beneath it. He flexes his huge pythons, which are straining the hell out of the sleeves of his shirt, as they ride the edge of his bloated shoulders. His lower body looks like it is painted to his pants and his cock is now clearly visible. He is getting turned on clearly. “I imagine you are still hungry, mate. Let’s just move on to the main course.” The kitchen staff brings him a dish that makes his eyes light up. “Wow, it is a brisket. Oh, and it looks amazing. I can’t wait to eat it. It smells incredible too.” “I definitely think you will enjoy it, Deron.” After savoring it for the next several minutes, the athletic African American leans back in his chair and sighs as it permeates his insides and his senses. Bryson motions for the staff to take his plate away as he stands up to get behind him and begins to rub on his shoulders. “I know that had to be even better than the wings, right mate? I am glad that you approve of the brisket because things are about to get very interesting.” Bryson makes eye contact with Terrance again and tells him to get up from the table. He leads him over to a sitting area with a big couch and a very unusual looking chair. He tries to get the young man to sit in the chair, but he is stumbling a bit. The Brit attempts to get him to focus again. “I have a very unusual question to ask you Deron. Is there a bodybuilder that you have ever wanted to look like? Or maybe you have wanted to meet one to have some fun with?” “Huh? Uh, I have never thought about any of that before. Why are you asking me these questions? Oh wait...I know why you are. I am turning into one, aren’t I?” Terrence bolts for the door that himself and Andrew entered in the very beginning. Bryson tries to keep up, but he is not as small and agile and is attempting to keep pace. The young black man’s buddy can hear him calling out his name and runs over to where he is. They both manage to get away from Bryson and his crew for the time being by finding an empty office and locking the door behind them. “I knew that there was something wrong with this entire scenario Terrence.” The athletic 23-year-old African American is sweating profusely and is breathing heavily but seems really happy at the same time. “No no bro... He has done something great for me. He was wanting to keep you from enjoying the experience and was going to stick me in some chair to hold me down so that he could mess with me, I think.” Terrence can feel his body getting ready to grow again. Andrew wonders if he is okay. “Are you sure you are alright dude? Hmm...I just noticed that you have a beard and... oh you have bigger muscles.” They can hear someone trying to get into the room and there are voices saying “Deron” and “Terrence” behind the door. The two young men open the one window in the office and climb through it. Surprisingly, there is no one on the other side. When they reach the ground below them, Andrew is stopped by his friend. They are now outside of the building. “BRO! I am about to grow again. Fuck, I think I am going to get REALLY BIG!” Andrew watches in amazement as he sees Terrence swelling in front of him. His forearms and biceps start ripping through his sleeves revealing his dense expanding vascular bronze cannons. “OH YEAH DREW! It feels so good. I can feel myself getting more powerful with every second that passes.” The growing hulk’s quads are now ripping out of his jeans, making him moan in delight as his huge brownish cock hangs out the left side of one of the openings and starts dripping precum all over his leg. His shoes are no match for his growing feet as his socks rip like paper. “Oh my god Terrence, you are going to be so fucking...HOT!” “Drew...I want you so fucking bad. I want to be the one to turn you into a beast like me. MMM...my back is getting so fucking massive.” The black hulk grunts as his delts and lats start to tear through the back of his shirt. He can feel his pecs stretching the buttons on his shirt to their limits as his ass blasts through the back of his jeans. He is now breathing down Andrew’s face as he makes his friend feel him as he grows. “Feel how huge I am Drew. Big, mother fucking dense black muscle. I had no idea that I needed this so much. And I need you too.” Andrew hears several tearing sounds coming from Terrence’s pants as the beast’s huge cock rips itself free from them and is rubbing up against his chest. The black beauty’s pecs are now blasting the buttons off his shirt as they are revealed. Huge, heavy, incredibly vascular like the rest of his body is. He tears his shirt off and moans as he continues to feel himself swelling. His friend is now lusting over him as he stares in awe at his black friend’s huge frame and is feeling all his muscles. “I can’t concentrate Terrence; you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life. I mean...” The hulk grunts as he lifts him up and locks his lips on Andrew’s. They kiss for quite a while, losing track of whether they are still being hunted by Bryson and his crew. Terrence holds him tightly against him, flexing his huge 22” guns and grimaces as he flexes his pelvic floor, ripping the last remaining fabric away from his body as his belt splits in half and his jeans fall to the ground. They finally stop kissing. “Mm... I admit I have wanted to embrace you for months Drew. I wasn’t about to let some random guy I don’t know take this away from me. I mean...he is hot, but he isn’t you.” Andrew is petting Terrence’s huge pecs making him sigh in pleasure as he is put back down on the ground. The hulk’s huge 11-inch cock bounces in anticipation of being milked as it starts to be stroked by the black beauty. “Ahh...I am so fucking hot for you bro. I want to drown you in my boys and watch you become like me. I don’t even fucking care if we are found at this point because this is between the two of us now.” Andrew is now down on his knees and is caressing Terrence’s bloated quads, running his hands down between each split and kisses both, making his partner sigh deeply. He eventually makes him stop stroking his cock so he can have a go at it. “Let me make this beautiful muscle spit on me dude. I have wanted to...mmm...” He slowly starts to slide his friend’s huge cock down his throat and moves back and forth in very slow movements. Terrence tries not to yell in pleasure as he bucks his hips and squeezes his ass. Andrew smiles as he looks up into the beast’s eyes. He moans tasting its sweet nectar as it flows into his gut. He pulls it out as several strands of precum drape from his lips to its cockhead. “Oh, fuck dude, we are meant to be. I can take this beast and I want your cum.” Terrence quickly shoves his cock back inside Andrew’s mouth and hastens his thrusts. His moans are getting louder and deeper as he feels his massive load starting to flow into his cock. Andrew looks up into his eyes again with lust as the beast sighs dumping his thick protein into his partner’s body. “OH...FUCK BRO... I had no idea that you could take my beast so easily.” Andrew gags a few times as a little bit of his partners cum drips off his chin and onto his polo. He stops sucking to let it continue to fill him. He is now closing his eyes and moaning softly. Terrence is wondering what is going through his head. He opens them when his partner asks him a question. “You okay Drew?” He pulls his cock out of his partner’s mouth so he can speak. “Oh, I am fine dude. I can already feel something happening inside me. You were right when you thought that your ‘protein’ was enough to grow me. I never got the chance to eat anything in there because you ate your food so fast. I am really happy I waited because...whew...it feels like it is going to start at any moment.” The black hulk helps him up to his feet as he braces himself for what is about to happen. Terrence rubs his back slowly and watches as Andrew’s face begins to grow stubble. He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock through his boxers to let it hang freely. He can hear his muscles making stretching noises as he rubs his chest. “Ah I can feel the hormones pumping through my brain dude. Your cum is so powerful.” “You better believe it bro. I am anxious to see you get huge like me.” Terrence now has one of his hands on Andrew’s cock as it swells in his grip. He grunts as he sees his white friend’s lower half starting to stretch his jeans. The growing beast lets out a few manly yelps as he feels his pecs expanding under his hands. His feet have now started to rip through his Nikes as his socks tear in half. He lustfully stares into the black beast’s eyes and moans. “You are turning me into this gorgeous massive beast Terrence. I love it so much.” The black hulk is now stroking his partner’s huge 10-inch cock as it starts to leak all over his huge hand. His other hand is squeezing Andrew’s swelling right bicep as it slowly starts to rip through the sleeve. He can hear the growing beast grunt as his mammoth quads burst through his jeans and keep expanding. His traps are now tearing seams along his neckline. “FUCK YES! RRAARRHH! Oh, I want to just tear everything off, but watching myself leave my puny me behind is too exciting.” Both beasts moan loudly as they watch Andrew’s pecs start to rip out of the front of his polo. The sound of the fabric giving way sends them both over the edge as they blast cum in two different directions. Two huge heaving golden-haired mounds of power emerge ready to be admired. His thick and blocky six pack is also in full view. “AHH YEAH! What an absolute rush. I didn’t think I was going to cum like that, but the feeling of just hulking out was too much.” “Yeah bro! I was incredibly turned on myself. We crossed streams.” Andrew rips the rest of his polo shirt off to start flexing his gargantuan 21” guns and to show off his expanding back. His jeans are now falling apart as his glutes rip completely out and his belt splits in half the same way Terrence’s did. He goes ahead and destroys the rest of his pants and boxers and tosses them to the side. The two beasts embrace as they start to get more acquainted with each other’s hulking muscles. In the midst of their transformations, the two hulks had no idea that they were being watched by the others. Bryson had witnessed the entire sequence from both men and didn’t want to interrupt. He had his own cock out and was blasting cum multiple times from inside the office they were in. Other members of his crew were feeling themselves up as well. The buff Brit starts making loud grunting noises from inside the window to get their attention, which works for a few seconds. They stop focusing on each other to turn to look up. “Hello mates, I would like to congratulate you both on joining us here at the Myostatin Grill. It is obvious that the recipe is a complete success as you Deron, have become a big bloke like us, and passed your own protein on to your friend Drew. I did wonder if you were going to be a problem.” The two hulks smile as they lovingly punch each other in the chest. They both say a few words to Bryson. “We both thought you were really hot Bryson, but you were so shady. You were trying to get me out of that room so fast. If it wasn’t for Terrence, I don’t think I would still be here right now.” “Yeah bro, I care deeply about this white hulk. He has always been there for me, and I wasn’t about to leave him out of this.” “I can understand that guys. That doesn’t matter anymore, now does it? My guards are going to let you back in through a side door. We need to discuss what the next move will be for not only you two, but for whom the recipe will be offered to next.” Two huge men are now trying to get them to go through a side door, but Terrence is messing with one of them. Andrew starts laughing because he knows that he can put up a fight, if need be, as well. Bryson starts to sigh to himself. “Okay guys, I get it. You are both as big as the rest of us, but what you don’t know is we can get even bigger if it is necessary. Don’t make me tell them to take the booster.” One of the men pulls out a syringe and gets ready to plunge it into his partner before Terrence yells out that he will cooperate. “Good, just come back inside so we can discuss the future. You both will likely enjoy what I have in store for you.” Both Andrew and Terrence are led inside by the two men, who quickly close the door behind them. Bryson shakes his head and makes sure no one is around before talking to himself. “I love this job so much, but getting to this point can be so frustrating. I will have to work really hard to get that black beast away from his white knight. He is going to be a BIG problem for sure. I can sense an aggressiveness with him. They do complement each other, but I need Deron’s obvious ability to turn runts into hulks. Mm... just thinking about him filling me with his seed makes my muscles sore with pleasure. Anyway, time to work my magic.” Bryson zips his pants up and leaves the office to go find the two beasts. It is just another night at the Myostatin Grill.
    16 points
  21. When you are about to fly home, but your tshirt is a bit undersized… (James' physical appearance is not very specific, so those are default faces and haircuts from Bing AI) Thanks @countmuscle for another great chapter I hope you will appreciate those AI fan arts of James.
    16 points
  22. POP, Part 5 “In the red corner,” bellowed the MMA announcer, “standing at 6’6” and breaking the scale at 450 lbs of massive cop-muscle. It’s Steve ‘The Mount Rushmore of Meat’ Carnitas!” Steve shadowboxed in his corner, pumping his massive fists like pistons, and stomping his feet like a bull. The ring shook under the weight of his huge muscles. “Fuck yeah, bring it on!” He screamed across the ring at his opponent. “And in the blue corner, standing at 5’8” and weighing in at 150 lbs of Italian steel, it’s Vinny ‘The Shiv’ Crisco.” The lean, mean mob enforcer sneered across the ring at the cop and flexed his ultra-hard biceps, the muscles mounding upwards into cascading piles of ropey knots. “That’s right, bitch, get a load of me.” Vinny twisted his wrists and a second peak bulged up from the muscle. Then he flexed harder and a freaky third peak popped out the top like a cockhead out of a foreskin. “Come suck on this, faggot, since you like muscles so much.” Steve grit his teeth as he watched Vinny lower those brutally strong arms and throw an uncanny blur of punches in the air. He steeled his nerves; he wouldn’t get beaten by this evil gnome again. The combatants met in the center of the ring and the ref was about to give the starting signal when he stopped and shook his head. “This fight cannot continue, both fighters must be in the same weight class.” “Nothing’s going to stop me from smashing this punk,” Steve growled. “It’s payback time.” “Don’t strain your pea-sized brain,” said Crisco. “I’m mob, we know how to fix the odds.” The slick mafioso slid under Carnitas’ legs and tore his boxing shorts right off his waist as he ducked through the slim space between the detective’s massive quads. “What the fuck are you doing?” “I’m doing what a man does, faggot. I’m taking what I want with my own hands.” Bracing his left hand on Carnitas’s back, Vinny swung a pulverizing uppercut punch straight between Steve’s glutes, burying his forearm up to the elbow. “Ahhhgh!” Steve screamed, “My ass! My ass! He’s busted my hole!!” “I’ll allow it,” said the ref. “No one to save you now, bitch,” Vinny sneered. Steve whimpered as he felt the muscles of his prized physique wobble. A sound like air leaking out of a balloon filled his ears and he panicked as his muscles begin to shrink. “No…” “Aw yeah,” Vinny growled as he absorbed the muscle-cop’s mass like his arm was a hose draining a vat. His lean hairy pecs swelled into slabs, then rounded boulders. His strong legs thickened from a sprinter’s lean muscle to the size of a horse’s haunches. He admired his free arm as meat spooled around it, forming huge triceps and biceps and delts Steve sobbed, horrified as his ass tore under pressure from Vinny’s forearm, bloated up with stolen muscle. Each of the cop’s muscles was softening, shrinking and weakening as the tough mafioso claimed his gym-honed strength for himself. Finally the ref said: “That’s enough, back to your corners. “Heh heh,” Vinny chuckled as he lifted Steve into the air, pitching him into his corner with a wave of his arm. The detective tumbled into a pathetic heap, and painfully got to his feet as blood dripped from his ravaged anus. Steve turned around slowly, his ass on fire, his heart racing as he took in the knee-weakening sight of his transformed nemesis. “Each fighter is now 300 lbs,” called the ref. “Fight’s on!” But to call the match even was a joke. Carnitas stood, 300 lbs of flabby flesh in loose-hanging skin, literally pissing himself as Vinny Crisco streaked across the ring, wearing the 300 lbs of stolen muscles on his 5’8” frame like a Ferrari crossed with a Sherman tank. “Take your best shot, pig.” Crisco raised his hands and placed them behind his head in the classic pose of surrender, but it was Carnitas who wanted to give up. Veins and striations streaked across his arms and pecs as their mass challenged the laws of physics. His long glossy black hair fell onto traps thicker than a Brahma bull. His abs could pave a whole Italian village in cobblestones. In desperation, he hooked punches left and right into that body and screamed as his fists shattered into bloody stumps. The evil hit man just chuckled. “My turn. Lights out, motherfucker.” Vinny’s nuclear punch broke the speed of sound as it rocketed the broken cop out of the ring in a linear trajectory to the back wall of the arena, high above the cheap seats. Blinded by the collapse of his face into his skull, Steve’s only sensation was his loose skin flapping like a sail in a windstorm in the two seconds before his body splattered against the concrete wall. ... “Huhhhhhnnnnnn!” Steve gasped as he woke suddenly from the nightmare, heart racing. He flopped out of his bed in a panic, his sweaty body tangled in his bedsheets. He tried to calm his breathing. “You’re okay, he can’t hurt you, he’s dead. It was just a nightmare." With a groan, he got to his feet. As the bedclothes slipped from his body, he caught a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror. Yeah, a nightmare I’m still living. *** “Let me guess, low blood sugar?” It’d been seven days since Detective Steve Carnitas had left his apartment. He knew that Flint would soon replace him on the case if he didn’t get back to work, but that seemed impossible. There was only one week left of the Camp Steamroller retreat, and Shaw was losing his mind with Steve ignoring his texts. Carnitas had made a desperate call. “Thanks for coming, doc,” he croaked. Dr Harry Stain walked in with his crime scene bag. He cast his eyes over Steve’s body, from toe to top. “I had my line all ready: ‘You do know my patients are usually dead, Steve.’ But seeing as how you look half-way there I guess I’ll do what I can.” “So if I’m your patient now, you gotta keep what I tell you confidential, right?” Stain snorted. “I’m going to regret taking this phone call, aren’t I?” *** “So let me get this straight. You were coming home late after the motel takedown when someone slugged you in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher, and then anally raped you with said fire extinguisher. Now you can’t hold your shit together, literally. You’ve stopped eating solid food, since you can’t shit, and have lost a staggering 150 lbs in one week, a third of your body weight. That about it?” Steve nodded, holding his breath. “This have anything to do with the pop case?” “No!” Steve interjected, much too quickly. Stain’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms as he stood in the bathroom door. Carnitas was sitting on the can. Even the chicken broth he was surviving on produced something, and it was either this or have another accident right in front of the pathologist. “You’ve got facial injuries, you must have seen your assailant.” “I didn’t, those are from the motel job.” “Steve, I read the electronic report you filed. You got hit in the nose and the right eye. Where did the broken teeth, torn lip and foot-shaped bruise on your forehead come from?” Steve had worried about this; Stain was too shrewd. “Look Dr Snoop, I don’t need a detective. My ass is wrecked. I need a physician.” “I just told you that I’m obliged to keep this confidential. Why are you lying to me?” Because, thought Steve, I know that confidentiality doesn’t extend to murder. And there was no way he was going to get Jonah Brick thrown in jail over a shitstain like Vinny Crisco. He recalled Brick’s words: Remember one thing. This was not your fault. “Bullshit,” Steve said out loud, his eyes welling up. “No. No, no.” Stain held his hands and backed away. “I don’t do tears.” Carnitas wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “You call that a fucking bedside manner?” “My bedside is a mortuary table.” “Ugh. You are such a bastard.” “Look, Steve. If you’re incontinent, that means the inner sphincter is compromised. You need a rectal surgeon. That means a hospital.” “No. No hospitals.” Stain put on his coat. “Well good luck with that, then. Next time you think to call me to waste my time, don’t.” And he was out the door. “Asshole!” Steve yelled, punching the tiled wall. He shook out his hand. A week ago, he would have punched a hole into the other room. “Weakling. Stupid, ugly, shrunken weakling.” His phone pinged. He looked at the screen. What the hell? He opened the Facebook app. New message request from Garrett Shaw: You’re making me resort to Facebook? Just for that I’m going to suplex your hypothyroid ass until your body crumbles in my hands like grandma’s biscuits. Call me. Steve’s stomach was stabbed with a hunger pang. Did he have to refer to food, goddamnit. Steve was about to put the phone down when he saw an ad pop up on his feed: ASSHOLE WRECKED? YOU NEED A RECTAL SURGEON. NO HOSPITALS, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. DR. DARIUS ASFARGHI. NATUROPATHIC SURGEON. 1-800-DRR-ASSS. Steven blinked in disbelief. “The goddamned Zuckerburg surveillance state comes through.” He shook his head in amazement and thumbed up the call. *** “Just so you know, he’s a bit on the rough side,” said the no-nonsense dyke nurse, Sharon, as she finished counting out the cash fee, six thousand dollars in small bills. “But his patients are mostly bottoms, so they like that.” Carnitas lay naked on the surgery table with his legs up in stirrups. “What makes you think I’m a bottom?” She raised a pierced eyebrow. “Didn’t you say this happened while you were shoving a fire extinguisher up your ass?” “Oh, right.” “If that was a lie, I really don’t want to hear the real story.” She turned to leave. “Wait, aren't you staying to assist?” “Oh he won’t need any help. Plus, I can’t stand the smoke. Allergies.” “Huh? Wait, one more question. What’s a naturopathic surgeon?” “You’ll see, Pinocchio.” Steve reflected on how bad a liar he’d been this past week. He needed to eat again, not only to gain back the mass, but for his brain. How was he going to manage an undercover job, let alone keep his story straight if he was questioned in Crisco’s disappearance, if he couldn’t even fool a nurse at a dead-end, probably illegal clinic. His reverie was interrupted by a bang as Dr. Asfarghi kicked open the swinging doors and entered, carrying a surgical tray, and smoking a fat cigar. He dropped the tray on a stand near the end of the table and then stood at Carnitas’ feet. He was 6’5”, 320 lbs of utterly masculine Persian-American muscle-stud. “What have we got here?” “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, Dr. Asferg… OW!” The doctor slapped the inside of his knees to open his legs wider, with a hairy hand the size of a textbook. “Just call me Dr. Ass. You think I want the name of my line mangled by your pissant diction? It was a rhetorical question. It’s always the same story with you faggots.” “You can’t talk to me like that… OHHH!” Steve moaned and arched his back like a whore. His dick, plump from the moment Asfarghi walked in the room, shot instantly rigid as the doctor shoved four thick hairy fingers into his broken hole. “Yes, same story.” He pushed deeper and Steve gasped, nearly blasting a week’s load of cum into his own face. “Both sphincters. Bite off more than you could chew?” Change the subject, Steve. He pointed to the janitor’s sink on the left side of the room. “Hey you didn’t… What do you call it, scrub?” “It’s ass, idiot. I don’t scrub before these cases, I scrub after. Any more stupid questions?” “... No.” Dr Asfarghi stuck his thumb in to join the fingers in a fist. “No, what?” “OHH… No… sir…?” “Now you’re getting it.” He withdrew his hand and Steve’s face fell as he experienced an emptiness that was physical and emotional. The surgeon’s lip curled into a smirk. “Don’t cry, boy. When I’m done with you, you’ll be nice and tight for Daddy. But no more faggy writhing, this isn’t pole-dance class.” Carnitas winced as the doctor slapped a heavy glass ashtray on his abs, and then slapped his phone next to it. He tapped off the ash at the end of his cigar and then put on an earpiece. “I thought you couldn’t smoke in a hospital.” “You blind as well as dumb? This look like a hospital to you?” He tapped his earpiece as he sat on the stool. “Put me through to my trainer, Sharon.” The surgeon pulled a head lamp on an elastic band onto his forehead. “What the hell?” Steve objected. “You can’t take a personal call in the middle of—” “Shut it, nancy. Men are talking. Yo, Stark!” Steve’s ears pricked up. Yeah, shut it, nancy, he told himself. “Tell me more about this investment opportunity,” said the surgeon, his head dipping below Steve’s line of sight. He paused to spit a wet glob on Carnitas’ hole. “This Steamroller thing. You really think it’s got potential?” He spat again and massaged Steve’s anus with his big thumb. His other hand reached over and knocked more ash off the cigar. “I’m not interested in going all in on a fad. Nobody remembers the Thigh-Master.” Steve couldn’t hear the dialogue of the response, but the tinny earpiece speaker couldn’t obscure the power of the voice on the other side. The low-frequency vibes caressed Steve’s sensitive inner thigh til he shivered, and his cock rose slowly to full-mast. “So your father has this cutting edge technique, but sounds like he’s got no business sense. Forest retreats, meditation, drumming? Yeah, no.” More spit, more massaging, Steve stifled an aroused moan. “So you need an angel investor to come up with a marketing plan, a full scale assault on the commercial gym sector. Make Gold’s Gym your bitch. Now that’s something I can get behind.” Steve was so close to cumming he could barely keep up with his serendipitous surveillance. He forced himself to listen. “So what kind of return on investment are we talking about?” He whistled slowly. “No kidding, huh. Stark, if this works out, I will gladly suck your fucking dick in thanks.” That thick manly hand appeared again to dash more char into the ashtray. “HUH-HUH-HUH.” Steve froze at the sound from the earpiece. The exact cadence of the perp’s evil chuckle. Unmistakeable. “Ohhhhhh shiiiiit,” his voice climbed in pitch. He tried to slam the door on the sudden cumshot with a hard Kegel squeeze but half of it still got through, dripping down like white wax from the tip of his adamant hard-on. Asfarghi stood, and raised a thick dark eyebrow at the splooge. “Gotta go, Stark, duty calls.” He tapped his earpiece. “Damn, faggot, pace yourself.” He tapped a last bit of ash into the tray and then removed it and the phone to the stand. Then Dr. Darius Asfarghi unknotted the ties at the waist of his scrubs and pulled them down, and Steve whimpered as he took in the most stunning, beautiful cock he’d ever seen. It was perfectly shaped, thick and veiny even flaccid, with a head the color and shape of a succulent plum. It and his egg shaped balls were framed by a dense hairy bush, black as the night sky. The surgeon nodded knowingly at Steve’s speechless reaction. “Yeah.” He hefted the weight of the breathtaking member in his hand. “Can you imagine, if my namesake ancestor King Darius the Third had had a cock like this? That faggot Alexander the so-called Great would have turned his ass up in surrender, just like you. Ah, well, what might have been.” The doctor closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and discharged a flood of golden piss onto, and into, Carnitas’ exposed hole. “What the fuck?” Steve bellowed hoarsely. The powerful piss-stream shot up into his gape, and Steve’s humiliation turned to astonished arousal as the blissful warmth of it spread up his abdomen. A tranquil smile came over his face, his first in a week. The surgeon smirked again. “Objection withdrawn?” “I’ll take some to go,” Steve whispered. Asfarghi tucked his regal cock back in his scrubs, and dumped the cigar ashes in Steve piss-soaked hole. “Okay. We’ll let the antiseptics cook while I work on your anesthesia." He stared at Steve’s confused face. “That okay by you?” “Fine, fine,” Steve replied meekly. The surgeon crossed his arms in front of him and peeled off his green scrub top with a smooth upward motion. “Wow!” Steve blurted. Asfarghi’s upper body was bursting with ultra-jacked, densely furry man-muscle. “Yeah I get that a lot. Pick your poison. Arms?…” He raised his arms in a victory pose, exploding his thick hairy forearms with a twist of his wrists, his virile biceps and triceps swelling in perfect tandem over deep bushy pits. “Oh…” Steve moaned, his cock rising once again. “Or abs?…” The doctor slid his hands down his torso to his hips, crunching his abs into a bas-relief sculpture, highlighted by the inky-dark hair in the inch deep crevices. “Ohhhhh…” Steve humped the air, imagining what it would be like to frot that manly masterpiece. “Or pecs?…” “Ohhhh pecs, yes! Pecs!” Steve babbled, insanely aroused. “Huge mounds… so hairy… so hard… smother me… ohhhh.” “Do NOT cum, boy. Pecs it is.” The doctor stepped to the side and pulled a jump rope from under the table. “Watch closely, boy. And do not cum.” The doctor started jumping rope. His prodigious, meaty flexed pecs bounced hypnotically, as powerful bands of muscle tensed from his shoulders to his sternum. “You watching, boy? … Watch Daddy’s hairy chest… Yeah, boy, so powerful… so manly…” “So powerful… so manly…” Steve droned. “Watch those hairy muscle-pecs bounce, boy. You see them bounce. Follow the bounce with your eyes.” “They’re bouncing… they’re bouncing…” “Up and down, up and down, follow the bouncing muscle.” “Muscle bouncing, so hot, you’re so hot, Daddy… so… hot…” “Now look closer, boy, zoom in on Daddy’s bouncing pecs. They’re all around you now. You feel safe with Daddy’s muscle all around you.” “”I… feel safe…” “Daddy will protect you… Daddy would never hurt you…” “Never… hurt… me…” “As long as you see Daddy, you’ll never feel pain… Because Daddy would never hurt you…” “Never… feel… pain… Daddy… never… hurt… me…” “Now you’re going to close your eyes, but you’re still going to see Daddy’s hairy pecs, bouncing just for you, boy.” Steve closed his eyes. “Just… for… me…” Dr Asfarghi stopped skipping, his heart pounding from the cardio, and approached the head of the table. “Now a little aromatherapy and we’re good to go.” He used one finger to scrape thick nectar-like sweat from the muscled wall of his hairy pec. He applied it to Steve’s upper lip as his eyelids fluttered. The surgeon crossed back to his stool and unwrapped the surgical tray. Grasping the needle driver in his right hand, he spread Steve’s damaged hole open with his left. “Here we go. One stitch for good boys…” he said, drawing out the thread from the inner sphincter, before plunging in again. “And one for Daddy.” Tying a knot, he cut the thread and moved to the outer sphincter. “And once again, one stitch for good boys… and one for Daddy.” “One for Daddy?” Steve droned. “Daddy likes an extra stitch. You want to be tight for Daddy, don’t you boy?” “Am I, tight for Daddy?” “Let’s find out.” Dropping the needle driver, Asfarghi lowered his scrubs again. This time his stupendous cock was as hard as surgical steel. He crawled up on top of Steve, enveloping his hypnotized patient in his sweaty, hairy muscles. His strong heartbeat thudded against Steve’s chest. Gently, he probed Steve’s hole with his pre-cum-slicked cock. When he was in all the way, he sighed with satisfaction. “Aw, yeah, boy. Feels so good.” “It feels good, Daddy?” “Oh fuck yeah! Daddy does good work.” “Good work… for a good boy.” “Nice and easy, boy, squeeze Daddy’s cock gently.” Steve squeezed his butthole and smiled with pleasure. He was whole again! “You healed me!” he gasped as he opened his eyes. “Fucking right, boy, Daddy’s a fucking stud. Squeeze a little harder, boy. That’s it. Awwhhhhhggrrr!!” Asfarghi thrust only twice and then came hard, unloading a hefty dose of healing spermy stem cells into Steve’s ass. He collapsed on Steves’s chest, rolled onto one side, then got up from the table. “Damn I’m good.” Steve was coming out of the hypno, but grateful tears streamed out of his eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” he breathed. “Just think about this moment for now on. You don’t need anything up there other than cock. And there’s always cock to be had, isn’t there?” The doctor stopped short as he saw Steve’s torn lip. “Hold on, what’s this?” “Oh, well I just thought that would be a different surgeon.” Dr Asfarghi snatched up some debriding scissors from the tray. “No cocksucking patient of mine is going to leave my care without lips suitable for cocksucking. But I’m going to have to put you right out for this.” He raised his enourmous muscular arm and dropped his sweaty, densely hairy armpit over Steve’s face. “Breath deep, faggot. Count backwards from ten.” “10…9…” Steve’s lungs filled with dreamy man-musk and his brain was doused in stupefying pheromones, erasing all memory of Vinny Crisco, or any other man for that matter, who wasn’t descended from Persian kings. His cock shot another creamy load as he reached number 7. “Nighty-night, boy. You’ll be handsome as ever when you wake up.” *** “Where’d Dr. Ass go?” Steve said as he lurched out of the surgery room. Sharon was sitting at her desk. “Something about an investment opportunity? Had to go see his banker.” Steve’s heart fluttered like a school girl’s. “Did he happen to say anything about me being handsome? I wasn’t sure about what I heard in there.” She looked up from her magazine. “Damn, he did your lip for free? And put veneers on your teeth? Yes my friend, he definitely wants to fuck you again.” Carnitas floated out the door like he was pumped full of helium. He flagged down a cab as his stomach rumbled. “Bad Brad’s Diner. On the double. Police emergency.” He texted Garrett Shaw. Meet you at Camp Steamroller, tomorrow morning. Let the elder Stark know I’m a DBag desperate to see the light. To be continued [And sorry for those anxiously awaiting Camp Steamroller... next chapter, I promise!]
    15 points
  23. Chapter 2 The first evening of what she later thought of as her journey of self-discovery was a disaster of nerves for Lacey. Did Tait find the note? If he did, what was he going to do? Was he going to tell Kane? She did her best to hide her emotions from her fiance… not that it mattered. As soon as they got home, Kane went back to what he had been doing for months now - nothing but reading and reading on his laptop. Only she had no idea what he was reading. She had tried fair means and foul to find out what he was so obsessed with online, but for the first time since they had moved in together, Kane had locked his cell phone in every way he could. He had password-protected his computer and the one time he had forgotten to lock it, she found everything she knew to look at had been scrubbed clean. No history, no cache, nothing saved. No clue at all. It was eating her alive… and making her doubts grow. Lacey was in the bedroom changing into a nightgown for bed when her phone vibrated a text message. It was just after 7pm. She glanced at the lock screen and saw an unknown number had sent a text. Ordinarily she would have dumped it as spam, but this night. She had to see. Most cautiously, she unlocked her phone and read: 321-555-1234: Hello. I am responding to a note left in my pocket this afternoon. If this is the correct response, please reply with my name and yours. Upon reading the cryptic message, Lacey was confused. It did seem like it was spam or someone phishing at first read. But, the coincidence of knowing about a note in a pocket was too much. She decided to reply as instructed.: Lacey: Hello Tait, this is Lacey Masters. Within seconds a long reply came. 321-555-1234: Hello Lacey. Yes, this is Tait. Forgive the secrecy, but I keep my personal cell phone number very private. Just a few family members and now you. I have puzzled over the meaning of your note to me, but, of course, I am willing to meet you privately. In fact, I was wanting to ask to meet with you alone myself, but the opportunity never presented itself. I am planning to speak with Kane alone but having any insights from you before I meet him would help me to help you both. If you are willing, please come to Kin Khao Thai Restaurant at Golden Gate Park tomorrow at 1 pm. I have a lunch meeting there at 11:30, but after that we can go to the park, take a walk, and talk about anything you like. I will respect not sharing with Kane as long as he isn't in danger unless you give permission. But should he find out, us clearly being in a public place like the Park should assuage some of the fears he showed at lunch. If this is agreeable, please let me know. Lacey sat back and absorbed the reply with a sigh of relief. It felt like a weight every bit as heavy as Tait himself had been lifted from her shoulders. Finally, someone to… just talk to. Someone that could maybe fix this. She returned the text: Lacey: That’s perfect. More than I could hope. I will be there. Tait replied: Tait: Good. If I am not waiting on you, just ask the maitre’d for me. You might want to “dress down” a bit for a walk in the park, despite this being a high end restaurant. I'll be in business casual but still comfortable. See you tomorrow. *** Lacey arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early. She had done as Tait asked and had worn a nice pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and a jacket. Her choices showed her figure off very nicely but still quite tastefully. She didn’t exactly intend to copy Tait’s simple style from the day before, but what she chose did fit well into that. As usual, Kane didn’t ask why casual clothes were laid out for work after she packed her gym bag. He just looked at it with apparent disinterest on his way to breakfast, and went on to the kitchen. Upon going into the restaurant, Lacey was greeted with the typical hustle and bustle of people who work downtown along with tourists mixing in making the place very busy. She looked around and did not see Tait anywhere, and with his sheer size, he was a hard man to miss. Following her instructions, she walked to the maitre d's podium and addressed the well appointed man standing there. “Excuse me, I am looking for Doctor Tait Holden.” she said. This staff member was certainly more kind to her than the one from the day before - and whether that was because Kane was not with her this time or she was asking for Tait, she did not know. However, at the mention of her future father-in-law, she saw a bit of a shiver go through the man’s face. If she did not know better - the shiver was something akin to fear. The man asked for her ID. Lacey provided it. “Thank you, Ms Masters. Doctor Holden said to expect you and I need to be careful about who is admitted to their private meeting. If you will come this way -” The man escorted Lacey through the crowd and up to a door labeled as a private dining room. He opened the door, and inside two men looked up. One man was so big that even with his back turned to the door, there was no doubt at all it was Tait. The other man was late middle age and quite large and tall in his own right. He was much more thickly muscled when compared to a normal sort of person. Tait made him look like a child of course, but Lacey knew he did that to everyone. Tait stood and smiled broadly when he recognized Lacey. He was dressed quite smartly but very fashionably. Tait wore a sort of classic black t-shirt over a blazer, a fabulous pair of black jeans, and stylish slide shoes. A perfect business casual. The other man was a bit more formally dressed, but wore no tie with his oxford collar shirt and jacket. Lacey heard the door close behind her. As it did, Tait took off his jacket, left it folded on his chair, and came up to her. He took her hand, and again, Lacey felt the same heady flash of attraction as yesterday… Oh My God. She thought. Tait again filled her vision with muscle and sheer scale almost beyond imagination. That t-shirt he had on. It actually had textured fabric that was a bit stretchy and the collar had a zipper where a polo shirt might have had buttons. The zipper was partly open and showed what looked to be inch thick pecs with a valley in between… And all of that was above her head. And his arms… Oh. Wow. His arms. The stretchy fabric hugged it all so perfectly. And then HIS legs in perfect black denim… He was showing off so perfectly. Basic black for a business meeting, but so stylish and comfortable for such a huge man, he could have walked straight into the most exclusive of nightclubs… She felt the heady flash of raw sexual attraction again as he took her hand in his giant one and again kissed it — but she had expected it this time. It was just as strong as before, but she was much more in control of it now rather than it controlling her. She resisted the urge to feel him up this time. “Hello Lacey. Thank you for meeting me here on short notice. We were just finishing up.” Lacey ripped her eyes away from his arms and looked up into Tait's killer handsome face and there was just the tiniest wink. Was that because he noticed her reaction again… or was it asking her silently to play along…. Tait then nodded to the other man. “Lacey, I’d like you to meet Mr. John Lynch. He went to Stanford as well, played football a couple years before me. He is in the NFL Hall of Fame as a Safety, and is the President and General Manager of the 49ers. John and I even played together on both the Broncos and the Bucs, where I took great pride in taking him down a peg or two along with the rest of those uppity guys in Canton. John, this is Lacey Masters, my soon to be daughter-in-law.” Lynch smiled as he took Lacey’s hand. “Don’t let Tait lie to you. I did take him down a couple of times too. And he belongs in Canton too. Will be if I can twist a few more arms. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Lacey shook Lynch’s hand as Tait continued. “Lacey and I are going to talk a bit of wedding plans after we are finished,” Tait said, making her presence alone perfectly believable. “Although, if you are OK with it, I would like to bring Lacey and Kane with me to the workout facility while I am here.” “I’ll leave a message with the staff, Tait. Happy to have you both with us Lacey. Tait said you live here?” “Yes, just across the bay.” “Great.” Lynch looked at Tait. “You two probably have a lot to talk about if wedding planning is in the mix. And I think you and I have taken care of everything we need too. I’ll just take off a few minutes early and leave you both to it. Again, wonderful to meet you Lacey - and don’t buy into all the tall tales he will spin for you. Only about 95% of them are true.” All three laughed, as Lynch released Lacey’s hand, took Tait’s and shook the monster paw. “And don’t you two bring any cake samples to the facility. I have enough guys trying to control their weight without wedding cake pieces lying around. I’ll see you next week, Freight Train.” There was another round of chuckles as Lynch grabbed his briefcase, and left the room. Tait waited for several seconds until he knew that Lynch had left. Then, he embraced Lacey in a hug. “How are you, Little Lady?” Tait sort of heard her say, “OK” as he enveloped her and pulled her in. But what he actually felt was Lacey almost dropping to dead body weight in his arms the moment he closed them. And then he certainly heard words through his t-shirt. “No, Tait, I’m not alright. Not alright at all.” Tait pulled her back to see that her eyes were wet to the point of tears. The emotions were right on the surface - sadness, worry, frustration. Such pain. “Lacey, what is–?” The concern was clearly evident on his face. Lacey interrupted a mix of both embarrassment and sadness coming through her voice. “Oh Tait, I’m sorry for yesterday. I guess… I don’t know. Can you forgive me for acting the way I did? For coming on the way I did. It’s just been so hard these last few months. Harder than I can say, and then there you were - getting Kane to speak more words in an hour than I heard in the last month.” The salty drops began to slowly steam down her cheeks. Tait’s heart exploded for the petite girl. He looked down at her earnestly, powerfully. Had he not been holding her, Lacey swore she would have been physically moved by that look. “Lacey-” he said, “you did nothing to apologize for. Especially not when you are feeling like THIS.” Tait reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief - another one of those old-fashioned midwestern male things he had never given up. He dried her tears from her cheeks before handing her the white cloth. “I was going to suggest we leave, but clearly, we need to stay here for a while.” Tait took Lacey to the chair Lynch had been sitting in, guided her into place, and then pressed a button on a wireless unit. “Can you bring some water please and – Lacey would you like anything?” “Water is fine,” she said. Tait concluded the call to the staff, moved his chair next to Lacey, and sat holding her hand, comforting her. “Lacey, please what’s wrong? What is happening?” Tait asked. The young woman sat dabbing another tear running down her cheek, trying to bring her emotions together long enough to speak. Just as she was about to, the staff came in with water and glasses. Seeing a clearly emotional situation, and being familiar that Tait was a mental health professional, the employee quickly left, pulling the door shut. Then Lacey began, “I… I don’t know Tait. I wish I did. But I don’t. It’s Kane.” She turned to look into the giant man’s eyes. “I need your help. I need your help to hold my relationship together.” Tait sighed and decided it was best to open up to the striking young woman. “Lacey, I think you know that I am not actually here because of work. That is just a formality. I am here because of Kane.” Through her tears, she looked at Tait and nodded as she gathered that from his text. Tait quickly said, “I don’t know what is happening to him. Believe it or not, his golf coach called me and told me something was wrong, and that he was about to lose his place on the tour because he isn’t showing up to play. I asked for lunch with you two to try and gauge him. I can tell something is wrong, far beyond our - I guess normal rivalry - but I don’t know what. I was hoping you could help me. But… no matter what I will do all I can for you and my son.” The heavy burden seemed to rise again, the final piece of what started to lift the day before when she got the text. She was about to not be alone with the secret anymore. “Kane just came home one day several months ago from the gym. Well someone or something came home in Kane’s body from the gym… but it isn’t him. That person who was sitting across from you yesterday is not the man I know. It is as if he is possessed. He never leaves home unless he has to. He just sits and reads on his computer in the living room. Or he will lock himself in the office at home. All day, every day. His phone and computer are always locked. And… Tait, he barely speaks to me. When he held my hand yesterday, that was the first time he had touched me in any meaningful way in three months.” She hesitated before he nodded for her to continue. “This is a bit embarrassing and tell me if it is too much information. But you are a psychiatrist and you said you wanted to know everything. Tait, Kane and I have not had any sort of intimate contact at all, not even a kiss, this entire year. Almost five months now without anything at all even remotely intimate before yesterday. And that was just the intimacy of holding my hand. He has been having these occasional mysterious chats online. He has cut us off from affection, ignoring me…” She again sighed, but it was partly done. If he was going to help, she needed to finish. “Tait. if I didn't know better I would suspect him of having an affair. Except he never leaves home to see anyone. If he does leave, which is almost never, he is gone all day long, but… Dammit, I feel awful about doing this, but I used the find your phone app on him a few times to track him. He is always, and I mean always, in the hills on hiking trails or out at the shore or something. Not anywhere where he could be… I don’t think… meeting up with anyone. It isn’t much that he is gone though. At best once a month. And I’ve asked but he never wants me to go with him when he is doing that. He barely will go with me to the grocery anymore, and that lunch is again, the first time we have been out to eat for anything all year long, I just don’t know…” Her spilling words of anguish drifted off to a tearful silence as the beautiful, normally powerful lady was reduced to a mass of pain. His handkerchief had become stained with the small amounts of makeup that she wore. Tait looked horrified, shaken, at these revelations. What the fuck is wrong with my son, he wondered to himself. Lacey gathered her strength and continued, finished. “Tait, you are an extremely good looking man. So strong… and I don’t just mean physically. Though you are. I see so many things about Kane in you. I saw so much of the Kane I love who is gone right there in you. Little things that make me smile that I know now where he inherited them. And on top of that, you have other things just physically that attract me to a man that Kane doesn’t. So, when you touched me after all this time with no physical contact with anyone… without having those parts of Kane that I love so much…I became intoxicated by it. I guess you could say that touch is my love language, and Kane has cut me off. His companionship… he has cut me off. It’s like I live with the Grim Reaper. You didn’t cut me off as strong as you are, confident. I guess… The confident man I thought Kane used to be and more. I became attracted to that and craved it. So badly attracted that I made a fool of myself.” Tait jumped in immediately, “Nonsense. Don’t you ever think that way. You didn’t make a fool of yourself. Now that you have told me this… you did what anyone would do. Better and more controlled than most people ever could truth be told. LOOK AT ME.” The power of Tait’s words acted as if he had grasped her chin and pulled her head to focus on his eyes. “YOU ARE A LOVELY, STRONG WOMAN. A SUPERIOR WOMAN. In mind and body and spirit. All of it. And you are in pain. You reached out for support. You called out for help. There is no sin in that. In fact, that is yet another strength of virtue in you, not vice. I certainly take no offense - then or especially now.” Tait focused on her more, but she saw a shift in that powerful look. Across his monumentally handsome visage came a sight of his own pain. Pain she saw yesterday when he spoke of Kane’s mother. “And… part of your reaction was me. I’ve no doubt of that. You remind me so much of Jess. Maybe the only person who truly has since she passed. They say that men marry their mothers and… while you are not Jess, you have so many of her best qualities that drew me to her in the first place all those years ago. When you touched me for a few moments - well it was sort of like being with her again. You accidentally touched on my feelings for Kane’s mother. I got intoxicated by that feeling as much as you did with yours. I am trained in this stuff. I should have known better than to allow my own emotions to get in the way of my son and daughter-in-law's needs. So it is me who needs to beg your pardon, not the other way round.” At that revelation, both sat quietly for a moment. Lacey just looked at him while he looked across and down at her. There was something there between them. Both of them felt it. There was the love they both had for Kane, and there was the love Tait had for Jess, but something else… something familiar that was yet unique. Just a seed. But it was unique and new but familiar and old. Both instinctively knew what it was, but shied from it. They could not acknowledge it. After what must have been a full minute of silence, Lacey finally said. “There is no offense where none is taken. I will accept your apology, but you are only a stronger man in my eyes now. But Tait, I have to be honest. Fully honest. The stress of it all. Kane is like - he is so obsessed with whatever it is. And he will not give me one peep of a hint. But being so starved for simply companionship. I… I can’t take this much longer. I love him so much Tait, but I have found myself wondering about leaving him for someone else. I guess that initial feeling I had for you and acting the way I did proves it. I would have… done something terrible if you were not you and he was not right there. Tait, I can’t live like this. Not forever. And feeling caring from you yesterday… It just reminded me of who Kane used to be. I don’t want to leave him. But one day soon I will not be with as strong a man as you are, as honorable, and I will feel even worse and I will weaken and I… I will betray him in a moment of just wanting to feel human and loved again. I know it. I don’t want it, but I can’t stop it unless Kane does. And I’ll leave him, even though I don’t want to leave him… Can you help me, Tait? Please help me get my man back.” Tait smiled at the young woman, a warming, powerful smile. A smile that immediately boosted the spirit. “My son and his fiance are in trouble. I was raised to take care of my own, to help my own, and you both are that. As much as Kane is my own, so are you now. OK? I will do ALL I can to help. ALL I CAN. Do you understand me? “I will work on Kane, of course, but I want to help you too. Privately, one on one if you want. We can even have some “formally” informal talks that are sort of like professional sessions I have with clients. Or I can just be a safety valve for you or I can be both. Just like this. You have so much stress, Lacey, you are almost to the breaking point. You just told me that. What you said was happening would have happened to almost anyone a long time ago, and the fact that you have not left yet - my son has no idea of the caliber of person he has. “You need anyone to talk with. I am here for you. Any time, day or night. I can’t formally work with you as a client, as that is unethical. But, I can help you as a friend - a friend and family member who has a LOT of training by the best minds locked up here in mine. I want to help you… become who you were meant to be. Just like I said yesterday. Who are you, Lacey Masters? What do you want? Where are you going? If it helps to sort out your feelings or direction in life or just a shoulder to cry on or a new TV show you binged you need to share about. I am offering - if you are willing. But rest assured - I am here to help Kane, and we will find an answer. OK? You are not alone anymore.” Lacey smiled through her tears. “Thank you. I can’t say how much I am. How… How long are you staying? How long do you have?” “Don’t worry. Let me take care of that. I will stay as long as it takes to help you both fix this if it can be fixed. Or to help both of you individually find your way if it cannot. I have… well a LONG time in built up paid leave. A very long time. And I will spend every day of it right here if I need to. I have a proposal to make along those lines. Will take Kane saying yes of course, but if he does and you do, I can stay for quite a while.” Lacey’s tears stopped and she slowly smiled. “Then is it too bad to ask if I can hug you again? And no feeling your ass and slipping in notes this time?” Tait laughed hysterically. “Baby girl, for you, that is one question you never have to ask. Consider me always wearing a “free hug” t-shirt.” Lacey laughed herself as Tait again said the perfectly charming, corny, disarming thing that just lifted her mood. She threw herself into Tait’s arms. The giant man closed the massive peaks and forearms around her tiny waist, raised up, and lifted the fit woman into mid-air as if she weighed nothing at all. Tait understood her desire now - what it was she was feeling when she felt him. Why he was feeling as if she were drawing strength from him. Because she was drawing strength from him, strength to stay in a terrible place in her and Kane’s life. Lacey was a strong woman - a powerful woman in every aspect of life. And she wanted a strong man to share life with. It was not too far off the mark to say she needed one. An equal. Tait knew he had raised Kane that way - to be that sort of man. But for whatever reason right now he wasn’t. Kane had never been as dominant a force as he was - but few people were. Kane didn’t have to be. Whatever had happened - Kane was slowly drawing the life from her. And she couldn’t lose her life for long before she bolted for her own self-preservation. Tait felt fiercely protective of her in that moment of realization. Until their relationship was repaired, if it could be repaired, Tait decided he would be that strength she needed. The strength she needed to be able to stay with Kane. She could lean on him until she and Kane could stand on their own again… or until she could stand on her own without him. As after the lunch the day before, Lacey’s hands explored Tait in the hug, feeling his strength. His body, his mind. But she understood, in a way, she was making sure this giant man and his offer were for real. Making sure through every sense she had that he was really there and was really going to help. As she did, her weeping stopped all together. Tait felt it, felt the change in her emotions from a sea of black storm clouds to having a small ray of sunshine piecing them. He said softly, deeply, “Go ahead. I am strong enough for both of us until Kane gets through this. OK?” Tait’s words were like magic. Sight, touch, smell, even taste somehow though her lips were far from him - and now hearing the perfect words. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Tait felt her surrender the burden to him - felt the tension leave her and come onto him. He could bear it as easily as he bore her weight. He knew he could and for him it would be a rare pleasure to take care of family like this. They stood that way for a couple of minutes, Lacey releasing months of pent up worry, sorrow, stress. But finally, Tait lowered her to the ground and let go. He could tell Lacey didn’t want to let go… but there were other ways to give her strength and help her at the present. He looked down. “How do you feel about having our first “session” right now? How does a walk in the park strike you? Can’t exactly pass up what passes for a nice spring day in San Francisco can you?” Lacey laughed softly as she looked up affectionately at Tait - not with the affection one would have toward a lover, but with the affection one would have for a best friend and treasured confidant - someone she now had. “How can I refuse the invitation of such a special man?” she said. Tait actually blushed a bit hearing that. Lacey smiled at how much Tait’s blush resembled Kane when he let it out. Tait replied - and though self-deprecation was not typically his thing, he felt it warranted. “There you go, with that flattery again. I am just the man my father and grandfather taught me to be. You’ll understand when you meet Kane’s grandpa. I don’t know if he has told you but we have a tradition in the family of exchanging vows in a tiny family church back in Nebraska. We have for a very long time.” “He told me and truth be told - I rather like the idea of something small and intimate a lot more than the cathedral my mother wants. The way my career is heading - Kane and I will not want material things. And I know you do not allow that to happen on top of it. So, I have come to love the small things, those quiet moments in life. You know? And - It isn’t flattery if it is the truth, Tait. You are a very special man. I can see what Kane’s mom saw when she talked to you.” Tait wanted to say something… something about how much of Jess he saw in her, how much of the powerful woman she was that he fell head over heels for when he was at that Stanford party. But, he thought better of it. Confusing his feelings for Jess with Lacey was not a path he should walk down…. He decided to ignore the comment… except for just a tiny bit. Depending on how you saw things, how she saw things - it was either helping her relax into a very intimate subject or unwanted flirtation. And there was no way to know until he did… As they left the restaurant and started toward Golden Gate Park, told the maitre’d that he would be back for his jacket and to finish up with the meeting room. Lacey heard the man almost fearfully say, “Of course Doctor Holden. Take all the time you need.” Lacey only then noticed that Tait had left his coat and was walking her out in just the amazing t-shirt. She couldn't help but glance at those arms again. Maybe it was just from the most minor effort of holding her in the air but… they looked even bigger. He was right. Those gigantic arms as strong as they are… they are big enough and strong enough to carry the burden for a while. Maybe a long, long while. Maybe he could just crush this thing that's taken hold of Kane in those arms… Tait brought her out of her revelry with a bit of an odd smile. That… smirk, Kane called it. “Lacey, do you mind a personal question?” “You’re my therapist. Every question will be personal.” she smiled. “But no, I never mind a personal question from you anymore.” “This might be a bit from left field but… I take it that on a man you are rather… attracted to arms?” Lacey laughed and turned a bright shade of red. That was the reason for that smirk. She'd been caught. “That obvious, huh?” Tait chucked, “It was hard not to notice. Not that I minded much. So many men in particular think that I am “God’s gift’ so to speak, and how great it would be to look like this. Now, I won’t say that I don’t love it. I certainly do. But it also puts up a lot of barriers. For everyone who feels something from me… they feel as much fear of approaching or talking as anything else. That’s another reason why I do the gym thing with athletes - by the end of a good gym session if I have done my job properly, a lot of that fear or need for bravado to save face with me is gone. They can’t match me… but then again they do not have to. Something I wish I could have passed onto Kane but never seemed able.” “I can see that. You certainly could be very intimidating. I don’t think it is telling you something that you don’t already know from what you just said, but Kane certainly is intimidated by you as much as he loves you. “Now…I admit like I told you in the restaurant… people wouldn’t suspect it when I fell in love with Kane, but on a purely… I guess what would you call it - animal level, I do like strong men. Very strong men. A lot. I like everything in that regard, but an arm is well… pretty accessible. “And you… Tait. Kane showed me photos of you of course. I knew from those and what is just out there online about you that you're a very big man. But - in person. Photos and numbers don't do you justice in the slightest. You're so much bigger and more muscular that I could have imagined. It's hard not to get carried away sometimes. Even when I try not to. ” In response, Tait went one small step more. He held out his arm, took Lacey’s, and wrapped it around his huge forearm. They locked, and he began to escort her side by side, as if they were walking around in a Victorian kind of old fashioned courting. “Then, there you go. No more self-consciousness or doubts. Not where I am concerned anyway. Trust me, I do not judge. Besides, everyone will look at me as the lucky guy with you on my arm… and I doubt anyone will bother us. Like I said before, you feel as much as you want or need. Anytime you just need a reminder that I am here and I am plenty strong enough to help you with this.” Tait chucked, as they both knew even someone armed with a gun would think twice before ever coming close to Tait. “So, I’ll start out the way I start out with everyone. Tell me about yourself, Lacey. Kane has told me a bit about you, but you know we do not talk that often. But that is what Kane sees. Tell me what you see about you. What’s gone into making you, you, walking with me right now… a confident, strong woman who in these times is quite rare…” The older man and the younger woman walked arm in arm through the park, sharing the first of what promised to be many more wonderful conversations…. *** It was just after noon the following Sunday, and the house was empty. And, if you asked him and he were being perfectly frank, Kane preferred it that way. Lacey had gone to the gym earlier in the morning and said that afternoon she was spending time with her girlfriends. In the back of his mind, he knew there would be guys at the gathering too. Kane grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and started making his way back to the couch. He remembered the Spring just one year prior - he would have been right there along with them. Sure, he didn’t quite fit with Lacey’s successful friends, but only one or two people had ever made him anything other than welcome. And Lacey had always been proactive in asking him to be there. But that was before… He sat down on the couch and popped the tab on the can of sugar and carbonation. He looked down at it. And it greeted his eyes again. One of a hundred sites he had committed to memory just to be safe. He felt like… what did he feel like? A jumbled, miserable mess perhaps. He felt awful on so many levels. He felt awful for what he knew he was doing to Lacey. She wouldn’t have… wouldn’t have been that way with his father at the lunch otherwise. She had tried so hard around the house, he knew it. But he ignored it. Not on purpose, but the thing in his mind. It made him care about so little else. And to his shame, that even extended to Lacey. It had taken overt flirting with his father to pull him out of not caring for a few minutes. But it didn’t last. All he cared about was this. And now… now, she was not trying as much anymore. He was treating her like shit. And, he was treating himself like shit. He looked at the screen - I mean, I am shit to be even looking at this, entertaining this. Right? Isn’t this what total shit people indulge in. The trash so bad that people hide it on TOR… But he couldn’t help it. It pulled him back. The feelings he felt when he looked at this, read it… it had to have been the high druggie’s chase. He had never done it physically again, but… he wanted to. Oh he wanted to. Just like the guy told him he would. But that would have been the last disrespect to Lacey. Aw, Fuck. Lacey…Maybe he should just let Lacey go. He loved her beyond imagination, but sometimes you have to let go of the people you love for their own good, so that you don’t cause them pain right? He was sure his father would have a pithy answer to that one but - Jesus FUCK how could he ever speak a peep of THIS to his father… And yet– Fuck, it just pulled him back in. As easy as that. He had lost track of time thinking of everything his father… the fellow at the gym. His father would have been like the poster child of this, the “hero” of it anyway, but then again what was he not the poster child and hero of that was… well… perfect? All they represented, the perfect they represented and were, while he was reading. Reading IT again, temptation to pick and watch another TOR video. It was fucking twisted, how he thought THIS was perfect. But he couldn’t help it– KNOCK,KNOCK… The knock at the door suddenly brought him out of the thoughts. He was startled but he glanced out the window to see an Amazon van a house or two down. Must be that at the door. Odd Lacey hadn’t said to expect a Sunday Amazon, but, then again, no one or nothing ever knocked at their door except for delivery when Lacey was not at home. Her friends knew where she was, and he had no friends to visit. Kane slid the laptop without care to the side of the couch, not even bothering to close the screen. Who cares if an Amazon driver saw something on a laptop. Besides it would be but for a second or two and there was no danger of Lacey returning anytime soon. He rose to get the door. He opened it, but his jaw dropped. Something blocked the doorway. SO BIG, it blocked almost all the daylight. A familiar smell hit him even if the sight didn’t quite register as possibly real. The strangely alluring scent of a Man, a sweat from his childhood. “Hello, Son.” It took that long for Kane’s shocked brain to register that it was a human being looking down on him. One GARGANTUAN HUMAN BEING. Holy Fuck… “D–D–Dad?” Kane managed to whisper. This could not be his Dad. This was a human monster, but it had to be his Dad. The face, the voice, the smell, it was his Dad. And the body… the BODY. Tait looked like a god standing there. And to many eyes, he was. He dressed in only a stringer tank top, a pair of shorts that strained to cover only half his quads, and huge trainers and socks. His skin was tanned and flushed and made him look almost oiled up for a photo shoot though he wasn’t. Small rivulets of sweat ebbed and flowed, seemingly at random but clearly down the deep cleft of his pecs and around his visible teardrop, and assuredly down his barely covered abs. And veins… so many veins. Veins on top of veins, but not in knots. Not twisted or varicose. These veins seemed to be a web of life that made the massive, cut muscled blow up even more, look even more perfect. His eyes fell again to the giant pecs he was staring straight into. They had to be inches thick - that cleft between them, with a dripping waterfall of salt water and scent and it was… so fucking BIG. He involuntarily licked his lips, his mouth dry. He was all so fucking BIG. And so, fucking STRONG. It had been years since he had seen his father like this, but even then he had NEVER been like this. Ever. So big and strong and huge and perfect and do– Everything I am not. Good Lord, so big. Like with that man at the gym that day, his world changed… except His father made the man at the gym look positively tiny– Tait smiled down, seemingly oblivious. He answered jokingly, “Last time I looked I was your Dad. I was on a long jog, and I just decided to take a run up this way. I’ve never seen your house, but when I saw the address was within range of my running, I followed google and here I am.” Tait said. The statement interrupted Kane’s almost worshipful adoration and awe, but the young man was still staring, taken aback at this sight. And above, Tait was looking down, reading his son. Tait may have seemed oblivious to the effect he was having, but he wasn’t. It took little of his training to read his son. ANYONE could read this reaction. Tait just wondered why. He had never seen this before from Kane. What Lacey said made sense. Kane… was well.. He was many things. He was shocked when he should not have been. There was… what was that look? Was it– Couldn’t be. Then under it - the emotion was just as clear as the shock. Tait had seen it since his son was still in diapers. Kane… was afraid. Not scared, not intimidated. He was afraid. Afraid of something, and so far as Tait knew, Kane had never been afraid of him in his life. And - there it was, that something else again. When he looked back to his chest. It was beyond shock. If he didn’t know better, he was sure it was desi- “May I come in?” Tait said, not giving away what he was receiving from his son. “I took a chance that Lacey would not be here, since she said she usually went to the gym this time of day, and I don’t see her car. I think it’s time we had a talk - and in a place where there is no chance of being overheard.” Tait knew he had one chance at this, and he needed some ambush tactics as an ally. That was why, in truth, Lacey had told him to come at this time, and that she would be gone. Kane wanted to tell his father no, to go away, but how could he? It was his father, after all. He had done nothing wrong. They had left that lunch on better terms than in months, since this… this all began. How could he be that rude? And that tone - Kane knew it. The subtle hint of command. Tait wasn’t going to take any sort of no for an answer. He was going to come in, even if Kane had said no. No one told Tait Holden no - not with that tone in his voice. Sure, it was a suggestion, but the way he imagined a specialist telling you that you needed chemo to live was just a suggestion. Kane stepped back and said, “I guess. Come in Dad. I guess - I guess we need to clear the air.” Kane turned around and then saw the laptop. Oh shit. Has he seen? Well, his father COULD NOT see that. Not dressed the way he was. Not with Kane feeling the way he was. Not with his Dad in such a commanding mood. Then he realized…Had he just been drooling over his own father!?! Goddammit. His father wasn't stupid enough not to start putting pieces together - and Kane could not allow that to happen. His father and Lacey and his whole family would hate him in a moment– As fast as he thought he could without drawing even more attention, Kane made his way to the couch, shifted the screen away from Tait, and closed to the lid. Thank fuck it wasn't that video he was thinking of playing or a chat but just a wall of fiction on a story site. He looked up at Tait trying to hide his apprehension - Tait didn’t seem to notice, but… then his father moved to sit on the couch. Kane tried to hide his panic… Oh fuck, Fuck, FUCK. His father signaled for him to sit next to him on the couch. Tait didn’t seem to be giving off any other vibe than what he did at the door, but what if he saw, what if he knew. What if - No, play it cool until I can't. Like with Lacey. If he asks just a weird porn he was gonna shut off- Tait interrupted Kane’s spiraling thoughts by looking into his son’s eyes in an odd way - a way that no one except an uberhuman like his father was capable of. Like his father could look right into his soul, into the very thoughts in his brain. NoNoNoNoNo “Kane. I am not gonna bullshit you. I think you know I am here for a reason right?” Kane slowly nodded. He must have seen, Kane thought. Kane blew out a breath as he waited for the Sword of Tait Damocles to fall. “Son, I got a call from your golf coach - or is he still your golf coach at this point? Matty, he is worried sick about you. He told me all of a sudden you’ve become a shut-in. There is talk of dropping you from the tour. And then I come here and I see you acting like you did at lunch. How you look sitting here right now. It’s like life itself has been drained from you. You tried to hide it at lunch, but I know you too well. I don't know what but I can see it all around you. “And then there is Lacey. Jesus Christ son - she is worried sick about you.” Kane flashed a bit of anger for a moment. He felt violated. By his girl of all people. He felt like Anakin Skywalker seeing Obi-Wan Kenobi standing in a doorway saying Let her go. And…it was an opening to gaslight his father away from the computer. “Dad, did you see her behind my back? What did she tell you?” he asked, letting the anger show. But it didn’t last, as Tait met that anger with his own MUCH more powerful version. “Matty, don’t start. Because you are doing the one thing that I will not accept. The thing that will torpedo your whole life. The thing I did to your mother. Taking Lacey for granted. I don’t care what you do or don’t learn from me but that is ONE THING -” Tait took a breath, calmed slightly. But just slightly. “She reached out to me because she is desperate. Not because she hates you or is attracted to me. SHE LOVES YOU BOY!! She begged my pardon for lunch. She was scared she scared me away from trying to help you. “But damn it, Son… She is gonna leave you. She doesn’t want to. Fuck boy, she loves you maybe even more than Jess loved me. She loves you every bit as much and more as I have ever seen any woman love a man. But - if you keep treating her like this, she is going to leave you. For her own sanity, and if you don't see it, you're pushing her to it. “What did she tell me? She begged me for help. Help for you. She doesn’t have a clue what is happening. But you… Matty, you don’t even touch her. And she is too much like your mother - she will not just sit here and wither away. You got damned lucky to have a superior woman love you. A great career. And a heart and soul ANY man would envy having at his side. I sure as fuck envy you in that. But you’re gonna blow it all - You changed… in a minute. She said like you're possessed by a demon that isn't the man she met. I care about you both way too much to just let this fall apart for the two of you without a fight.” Kane almost scoffed. “Why do you want to fight for me Dad? Why?” “Because I LOVE YOU.” “Really Dad? You didn't look much like you loved me or wanted to fight for me when you were letting Lacey feel you up. Looked like you were fighting for you.” Tait’s eyes flashed again. But it wasn't with anger. Not this time. It was pain. Few people knew how to truly hurt him. One of them sat in this room and just did. “Everything I've ever done was for you and your mother. Everything. And that… that was fucking stupid of me and I'm sorry Son. So is she… She hadn't touched a man in months. And me…” Tait took a huge breath as he looked away. “You wanna know why I became a psychiatrist. Really know? Really want to know why I stopped playing football when I could have made a hundred million more and become a legend? Just one reason. One.” Tait’s low, usually soothing voice morphed before Kane’s ears into something he had never heard before. Ever. He had heard his father from happiness to anger to sadness to anguish… but he had never heard pain-driven rage. Barely controlled rage. Rage at the world or God or fate for taking her before her time. His fathers voice was now a terrifying low growl. Kane had a split second flash that the only people who might hear this sound would be someone who had hurt or killed him or his grandparents. Kane became afraid of his father hearing the growl - that his attempt to divert had veered into this… a monster he hoped he would live to never see again. “I - promised - your - mother. That's why. I - promised - your - mother - on - her - grave...” Tait’s anger became so strong that his eyes misted as he remembered. That grave just a few miles away. The giant man kneeling there on the fresh earth. His words became even colder, deliberate. So strong, frightening that Kane almost pulled back into a ball, ready to try and run. Tait's eyes drilled into his son’s. “I promised her AND you kneeling on that… that fucking coffin that I would do anything, give up anything. Whatever it took so that you would not lose another parent's love. That I would love you enough for the both of us. That you'd feel her even if she wasn't… wasn't there. “I promised her that I would help you through it all. Only… I looked at you and I didnt know how. I DIDNT KNOW HOW. For the only time in my life, I didn't have a clue how to start helping myself. Much less you. But that was my last promise to her and by heaven or earth or hell itself, I was gonna keep that promise. “So… I quit. I did what I was going to do when your mother became pregnant. I quit and I turned to the one thing I could think of that would help me learn how to help you, Matty. That's why. I changed my whole life for you. I stopped letting my body take that kind of beating. I went back to college as some famous pro-baller. I ducked and hid and did more than I'll ever let on to even you… Just because I needed to help you. You are the best thing I ever did. You're the piece of her that will go on. And I did learn to help - I think I did, at least when it comes to mental health. Even if I messed up with you sometimes. I dedicated whatever time and resources I had left to me to protect and help you. I told you all your life - I take care of what's mine. And you're MY son… “And after all that, you think I'd want to steal away your girl? Really? After all these years you think I'm not capable of finding a woman on my own without going after yours? That I'd violate the rule I live by that means the most to me? If so… then I totally fucked up the only think left of her that I could ever do. And I guess you could take some satisfaction that you broke me when not even your mom dying could…” Kane looked totally ashamed. He had no idea… how and why his father had changed his life. He looked up at Tait, the anger breaking. “I didn't know, Dad. I didn't realize...” “I know you didn't, Matty. I never intended to tell you. It was just… I hoped you knew how much I loved you anyway without the why’s like that. Everyone else seems to know. Everyone I work with. The family. Even Lacey could see it and we just met face to face. I'm… I'm just not that good at showing YOU how much I love you. It's how a man is with his son. Don't forget that I’m an only son too. The only son of a very successful man and grandson of another. Just like you. You may not think it, but I know what it's like to be you. In all the ways that matter anyway. You'll understand with your own kids one day that fathers - when it comes to our boys we don't always show love by what we say to you. We will dote all over our girls. But our sons… We show love to them by what we do for you and with you - things that you see sometimes but other times we show our love by things you never see. Just like - Son I know you're Kane and that's the name you use but right now, in times like this, you're Matty to me and always will be. Tait took another deep breath… Time for another confession. “Son, you have your golf coach because of me, at least indirectly. I called him about you. Call it using my position as an unfair influence if you want. Maybe it is. But I love you and when you showed your talent, I wanted to do what I could. Now before you get too angry, I didn't pay him off to make him take you on or anything like that. “Remember when you were having a hard time finding a coach that could work with your schedule just before you graduated?” Kane nodded. It was the devil to fund a coach who could fit him in. “I was just gonna ask him for some names that I could give you of coaches you could look into. Someone you might have missed. But, when I asked, he chose to come and evaluate you himself and saw your talent and he chose to take you on. You did it with your own talent. It was all you - don't ever doubt that. It just started out as me asking someone you couldn't contact for help. To help my son. I just wanted to use the people I know to give you some names to help and there you go. “And now, I want to help you and Lacey. Help you both with what I KNOW about. “Matty, I loved Jess more than you can possibly know and that I can never explain. Will never even try. Same as Lacey looks when she thinks about you and the confusion and pain she is in right now. Told you… she reminds me of Jess more than you know. I know you never believed that from the attention I got and keep getting from women. You were around enough as a kid to see how some athletes lived with the attention. Saw it in college too when you were there I suspect. But I really would have given up everything for her and you. Gone back to the ranch and never even lifted a weight outside of calves and feed if she asked me. But she said no. “YOU - Son, you are the very last piece of her I have. I promised her when we got married that I would fight for her and you. I can’t fight for her anymore except through you. And to see you — you actually have the chance to know and feel with Lacey what I felt with Jess. I want you to understand that feeling - this feeling. More than anything. Having it for just one day is something you can't imagine, and I had it for almost 10 years. And even with how much I miss her everyday - everyday with that missing her was worth it. Still is. I've dated, tried. More than a few since I got out of residency. But no one comes close to Jess. But your chance now. To know the only woman I've met since your mother who does come close. And she wants you. And it’s dying - and it's like you don’t even care. “LET ME HELP YOU MATTY. Let's fight for this OK? Let's fight together so you can be who you are and be happy. If that is with Lacey or without OK. But don't look back and regret that you don't have her because you didnt fight for what you have.” Kane’s cheeks were wet now, trying hard to control open sobs. His father hadn't talked to him like this since his mother died. And it didn't make sense then. He just remembered it. How strong his father was trying to be for him… Strong. He saw it in his mind’s eye for a second. The whole hours-long event flashes before his eyes in vivid detail before he could stop it. The man at the gym, what the man said… what he did. What Kane felt and did and said… NONONONONONO. Kane’s walls fell. He forgot about whether his dad saw. The dam began to break, “Oh God, Dad… I don’t know. I truly don’t know. I'm sorry.” Kane was perfectly honest and he lied at the same time. He answered questions and replied to revelations spoken and asked and unspoken. He understood. He knew, but at the same time, he didn’t know. It didn’t make sense, but it did. It - the MAN - Lacey… it was so reprehensible but felt so good. “It’s just.. Aw fuck it.” Kane let loose with an open sob. “Everything is so messed up Dad. Everything feels so wrong. I want what you just said you had with mom. More than anything. I love Lacey with all my heart but…” Kane trailed off as voice fully turned into sobs. Tait reached out and immediately pulled his son into a massive embrace. He felt his son immediately go limp in his arms. Just like he had when he was a little boy. Just like Lacey had. Just like Jess had when she told him she was expecting. Jesus, Tait thought. He is fighting… something. Fighting it so hard. No wonder he is withdrawn. Is it what I – Kane had tried to hide it, but he caught just a glimpse. That website he was reading. That is a HUGE leap to take but… Tait hadn’t thought anything of it at first. Everyone reads some risque stuff from time to time. But, what if it is WAY more than curiosity. OH SHIT. Tait tightened his grip, pulling his son in closer. It was instinct - his promise to Jess and to his little boy the very first time he held him in his arms. He wanted to protect him. He promised— Tait felt Kane’s hands – FEEL him. For a split second. That wasn’t what hands do in a hug. At least a normal hug. That was like - that was like how Lacey felt him when she hugged him. Not nearly as long, not in a sexual way. But those hands were FEELING him nonetheless. Like - his son needed to feel his strength for some reason. Could THAT really be the reason? Surely not. Surely, he would have noticed that by now. At least some tell or some indication, but there wasn’t. Never had been. Or maybe he had been blind to it all along. No wonder Kane was messed up though if it was THAT. Still holding his son, Tait said, “Go on, Son. You can tell me anything at all. No matter what it is, you know I will never think less of you. Never.” Kane pulled his head back and looked up at his father. “I can’t. I don't know Dad. You might-” “Stop it Son. I have always accepted you. No matter what. Go on.” Kane blew out a breath. “PLEASE - don’t tell Lacey any of this.” “You have my word, Son. And you know what that means to me. Privately and professionally. Especially now.” Kane looked into his fathers eyes with agony across his face. Terror. About so many things. “I love Lacey, Dad. I really do - but… there is this feeling I have found. I can't even put a word to it. I don’t know what it means. I am trying so hard but… Dad, it scares me to try and put words to it. That makes it real. It is real but maybe if I never name it it isn't truly real. I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know how to even tell you what it is. It's like trying to tell someone blind what blue is. I just don't know. And I am scared of what it means if I ever can. It changes everything about me. It is so new… but it is so old. Dad, I don’t know if I am strong enough to face it. Everything it can mean.” Tait pulled back from the hug and let his son go, gently setting him down close beside him. “It’s OK. Matty. Profound changes, if this is what this is, can be scary. Crazy scary. But, if you are willing, I want to sit down with you and take this journey with you. To help you figure this out. Help you get on the right track - no matter what that track is. One baby step at a time if it takes it. “Son, I am going to be totally honest with you about what Lacery asked. Lacey has asked for and accepted the same offer I just made you.” Kane almost voiced something but Tait continued, “I know what you are going to say. That I can’t be your doctor. It is unethical. Let me finish. I can’t practice with my family, that's true. I will tell you what I told Lacey - this is not a doctor-patient relationship. This is me - your father - helping my son. Just like I am Lacey’s future father-in-law and friend helping her. Yes, I am trained as a doctor and there are some things that I will bring from my training and experience into this if you accept. On the other hand, since this is not medical care, there will be some things that I will not do, and there will be some things that I would never do with a patient that I will feel free to do with you if we need to. Things that sometimes would make things go so much quicker and better. “But, confronting this truth will only change my feelings about you in one way. Accepting difficult truths will only make me respect you more, not less. Love you more, not less. Always remember that. OK?” Kane thought and measured for a moment. But then he slowly nodded, “OK, Dad. I trust you when you give your word not to tell her. I just want to do this when Lacey isn’t around. Like now.” “Deal. Easily done. That is what will happen for both of you. This is as individuals UNLESS both of you agree to do something together. And even then you will share with her and vice versa. I will never share what you share with me without express permission, and only then what you tell me. Just like she told me I could tell you that I'd be helping her if I thought it might help you. And I also give you my word - I will stay in San Francisco as long as it takes to help you both. In fact, if you both are willing, I will check out of the hotel and stay in your guest room in the basement for a while. Privacy when you two need it, but right here when either or both of you need it. What do you say?” A hint of a smile came across Kane’s face. “As long as Lacey says it is OK, and we have that guarantee of privacy if we need it… then, OK Dad. I am willing But we need to ask her.” “Alright son. I am looking forward to it. We will start our sessions together as soon as we want.” Tait decided to push the conversation in a certain direction… just a hint, to see if what he saw on the website Kane had open was possibly related. “When you said you didn’t know if you were strong enough to face it. If it is a help, I think you are. You are stronger than you ever suspect. That being said, if you need to lean into me for a while…” Tait then held up his massive right arm and flexed it. “I think I am strong enough to handle it for both of us for a while. I said I would give you a closer look when we had lunch and I did it for Lacey. She is a girl and that's kind of important, but she barely knows me. You've known me all your life. What do you think?” Kane’s jaw dropped as a mound that looked the size he imagined Everest must look like exploded into existence. No - not Everest - the fucking Matterhorn. It is so big and peaked and strong and… his father really did make the man at the gym look like a fucking dwarf. Which must make me look… positively weak and miniscule and pathetic and… Kane remembered at that moment a vivid image and feeling of looking up from waist high to this powering figure of a god. Like a comic book superhero. And the man was looking down at him… smirking. Shit, So big and strong… At that moment, Kane remembered when his father called him his little man. And - something inside him, then as now, kind of liked it. Tait used his skills to examine his son closely. Several emotions were crossing Kane’s face - not all of them simply shock at his new muscularity. He didn’t know precisely what those emotions were - they were a mess of a mixed, twisted jumble of conflict, that much was clear. But, in a split second, Kane tried to bury them… but they were still not quite gone. “Ahhhh…. Ya…. Dad. You were always pretty big and strong. I guess you still are.” Then Kane did something neither he nor Tait ever thought would happen until that moment. Kane’s hand flew forward and rested on the giant rock of living granite - much as Lacey’s hand had earlier in the week. Feeling. “But I don’t ever remember you being this…” Kane’s voice lilted just for a moment before he said almost in a whisper, “this big and strong.” Tait pressed on just a bit more. “Thank you, little man. I for sure am trying to be. Go ahead, maybe you can judge for me if I am improving the way I think I am while I am here. Be my biased, unbiased eye on my growth. I will help you grow in answering this question and you can help me grow too. Maybe a little more literally but still growing. But you know I am reminded of something. Keep your hand right there for a minute.” Tait began to flex and unflex his arm under Kane’s hand. Up… down. Rock… not. Power… softer. There was a flash of a dreamy expression, almost a slight hypnosis. Kane was utterly taken in by what his senses were telling him. “That’s it. Just like that. You remember when you were wrestling. Did you or one of your opponents or teammates ever get hard during a match or at practice? You remember?” There was a moment of shock on Kane’s face, but it faded as quickly as it was there. His mind focused on his father’s arm, watching. For a second he focused on his dick. Was he hard… like he was with the man at the gym? His body told him no, he wasn’t. He had not given it away. The traditional blocks about such things with his father, thankfully, were still there. Kane tried to pull his hand away, but Tait raised his free hand and forced Kane to keep feeling. “No son, keep feeling and answer the question. There is a reason I asked.” Kane then answered, “Ya Dad, it didn’t happen a lot but it did happen several times… both to me and guys I know and saw in matches.” “I know Son. Now, let me ask, did that response mean that those guys were gay or bi? No, it didn’t. Almost all the time, such a thing is simply a physiological response to close contact or touching. Or with some it means that they were excited by dominating an opponent… or you and putting that little ass of yours in its place. OR maybe you felt it putting someone else's ass in their place.” Tait then looked down at Kane. “Son, our feelings are NEVER cut and dry. In that way they are like bodybuilding and powerlifting. Sometimes, our feelings are exactly as they seem. Sometimes that bodybuilder really is as strong as he looks. Like I hope I am.” Tait smiled. “But just as often, if not most of the time, those feelings actually point to something entirely different than what the surface seems like or what society might say they mean. “Just like that wrestler who gets hard might be gay, or he might be straight as an arrow, but loves dominating an opponent and the physical stimulation it takes to work your will on a mat. Just like there are many bodybuilders who are weak as fuck though they are huge, and there are powerlifters who are your size who are twice as strong as guys who outmass them by 80 pounds or more. “Whatever it is you are feeling. Whatever we find it means… if it is easy or it is something huge and hard and difficult to overpower that hasn’t even occurred to you yet. You and I are as strong as the strongest muscle - and together we will be even stronger as we face it. OK little man?” Kane was so relieved, as if his father had lifted off the too heavy bar the man had lifted off him at the gym that day… when he failed. He dove toward his father’s exposed pecs and as best as he could he hugged them - and their giant owner. He had not even entertained the idea that what he felt and went through that day with the gym man could mean something totally different than what the internet said it did. That maybe it meant something different… and that his giant of a man of a father would be willing to face it with him. That maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t alone. Lacey wouldn’t understand - how could she - but his father just might and he might help her understand. Maybe it wasn't the end of everything… “Thanks Dad. Thanks for helping me and for facing it with me.” “Always son. Always. You never have to thank me for being there with you. No matter what. Like I said, you are my son and I love you. You may be a grown man, but you’ll also always be my little man. Yes, you are Kane, but you'll always be Matty too. It is a grown man’s job to be strong and to be there for the people he loves. We will be strong for each other and for Lacey when the time comes. I love you kiddo.” For several minutes, Tait and Kane kept sharing the moment - a moment they had not shared since Jess’s death. Loving each other, Kane again learning he could lean into the giant man and he could hold him up. That the giant man would face the world with him - no matter how different they were. And that Lacey might… just might… face it with him too. He wasn't alone anymore. As the hug between father and son went on, the wheels in Tait’s mind were turning. Several times now, he felt Kane’s hands feel him - as if in reassurance. It was not a mistake or isolated incident that he had felt earlier. So strange … so much like Lacey had been when she was feeling his muscles for strength and security. Both of them needed a man’s strength in their lives right now. A proper man. The sort of man his father and grandfather and Jess taught him how to be. The reasons behind that need from both were different to be sure, but they both were in dire need of a man. They both felt so out of control. He could tell. They needed someone to help them feel in control. He was more than enough man for the both of them for all they needed. When the hug pulled back, Tait knew he needed to offer Kane a way out and to be comfortable with what he shared. Another assurance that their relationship hadn't changed except for the better. So he offered that in a way he often did - humor. “Now, little man. I know you are strong but -” Tait reached down, lifted his tank top up and revealed a truly monumental, etched deep wall of abs. Then he pulled back his fist and leveled it into the bricks with a terrifying smash… which only resulted in a loud thwack against the horrifically strong brick wall, “ever think you’ll be THIS strong???” Kane looked disgusted, amazed, and grateful at the same time. That smash would have broken bones on someone else. Kane, however, let loose a broad smile. He took his little hand and gently patted the warm granite bricks. “Fuck you, old man.” Tait chuckled, “Always nice to have goals in life you can never reach. But keep trying Champ.” Tait smiled more widely. “Got anything besides that soda? Growing muscle requires a little better food and I'm starving.” “I can see those abs aren't going to last long at this rate…” *** Lacey’s phone lit up with a text while she was at the park with her friends. Tait: Lacey. We need to speak in person at your earliest convenience. There is something about Kane that I need to share with you - concerning helping him and you too. Things went quite well, I think. But please let me know when I can pick you up - an evening before dinner would be best considering the discussion that needs to be had. Lacey’s reaction was instant.. Lacey: I can do this evening if it will help Kane. He is accustomed to me having dinner with my friends on Sunday before I come home. Can I meet you in the lobby of your hotel at 6 pm? Tait: Fantastic. That is perfect. I will be waiting. Please erase this interchange on your phone. I will send something about you both coming to the 49er’s gym with me in a few moments. The text is true and something we will talk about tonight. But - as part of what Kane needs, he cannot know about this meeting and what we will discuss. Not until it is time to reveal it. See you this evening. Lacey did as she was told and erased the interchange. And sure enough, less than 30 seconds later, Tait had texted about times to meet for them to go to the gym together - a joint message between her and Kane and Tait asking about times. They shortly arranged a time of 11 am the next morning. As long as Kane did not look too closely at a cellphone bill, this interchange would explain messaging between them… That evening just before six, a beautiful young woman came into the lobby of the Four Seasons. She was in casualwear - jeans and a nice blouse, but she was an absolute knockout. A lot of men looked and several contemplated walking up to her - until the giant muscle model fellow who had been staying at the hotel that weekend came up to her. The pair seemed to go together like peanut butter and jelly everyone thought. Of course the rugged man’s man would have such a woman at his side… none of them ever considered that this was a father-in-law and daughter-in-law when Tait leaned down and kissed Lacey's hand as usual. The entire lobby was quite sure… that was only for public consumption until there were more fireworks later. Tait led Lacey up the bank of elevators that led to his suite. As soon as the door closed she was quite intent - “What's wrong with Kane, Tait? I have to know.” Tait smiled, “I don't get the direct approach that much. It's something I appreciate. You might want to sit down when we get to the room first. I promise - I don't think it's life-threatening.” Tait brought Lacey to a set of rooms she was sure had to be more appointed for one of her father’s banking clients or the very wealthy than for someone normal enough to stay here. Once the door was opened, he led her inside, guided her to the very nice couch in the living area, and sat next to her. Then Tait began, “Well the good news is that Matty agreed to work with me the same way you are. The bad news, that wasn't unexpected, was that he was totally tight-lipped about exactly what he is going through.” Lacey immediately looked deflated and the glint of tears just began to highlight her eyes. Tait immediately reached over and took her hand. “No, no. No reason for tears. I know my son. We talked for a long while and the fact is… I have an idea. Like you, he asked that I not share some things and of course I will do that unless his safety is threatened. But we wer3 able to share some things and I hope over time he will truly open up to me from his own mouth. “Now, that said, I need to test to see if my hunch is right. But if it is what I suspect… Lacey, I don't mean to put you on the spot. But, I'll need your help with this. With Matty's version of therapy. Just like you finding out a bit more about who you are, we are going to help Matty do the same thing. For you - it will mostly be a solo thing. You and I talking, exploring of course. But mostly for you, this is a path you'll navigate yourself. You're ready for that. “Matty, though, is different. For him, It will take both of us. And some things that will seem quite… odd.” Lacey looked perplexed. But Tait patted her hand, “Don't worry. I'll explain everything we will be doing over dinner. And I really think doing this will help you as well. “But I want you to understand. You may come to view Kane very differently when we are finished. Like sometimes I see him as Kane, but sometimes it’s Matty. As he may view both you and me differently. What we need to do… Well it is a bit of a risk. Like I said, I'll explain. But if it goes as I think - both of you may be so different that your relationship as you know it might end. Not that your relationship will end, don't misunderstand. Rather I think you'll build a new, much healthier one for you. “Can you be prepared for that? Lacey took a breath. “I guess I don't have a choice do I? At least this way there is a chance we can stay together. If it keeps going the way it is… There isn't any hope. You've already helped me see that. I love Kane. I want to be with Kane. But if I have to go - either for myself or for him…. I guess I will. Tait beamed down at her. “You really are an amazing woman. But let's look at this as a positive. Matty said the almost exact same words to me. He loves you. And he wants you to be happy more than anything. And he wants you to work. Now, what I'm planning for us to do, all you have to do is be who you naturally are. You have a natural dominant personality that will work very well for this.” “Dominant personality? Lacey asked. Tait laughed, “As they say, it takes one to know one, even if you don't fully grasp that part of yourself yet. Part of your self-discovery is making peace and embracing the dominant personality inside you. I certainly had to, and I will help you. Thing is - society loves dominant men but sort of frowns on dominant women. But me… I am quite comfortable around women like you. So no matter what kickback you might see, just know that with me, I want YOU and YOU - and Matty will need it. “Now, just think. Two dominant personalities with the same goal? Nothing in this world stands a chance against us.” “Tait, why are you calling Kane Matty again?” Tait looked a bit sheepish. “Today's talk of a long time ago. Like I said, sometimes he is Kane to me and sometimes Matty. And, I have other reasons. I’ll share, but it's quite intentional. Now, one last thing before dinner and we get down to nuts and bolts. “Because of that natural affinity between us, and what you and I will do where Matty is concerned, you and I will bond in a way that you won’t with him. We have to make sure he isn't jealous of that… except when we want him to be. Because his bond with you and his bond with me will be just as unique. OK? Lacey smiled. “Wow, can you make a girl curious? OK. I'll do my best. But if you and I are dominant… I notice you left out Kane. How does he fit?” “Ah now that is a question. I don't know. But that question goes into the first thing we are going to do to him. It is going to require something he doesn't have large stores of these days. Patience.” Tait opened the door to his room and invited Lacey to again take his arm as they had earlier that week in the park. They walked arm in arm toward the elevator, the restaurant, and their meal. “But your personality and mine are not known for our patience either. Playing ball made me patient. Which brings me to you. Other than our talking, I thought that our first steps in therapy for you might be a very practical one. The invitation to the gym - if you are willing, I don't want to just take you to the 49ers facility. While I am in town I'd like to train you in the gym personally one on one.” They stepped into the elevator and the door closed. “As a cheerleader you know that learning the balance skills, the lifting skills, the choreography of cheers takes quite a while and patience. Building a body is the same. You look incredible, but there is always a new method of training to learn. I'd like to teach that to you and see if you gain things from it… Including patience and some things that might help Matty along the way. As a very practical matter, if I need to change things with what we are doing with Matty the gym alone gives us time to do so. Besides…” Tait smiled and rippled his pecs through his shirt and the effect on Lacey was instant… another hint of what Tait had hidden behind his shirt as what looked in his full glory moved at his whim. “I think I have some skill and knowledge to pass on in that area. Not only in building men's bodies but women's too. What do you say?” Lacey smiled immensely. “I'd LOVE it, Tait. Kane and I used to work out together sometimes… But he doesn't anymore. Little by himself and none with me. We bonded and got so much closer… I miss it.” “Well then, we will make him see just what he is missing. Maybe seeing both of us change will help motivate him to get back. He agreed to help me keep a check on my progress and I intend to hold him to it. And maybe your progress too. We are certainly going to work on his motivation.” Tait smiled broadly as they went to Tait's vehicle. He helped Lacey in and then went to the driver's seat. He cranked the vehicle and began, “Alright. Let me share first what we are going to do with Matty. It is a version of something called exposure therapy. It is usually done with someone who has particular kinds of anxiety or PTSD. WhIle I'm not certain he has that, he certainly shows some signs. And this modification will serve us in other ways …” *** “The Boss isn’t going to like this, Doctor Holden.” James, Tait’s New York office manager, said over the phone. James was a good man about ten years younger than Tait, who suffered an injury that had taken him out of organized sports well before his time. Among many things, James had the guts to stand up to him when he needed to. It was rare for Tait to find in another man, and Tait had helped cultivate it when he found it. Besides, like it or lump it, having a man on the other end of the phone with league officials always seemed to cut some of the red tape. James would often get a lot less flack than his personal secretary when she placed a call over the same exact issue. Maybe someday things in the league might be different… Tait laughed over his cellphone. “Come on. I can be extremely persuasive.” “How well I know. You conned me into working for you, after all. Are you sure about the time?” “Conned? Tell that to your wife.” “Ouch. Low blow.” Both laughed. The pair shared an unspoken double meaning, a secret both shared. “But in all seriousness, I am not exactly sure on the time I need. May be finished sooner, or it may take more time. Depends on how things go. But, I have the time off stored up. Roger knows I will not take no for an answer when it comes to my family. My son and daughter-in-law have a personal issue, and I WILL help them deal with it. He can tell the owners that too. Or I will. “I’ll be available if there is some real need, just like when I go to the cabin. I'm sure the Niners will allow me to use office facilities if necessary, and I will buy tickets out of my own bank account to get anyone truly necessary here if I need to do an in-person interview. It means that much to me. No different than a normal year. Just that my time off is going to start earlier.” “I doubt the Commissioner will risk the wrath of the Union and half the owners not to do things the way you want, Doctor Holden. Would you want an unnecessary call from Jerry Jones or the Haslams?” Tait chuckled again, “What do you mean? I love getting calls from Jerry.” Both laughed at that one. “I have the letter for the Commissioner and your forms ready for you. Should be in your email for your signature in a few minutes. See you at the cabin in August, Doctor. And – Good Luck. You and Kane deserve a good break.” “Thank you. I’ll be in touch as I need things. And if you need anything special besides–” “You know we will have to run that old Triple Tight End play you are accustomed to before the summer is out.” Tait laughed. “Of course. You're welcome to bring her to our little Montana work retreat like always. The creek is always perfect for swimming and fresh fish. Just tell her I'll have had all summer to grow even bigger. It will have been a few months since I will have seen either of you.” Tait snickered over the phone “Remember when she insisted on measuring my arm and it turned out it really is bigger around than your head? Just think… EVEN BIGGER. Have to give you more gym time to keep up, Jimmy.” Then, he said, “Alright. Enough fun. Now get to it… little man.” *** Triple Tight End. It was code between him and James and James’ wife Janet. Stanford was famous for running the triple tight end and quad tight end formations as an offense. Stanford was often called Tight End U around football. Tait had run plays of that design more times than he could count. No one could question it in context… And it meant exactly what it was intended to imply, except when James or Janet said it to him. James had come to Tait’s attention during his last year of med school. As an advanced student. Tait had been asked to take several cases for his own in a very supervised forum. Given Tait’s history and that James had been until the month prior a Stanford scholarship football player, the fit was expected to be a natural. James had done many things for Tait. Their sessions had given the clue that working with athletes was where Tait had a true gift, above and beyond his gift at psychiatry. He had worked with James on a wide scope of issues in those first months together. James was the one and only time where Tait had ever crossed professional boundaries with a patient and had allowed that relationship to become intensely personal. It taught Tait many things about himself, and how to keep detachment, though he never did with James or Janet again. In his interviews, James had voiced sexual concerns in his relationship with his wife. Sexual counsel wasn’t anything new. He had found a lot of players had issues with their significant others being on the road and the time needed. He had had it himself. And after such a significant injury, where self-confidence and physical injury could lead to dysfunction, it became a topic Tait had helped James with at some length. And, as part of this, Tait had occasionally invited Janet along with James into the office for couples therapy when James allowed… and it began there. It was slow, of course. Both of them voiced the tensions to Tait and to each other as their comfort levels grew. Turned out that while everything was there for a healthy sexual relationship, both felt like something was missing. But, neither was sharing what it was, if they understood it themselves. Tait had no idea just how far this missing thing went until one night over a month. A group of senior med school students were out for a dinner party. And while Tait was ALWAYS noticeable wherever he went, the place was very crowded with a large number of boisterous students among the other regular restaurant patrons. The initial gasps around Tait had long subsided and he had gained enough anonymity to enjoy his meal, when his eye happened to land on a familiar face. Janet. She was alone - or he thought so at first until he saw the man sitting at the intimate booth along with her. The man she was with was so different than James - much more like Tait. Tait could feel it. Though the man was quite a bit smaller than James in spirit he was very take charge, dominant. Tait tried to watch where he could and he noted some sexual looks. Body language. Was it an affair? Was that the issue? An issue James didn't know but felt? It was not Tait’s place to inform James, as much as he might have liked to. But he used the information in his sessions with James, seeing that James was different around the topic of intimacy. All the pieces fell into place another night in mid-January of his last semester. This time, he was at a rather raucous club where one of the football graduate assistant staff was having a bachelor party. Tait was invited this time, as was James and Janet. Everyone was there, introductions were made. The usual. But Tait didn't want to draw too much attention as sometimes social gatherings together made patients feel awkward. The party was in full swing and Tait was moving toward the bar for a drink when he noticed a nondescript, metal side door. A side door with a rather large doorman in front of it. As Tait looked on in curiosity as fate had it, he saw James and Janet with a small bag at that door. They quietly showed something to the doorman and he allowed them into what looked like a stairwell that led down. It was their body language, and curiosity, that led Tait to want to know what was behind that door and down those stairs. It was just… odd. So he went up to the doorman and looked down at him. The doorman, feeling tiny for the first time in years said, “Well fuck me. Someone hit the damned motherlode. I take it you are here for someone?” Tait pressed his luck and said James and Janet’s names. His eyes got wider still. “Oh, them. They just went down. No need to see an ID for you… SIR '' The doorman opened the locked knob and permitted Tait entrance but the way he said SIR. It was… odd. Again. If you had told Tait what was at the bottom of that stair, he never would have gone down. And he would have never discovered this world. Until that night, such things had only been the butt of locker room taunts and legend in his world. There were some references in his sexual psychology classes of this. But that was all. Before Tait stretched a smaller bar. A dark bar with music and decorations and implements. On a couple of televisions, Dominance BDSM porn played. Tait’s eyes were wide when he noticed and the noise of the bar stopped. James and Janet looked up - now dressed in a much more revealing fashion. Janet in all black, James in white with a chain and small lock around his neck. It was then that Tait noticed everyone was in some form of black or black and white. And as usual he was in comfortable but slightly revealing club clothes… all black. “Oh my God. Oh, no.” Both said in unison. They ran up to the giant muscle man who looked like both the patron saint of this place and also like a fish out of water. The pair were shocked at first - and angry. They were furious at Tait for following them and prying where he did not belong until it became very clear that Tait didn't have a clue what this place was or what they were really doing there. Then they looked at each other, “Doctor Holden… Tait…I… I guess we should explain.” James said. James and Janet invited him into a private sort of room with a bed and various items. On the bed, what Tait came to know later was called a “gimp suit.” And also in the room was a man - dressed in black. Much smaller but in black and well toned. Perhaps a rock climber or yoga instructor. He definitely had the outline of abs through his black get up. The man Tait didn't know looked terrified of Tait. That this had become some sort of victimization with a man who could gently break them all without himself shedding one drop of sweat. It was then that Tait remembered - he was the man he had seen Janet out with that night alone. “It’s OK, Tom. Please stay.” Janet said. Then James chimed in, “This is… i hope will still be a friend, Sir. And we need to explain.” James and Janet finally began to explain the missing piece Tait never grasped. James and Janet were in a Dominance/submission sexual relationship. While James was normally quite the dominant sort of fellow, he had a massive fetish for being submissive in the bedroom. And Janet, his opposite number, got off on being in control over James with another dominant man. That was Tom. He was their bull, in the language. Over the evening no sex was had but everything was explained to Tait, who found himself curious, despite how foreign the desire was to him. Tait was a very dominant man and enjoyed being so in every aspect. James apologized and said he never should have gotten past the doorman when Tom laughed and said - “Look at HIM. Would you tell the God of all Dominant men "No" at that door? I mean… I met Janet at the gym and things went from there. But how he is dressed and - Tait was it - may I ask for you to hold up your arm?” Tait didn't put much into it but he did. “Jesus fucking Christ - tell HIM and that body no. Here?!?” They stayed until last call. And after that… Tait became curious. How did this world work? He began to read and found it oddly fascinating. He found scholarly literature on the subject from someone named Guy Baldwin. He could understand at least some of the appeal to a dominant personality. One who liked being in control like he did. There was the allure of the taboo for sure. And slowly, as Tait gained James and Janet's trust, they began to share with him from more than just an introductory or academic point of view. Just one home visit at first - and that became two and then three. James began to call him SIR. Janet explained and invited Tait in. Tait saw James transformed into a subservient beta bitch. And Tait found… He liked taking control of James when invited. Not sexual contact, just control of a very intimate sort of way. Within a year, Tait took control of them both… and he became their bull. James submitted to him and revealed himself as a cuck. James sat to the side and watched Tait and Janet - and as the barriers dropped, both began to almost worship him as that patron saint they spoke of that night at the bar. Tait kept this to just these two, but found the relationship both curious and strangely exhilarating. Janet was so verbal - talking about how much bigger, stronger, how much better at sex Tait was than James. How much bigger his tool was. How much more Tait could make her orgasm. And he had to admit James' tiny dick - while a bit above average he knew - was nothing compared to his. Well before he had ever seen it, Janet pointed out James’ hard dick through his jeans. Tait -in a little more locker room fun - smiled and winked and pressed his own jeans around his purely flaccid member and James gasped… and withered a bit. They knew EXACTLY who was the MAN and who wasn't between them. Tait thought that belittling a man would bother him. But Tait saw that James CRAVED what she was saying. What she was doing. And what he did to him. So, Tait naturally began to engage too. Lording over and belittling “little Jimmy” as Tait now called him behind closed doors, like hyperactive locker room banter. He found he rather enjoyed the control over the pair. Both of them wanted it, and Tait - Tait slowly learned to deliver that dominance. He became SUPREMELY good at it. He shaped them - shaped them both in the bedroom and out. He shaped James to become what seemed to most to be an Alpha male. James stood up to everyone - just as he did now as Tait’s office manager. But with those words - Triple Tight End - Jimmy collapsed into a submissive cuck, almost a male slave to Tait’s whims. And Janet - Janet craved so much what Tait gave her. Over the years, Tait found that women like Jess and Lacey - who were actually instinctively attracted to the kind of veiny huge bodybuilder muscle he had was rare. Even if they were attracted to his height, an over 6’9” Frank Zane was scary to most. Not Janet though. Janet came to very nearly worship every muscle and compared them to James with him standing there whenever she could. She LOVED muscle worshiping Tait. So much so that full out sex in their encounters, while not uncommon, didn't happen nearly as often as compared to how much she loved his body and strength. And in return, Tait changed her into the take charge kind of woman James needed in his day to day life. She kept James going. The hole in their lives was filled. The couple’s love grew and flourished. But, they had both become dependent on Tait’s size and power and command and his cock… Though for Tait it wasn't love or proper female companionship with an equal like he loved. It was a fetish he really liked, but not love. Tait the Bull, Janet the dominant woman, and little Jimmy the cuck. No more or less. *** As good as his word, James had the documents in Tait's email box. Tait signed the forms and sent them up the chain. He had never asked for time off outside of his contract before. Not a single day of PTO. Now, he had just asked for two months off. But he had the time… and he was going to use it. As Tait drove back toward the hotel, he began to think. His little banter with James and the codewords and the memory of his first time dominating them. Why had he thought about that? It was that website he saw Matty was reading. It was a page about dominance and submission. A porn page, porn stories about it, but Tait read enough words before Matty shut it off to understand what it was. What Matty was saying, what he was feeling… Tait had no idea if Matty was thinking about the dominance or the submissive side. But the emotions, the conflict, the forbidden allure. If Matty had some feelings in that world - it could explain everything. And why he was so scared to share. Taboo subjects of a sexual nature that were frowned upon by society - though so many people had them. But few were able to express them. But, Tait had a plan. A plan to help both his son and future daughter-in-law - in more ways than one. He had helped James get his backbone in every way but one. Perhaps all of that experience with James and Janet was for a reason… Perhaps the apple was not that far from the tree.
    14 points
  24. PART 12 Moving his feet and taking his first steps, Barron felt the ground below him crack. He couldn’t see anything beneath his thick and meaty pecs, and he liked it that way. He didn’t what to know what damage he caused as his truck-sized feet tore down buildings and stomped on soldiers who stood there staring rather than run. I’m a giant, he thought. I’m an actual, fucking, muscle giant! I should be loving this… power… but why does it fucking terrify me? Barron attempted to tread carefully as he moved through the army base, but unfortunately for his troops, he was far from successful. Beneath his bare feet, he could feel the squishing and breaking of flesh and bones from the soldiers who refused to move without him giving the order. Lifting a heavily muscled leg while balancing on one foot, he stared at the dirt, rubble, and blood that now coated the sole. How many of the ones he had sworn to protect had he pulverized? How many more would there be as he grew even larger? He had done this. His body had done this. His pride had done this. Leaning over, Barron looked down at the remaining troops he hadn’t flattened. From his height, each soldier appeared to be only a foot tall, or less; all looking fragile as glass ornaments. Each rigidly at attention, waiting to carry out any order he gave. They were all useless drones now, not one of them able to think for themselves any longer. He hated what he had created. He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t crush them all and take them out of their misery, but he swiftly chased that thought from his mind. It was because of him that they were all in the state they were in, and now he needed to figure out a way to save and protect all that he could. He was their General. They believed in him. “LISTEN TO ME! I… COMMAND YOU… IN AN ORDERLY AND RESPECTFUL WAY… TO GET AS FAR AWAY FROM ME AS POSSIBLE. SAVE YOURSELVES!!” His deep rumble of a voice easily spread over the assembly of soldiers. A few, barely a handful, appeared to wake from whatever trance his scent had put them under, and looked around. Seeing the situation, they backed slowly away, obviously frightened, turned, and ran as quickly as they could. The rest remained motionless, staring straight ahead. “GO!! NOW!! I DEMAND IT!!!” Not one soldier altered their stance. “CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?? DON'T JUST STAND THERE LIKE IDIOTS!! RUN!! WHY THE FUCK ARENT YOU RUNNING??!!” As if on command, soldiers began to break rank, but instead of running away, they appeared to be moving towards him. Soon, as if pulled by a magnet, a mass migration began to flow towards Barron’s feet. Once they reached their goal, the troops proceeded to slowly begin to touch his feet… and then caress them… and then lick his immense feet. Like puppies, they crawled onto and over his feet, each one trying to get up higher and worship an area of his foot or leg that no one had gotten to before. “I SAID TO GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” Barron’s army kept coming, and quickly became more and more persistent and determined to worship him. He tried to dissuade them by gently pushing them out of the way with his feet, but not truly understanding how strong his body now was or how frustrated he was becoming, he instead kicked several, sending them flying with a loud splat into the sides of buildings. Even those messy deaths wouldn’t stop his remaining troops from crawling all over his feet. Instead, like bees, it appeared to arouse them even more, and soon, they were furiously swarming him. “WHY WON'T YOU ALL GO AWAY!!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU??!!” The ground beneath Barron had become a madhouse. Soldiers were mindlessly flocking to him in the hundreds, and those that couldn’t get close enough began to push and shove those that could. Fights broke out. Not one soldier was willing to concede to the other. Soon, his orderly army broke out into fighting, each punching, and attacking anyone that appeared to be getting a leg up on worshiping him. Suddenly, the stakes were raised as pandemonium turned deadly when several shots were fired. “DON’T DO THIS!! STOP!! HALT!!! LISTEN TO ME!!” Not one listened. Why wouldn’t they listen? Barron wanted to get as far away from his troops as possible. Maybe if he fled far away from the base, they’d stop. He went to make a move, but with people swarming erratically beneath him, he couldn’t figure out where he could step to cause the least amount of damage. There were simply too many of them and it was proving too difficult to move carefully with only having a limited view of the ground. No matter where he walked, he knew that he would pulverize a large portion of the base population, and this was something he desperately wanted to prevent. Won’t I have the same problem with the rest of the world when I’m thousands of feet tall, Barron thought. Won't they all be so far below me and so miniscule that I won’t ever know where to step? What about when I grow even more immense than that! What about when my foot is the size of a state! So many are going to die! Maybe it will be easier if I just stop thinking about it. Maybe I shouldn’t care. Maybe I should just step wherever I want to step… and fuck them all. They should get out of my way. For the first time, Barron grew aroused by the idea of being able to demolish everything beneath his feet. In his head, he heard the sounds of screams as he thundered down a busy street. The world would be pandemonium. Crowds would be running from him as quickly as they could, but none would be fast enough to get out of his way. He imagined how incredible it would feel to simply press his foot down into the crowd and be the last thing any of them would remember. His cock grew hard as the images of the power that he now possessed flooded his brain. Grinning, Barron was just about to take his first step o to the crowd below when he stopped. A wave of cold washed over him as he suddenly came to his senses and realized what it was he was about to do. What the fuck is wrong with you, Grant?! Straighten your sorry ass out!! How dare you think that way!! That’s not like you at all!. You made a pledge to protect the people of this country at any cost, and you’ll damn well do it! Barron inhaled deeply and cleared his head. When he exhaled, having forgotten about how strong his breath now was, he watched as several trees across the base toppled, their roots ripping up the dirt and sidewalk as they flew from the ground and fell several feet away. The only problem is… I now have to protect the world from me! Barron was trying to decide what his course of action might be, when a sharp and painful explosion of what sounded like microphone feedback ripped through his head. At that exact moment, Barron experienced what felt like millions of bolts of lightning erupting and exploding in his skull. As the din grew harsher and louder, Barron lifted his arms in an attempt to cover his ears, but found that his lats were too wide and his biceps too swollen to allow himself to complete this simple task. He felt sick to his stomach and dizzy as the cacophony of noise in his head grew to a mind exploding crescendo, and he was suddenly afraid that he was going to pass out. Fighting through the clamour in his head, Barron was surprised when he suddenly began to hear the distant sound of a deep and menacing laugh. All too quickly, the pain and high pitched howling that ripped through his head was replaced by thunderous laughter that appeared to be coming from both within, and all around him. Then, louder than even the laughter came… a voice. “Enjoying the show, General?” It was a male voice. There was no denying that. It was deep… masculine… with a terribly cruel edge to it. “WHAT? WHO... WHO IS THIS?” “You always craved worship, General; undying devotion from your soldiers. Maybe your soldiers aren’t worthy of you. Perhaps you think I should up the intensity.” Below Barron, the soldiers began to fight each other harder, and worship with greater fervor. Several more streams of bullets were fired, and even more blood was shed as those fell to the hands and weapons of ones who were stronger and more determined to be near him. Sickeningly, Barron began to smell the blood of his fallen company rise up towards him. “WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING... STOP IT IMMEDIATLEY!” “More? As you wish!” Fighting turned to unbridled passion and insane lust as his troops began to copulate and worship in Barron’s giant shadow. Even at 40 feet above the madness, Barron could hear the groans of pleasure as men grabbed men and began to wildly fuck and suck each other. More tore off their clothes and started to rub their bodies against his feet in reverence while the rest jerked off or fingered themselves looking up at him in adoration. The maniacal laughter shot painfully through Barron once again as the bacchanal below grew in ferocity. Whatever force that lay behind the voice and laughter and controlled his troop soon began to have a profound effect on him. Barron found his hyper sexed body began to get turned on by the animalistic revelry below, and soon, his eyes were closed, and he was wildly stroking his own mighty cock in delight. Barron imagined how incredible it would feel to have all of the tiny hands of his troops, en masse, jerking his titanic cock. They might be small, but if they all came together as a team and really put their body and soul into it, they could potentially satisfy him. In his fantasy, others would begin to lick and toy his nipples with their tongues. True worshipers, not willing to be satisfied with only licking or massaging his body with their hands, would crawl up his hole and use their own bodies as butt plugs… moving in further to massage his prostate. Below, the world had exploded into an insane hornets nest of erotic frenzy and debauchery. All sexes were out of control; all fucking, sucking, and licking each other in every possible position and every available hole. Barron attempted to prevent himself from growing even hornier by thinking of other things, but hearing and smelling the masses below worshiping and fucking at his feet made it next to impossible. I’d give anything to be down there with them!! It’s so hard to believe I’ll never fuck again! “Never say never, General!” The voice erupted into laughter again. Barron’s cock throbbed and his balls burned. Soon, his cock began leaking pearl after pearl of precum, falling from the head to the ground below. “That’s it, General. Shoot on them!! Let’s see what evolution The Variant can create!!” Barron’s eyes shot open at these words, and fear gripped his stomach. Immediately stopping his hand from stroking himself further, Barron frantically tried to look around for whatever alien force was stealing into his brain and communicating with him. His mountainous pecs got in the way of him looking below, so he needed to bend his torso over slightly to take in the ground. “Come on, General!! Stop wasting time! Try and make me some more brothers and sisters!” A hot erotic rush shot through him again as a much larger and thicker wad of pre was released and landed on several more soldiers. The spector laughed wildly with glee, revelling in Barron’s release. The groans from below grew even louder as the sexual hysteria surged. Barron tried to stop the flow of pre with his hands, but his cock refused to obey. Another spurt of pre fell and hit three more troops. The sticky liquid his balls produced was quickly absorbed into their system through their skin, and The Variant rapidly went to work altering their DNA for growth. How many did I hit? How many more are there going to be? I didn’t think any of this through! It’s bad enough what’s going to happen to me… but what if there’s ten… twenty more of me? They’ll over run the Earth! There’ll be destruction everywhere! “That’s right, General. That’s what The Variant made you for! Did you think you were in control??? That’s a joke! None of us are in control any longer! You’re just a fucking spreader. That’s all you are. That’s what The Variant evolved you to be. From your cock… more and more of us are going to be born. With each generation… The Variant grows bigger… better… and stronger? Do… Go on! Do what’s in your nature now to do. Spread!!!” Suddenly a marionette on strings, Barron’s hips bucked uncontrollably and he shot five more massive wads, one after the other, quite a distance away from the horde of people. Barron felt relief as he watched the secretion safely land on the ground, away from further spreading. If he could just calm himself down… he wouldn’t have anything else to… Barron watched in horror as the secretion slowly began to move under its own locomotion. At first, it reminded The General of how mercury might act when released from an old fashioned, broken thermometer. The five puddles slowly slithered their way across the dirt and pavement, merging into a larger mass as they came together. Then, as it moved nearer to people, Barron’s discharge quickly gained speed, becoming a heat seeking missile hunting down its prey. Soon, the thick substance slithered across the ground and merged with a young male soldier, completely covering his naked body. The soldier groaned loudly as it attached itself to him, and then before he even knew what was happening, it had been absorbed into his system and was tracking down his DNA. This is a nightmare, Barron thought. “This is what happens when you play with things you don’t understand, General. But… I’ll tell you what… Do you really want to stop this before it all grows out of control?” “YES! TELL ME HOW TO STOP IT!!” “It will be a little bit of a challenge since you can’t tell who’s infected and who’s not..,” “JUST TELL ME!” “Crush them. Each and every one of them.” “WHAT?” “Pulverize them into pulp. Smash them into the ground with your massive feet.” “I… I CAN'T. YOU CAN'T ASK ME TO DO THAT.” “You have no choice. It’s just you… and… of course… me… or it’s you and ten to twenty other rampaging… FUCK!!” Between his ears and within his skull, Barron heard the familiar sounds of bones breaking and muscle swelling, but knew that it wasn’t him that was getting larger. “Growing feels so… fucking good!!” Barron’s blood ran cold. “WHO ARE YOU?” “I’m surprised… you haven't… already guessed. Don’t worry, though. You’ll… FUCK… see me… soon! This body won’t be able to… hide… for long!!” “SHOW YOURSELF!” “You always were sexy barking commands.” Another peel of deep and menacing laughter erupted in Barron’s head. “Caleb Thomas, Sir! Reporting for duty! Look to your right, Sir!” Barron shifted his weight to the right and bent slightly over. His hyper evolved eyesight quickly picked up as a 10 foot… no… 11 foot, insanely muscular, yet cut and perfectly proportioned figure with long flowing brown hair emerged from the shadows. Lifting his thick arm, he proceeded to mockingly salute Barron. Standing there so rigidly stiff, Caleb looked like the physical manifestation of the Greek ideal of man. Barron imagined Caleb was what Alexander the Great might look like… or Achilles, sculpted from marble by a master with a fetish for cock and muscle. Compared to Caleb, any man would look like a poor substitute… including Barron. Caleb smiled, waved up at Barron, before gritting his teeth and scrunching his face muscles. He let out a loud groan, and then shot up several inches. “The Variant… needs me… a little… bigger!!!” Caleb screamed, holding out his arms, as he expanded. The young soldier grunted over and over, each time shooting him larger. When he was finished, left panting and catching his breath, he stood nearly 14 feet tall and over 3,000 lbs of muscle. “Here we are… General. Face to face… almost!” Caleb was still quite winded from his last bout of growth, but quickly gained his composure. His 17 inch cock stood rigidly out in front of him, swaying and throbbing in the wind, while his grapefruit sized testicles appeared to swell and breathe in his sack with a life of their own. “THOMAS.” “Guess I shouldn’t expect you to recognize me. I’ve changed quite a bit. Even more than you could imagine. You like my little trick?” Barron could see that Caleb didn’t even move his mouth when he spoke. He simply grinned. Caleb then snapped his fingers, and each member of the troop stopped what they were doing and scattered quickly to attention. “Within me… The Variant birthed REAL power, General. My will… my brain trumps yours. Your men… are my men now!” Half of the soldiers below Barron began to fight again as the other half began to fuck. In no time at all, more soldiers were killed at their comrades hands as blood covered the ground. Within his head, Caleb laughed harder. The Variant’s driven him insane, Barron thought. He’s getting off on this. Barron’s body began to shake as his shoulders stretched broader and his delts throbbed. Another thick wad of pre was fired from his cock, raining down on the crowd below. He wanted to step away so that his seed didn’t fall on anyone else below and create more giants, but his soldiers continued moving underfoot. “As your children grow, General… we’ll get to watch and witness if their bodies are strong enough to evolve and survive.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” “Remember your other Chosen ones? That was a laugh! They were weak! They couldn’t even survive the initial metamorphosis. Their body’s… they cracked under the pressure… limbs split apart… skin tore and exploded… Trey’s own muscle mass… remember Trey? His muscle growth was so astronomical that it smothered him. He screamed out in agony until his mouth fused shut and he evolved into one enormous, pulsating mound of muscle. None of them survived, General. None of them were as strong as you and I. That’s why you need to spread. The Variant… it’s not pleased with the results. It’s demanding more!!!” Caleb groaned as his torso stretched another foot longer. To Barron, Caleb’s body no longer looked as in proportion or sculpted as it once had. His upper body seemed to have grown much longer and wider… more angular. “HOW... ARE YOU... DOING... THIS??” Barron’s own shoulders cracked and spread wider. “What The Variant found within me… what it’s evolved… what it’s made me a slave of… A recessed gene in my DNA. The Variant… it unlocked it. My brain… The Variant has expanded it so far beyond any human capacity… any genius capacity… any computer’s capacity… and it just keeps growing stronger!” Caleb grunted as his pecs swelled thicker. “The Variant… it needs to grow… it needs to survive… and now… The Variant wants to know… everything!! My brain… The Variant has… mutated it… grown it… so large… it no longer only resides… in my skull! It now… trails down my spinal cord… budding and augmenting… my lungs… they have merged with my brain… my heart… my kidneys… my brain… growing… filling every available space. Still growing… expanding… filling me… My body is trying to… keep up… trying to match… my expanding mind. Grow stronger… to contain it. You’re the brawn of this operation, General… but I’m… the brain! Caleb laughed as his arms grew slightly longer as his biceps swelled. Within his head, Barron heard Caleb grunt as his body shook. All at once, his upper torso grew significantly wider as his lats flared out. “There… can only… be… one of us… General. Only… one of us… can grow and fill… everything. With me… it’s found the means… to not only grow and fill… everything… but to… be… everything!!” Caleb’s torso bucked as it stretched longer. “I… ARGH!!” Caleb’s thick wall of abs swelled, pushing outwards like a powerlifter's roid gut. As it ballooned, his pelvis cracked and repositioned itself, growing his waist wider. “Stomach… being… ingested… by… my own… brain! No longer… do I need… it! More cavity… is needed… for my brain… to grow!” Caleb’s abdomen swelled and pulsated. “Variant… wants… all of me… to be… it’s… brain.” Baron’s body, responding to what he was witnessing of Caleb’s growth, shot upwards and out. His expanding feet caught people underneath, pulverizing and demolishing them as he spread out. Not one person screamed as they were trampled. They were too busy revelling in the orgasmic frenzy that Caleb had filled them with. Others began to throw themselves under his growing feet, cumming and moaning as they were crushed. Barron backed up, but only succeeded in crushing even more. He was comforted in the knowledge that he was hopefully saving the world from the growth of even more monsters, but knew that all too soon they would have him to contend with. And Caleb. How was he going to protect the people from Caleb who seemed much more powerful and dangerous than he ever could be. Barron’s body shot up even higher, growing heavier and more immense. Fuck! I’m the size of a building! Not quite a skyscraper, but a tall building! When the growth slowed and stopped, Barron was surprised at how far away the ground seemed from his new 60 feet of height. Looking down, he saw that Caleb now stood nearly 20 feet tall. “It’s time… General. Time to do the task The Variant has evolved this body for.” Caleb closed his eyes, a soft humming noise filled Barron’s head. “WHAT, SOLDIER. WHAT DOES THE VARIANT NEED YOU TO DO? TELL ME!!!” “The Variant… has me… tapping myself… into the Wi-Fi. It wants to… download… all of the world's information into me. When this happens… The Variant will be unstoppable!!!”
    14 points
  25. I found this story written by Myoder does anybody know if he still writes? Bull BY Myoder I'd never met my uncle Jim. My dad told me that he was always the black sheep of the family and that was about all I knew of him. Now, at 35, I decided I'd track him down. I found out that he had a ranch and after a few calls I finally reached him. On the phone, he had a deep voice (it actually made me crazy it was so deep, so masculine, but I'd never let him know). I arranged to come out to the ranch on day in the summer. The sprawling property was impressive. Cattle and a small farm patch with hay and wheat growing. I didn't know what to expect of my uncle, I'd only seen a photo of him as a boy - dark tossled hair and a clear attitude that said "don't take my picture, jerk!" I found a ranch hand and asked where I'd find my uncle Jim. "Jim?" he asked. "Don't know any Jim." "Jim Reynolds? He owns the place." "Oh! You mean Bull! He's out in the field with the cattle. Take that truk over there you'll find him over that way." He pointed toward a large open space. I could barely make out the dots of cattle in the distance. I hopped in the old truck and headed out. My heart started pounding at the idea of meeting a long lost relative. Who I found in the field was more than anything I could've expected. There standing among a herd was my uncle Jim - Bull as they called him - and I could see why. At 55, he stood a good 6'7". He looked like he weighed well over 500 lbs and all of it was muscle. He had a mane of thick dark hair with grey at the temples, a full beard and bushy eyebrows. His face was weathered and worn from years in the sun. He was wearing a flannel cowboy shirt, the sleeves torn off to accomodate the mass of his incredible arms. His biceps bulged and twisted like huge iron balls. His triceps were like two massive horseshoes, his forearms easily 25inches around and corded with thik muscle under a coat of dark hair. His shoulders had to be 3 feet across. The front of the shirt was open halfway to his navel, exposing huge hairy pecs - grey and black hair matted with sweat. His thighs were thick with muscle and his ass was big and firm. He was imposing and huge - and I could feel my dick getting hard at the thoguht of the what filled the enormous bulge in his jeans. "Uncle Jim?" I called. He looked over and started toward me extending his hand. "You Mike, then?" he asked. His grip was strong. He was being gentle, I could tell he did know his own strength and was being careful not to hurt me. He smiled. "So, you're my nephew. Hmmm." He looked me up and down and I felt embarrassed. "Well my brother produced a fine young guy. Guess good looks run in the family." He laughed and looked like he was staring at my crotch. Did he notice my growing hardon? I thought I sawthe bulge in his pants getting bigger. "Just working on getting these steer in that pen. Hold on." He ushered a few of the steer into a fenced area, but two moved off, not wanting to go. He walked over to them and grabbed them by the horns. Then he slipped his massive hands and arms around them and lifted. His neck was thick and huge, his traps swelled beside his ears. His biceps and triceps bunched and flexed as he hoisted the two huge steer in his arms. He walked them over to the pen and lifted them over the fence. At least 1000lbs in each arms and he lifted them like they were little dogs! "Get in there, you two!" he grunted as he put them down. He turned to face me and gave his pecs a flex, the massive muscle bouncing under the fabric. "Helps if you're strong in this work, Mike." He flashed a big smile. "You married?" Uh oh, I thought. That question. Do I tell him I'm gay, or do I leave it alone? "No," I said. Leave it alone. "You?" "Was for a while. She left me for one of the ranch hands. Go figure. She thought I was gettin too big - lifting weights and building up. But shit! When you get this big, you just gotta get bigger! Sides, most women don't appreciate a really huge man." He lifted one of his massive arms and flexed it. The bicep peaked as big as my head and his triceps hung low and hard in an incredible arch. His shoulder was as big as a basketball and every muscle was striated.My cock leapt in my pants pushing out my jeans. "Just 33 inches there, Mike." I gulped. "Man! Really?!" "Sure is! Here feel it." He held it in front of my face. I could smell his sweat and felt his breath on my face. He looked into my eyes while I reached up acn touched the huge muscle. He twisted his fist around changing the mass and dimension of the muscle in front of my face. He breathed harder as I grasped the bicep and squeezed. Then he whispered, "Squeeze it real hard, Mike. Try and crush it." I squeezed as hard as I could but didn't dent it. "Real Man's arm there, boy," he whispered, "you like that? I can by that crotch that you do." I stroked my cock in my pants. "Let it out, son." he whispered in my ear. I unzipped my jeans and my hard 7" dick sprang out and slapped against my stomach. "Mmmm, yeah real pretty little dick, Mike." He kept his arm flexed and grabbed my dick with his other hand, stroking me gently. His huge hand almost entirely enveloped my hard cock. His fingers slipped under my crotch and hisindex finger found my hungry asshole. I groaned as he fingered my hole. Now my hands were all over his huge body. I ripped open his shirt and started running my fingers through the fur on his massive pecs. He flexed them while I squeezed and probed, licked and stroked his muscle. He leaned down and his mouth met mine, his beard scrathing my face histongue probing deep down my throat. I reached for his zipper and pulled it down. His semi-hard cock flopped out. It was already about 9 inches long and as thick as my wrist. I felt the weight of it- heavy and thick. He stood up straight and I took as much of it as I could in my mouth. It continued to grow while I licked and sucked and stroked it. "Yeah. Suck my big dick, Mike. Make that cock huge! Yeah, Big muscle man's dick." He threw his head back and his cock thickened and hardened even more. At full mast he was immense. Thick with a huge head and dark veins roped over the monster dong. "Fuck Bull! How big is this?!" I asked. "Fifteen. When I'm real excited 16. Like it, Mike?" "Oh man!" I went down on the huge prick and sucked as much as I could- which wasn't much. It was huge. It throbbed and flexed in his excitement. Every muscle in his massive body flexed while I sucked him and stroked his huge dick. I could feel his big, hairy balls pulling up and expected him to shoot, but he stopped me. "My turn," he said. He picked me up in one huge hand and thrust his finger in my ass. I sat on his hand and he pumped me back and forth, sucking my dick and finger fucking me. I reached down and felt his massive biceps as he went to work on my throbbing dick. "Yeah, Bull. Suck me, Stud. Flex those big fuckin muscles and suck me real hard. He picked up speed and grunted and groaned as he sucked my dick. I could feel me getting close. "I'm gonna shoot, man!" The giant muscle man pumped my dick deep in his throat and clamped down hard as my jism gushed out. He kept sucking me till I was dry, then he put me down. I grasped his massive dong and pulledon it hard. He groaned more and more as I stroked his dick. "Make it shoot, man! Make Bull's dick shoot." I squeezed his monstrous, hairy pecs and stroked his hard 16" dick. Then he hit a double biceps pose and I squeezed the inhuman arms. His masive dong bounced and bobbed while I felt his incredible arms. I saw his huge balls contract up and his huge muscle cock sprayed a massive load for feet and feet while I squeezed his arms. He picked me up and held me straddling his waist and kissed me deep and long. That was the first day I met my Uncle Jim - Bull. •
    12 points
  26. Mark Obviously his tattoo's aren't 100% (because AI generation) but it's really close to how I imagine him.
    12 points
  27. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 1: Move-in day your freshman year of college is nerve-wracking for everyone. But for me, it was doubly so. Like most other freshmen at my midwestern university, I was moving into a dorm on campus. My new roommate had been assigned randomly via a lottery. All I knew was his name, email, plus what little I could glean from social media. Not much. Frank Ryan, from Dallas, Texas. His only profile photo (if it was even his) was a thumbnail image of a high school football player mid-play. I couldn't really make out what he looked like. For 18-year-old me, a total nerd with an unhealthy obsession with muscle-bound jocks, this was more than enough to make my heart pound and my imagination reel. After Frank was assigned as my roommate in July, I had sent him a long email: How excited I was to be roommates, where I'm from, what I'll be studying, logistical details about my arrival, etc. His reply back was terse. Sounds good man - looking fwd. I move in 1 day b4 u Frank Gulp. --- I was moving all by myself. My parents lived in California and couldn't fly out with me. So when I arrived at the residence hall (buzzing with activity from all the other arrivals), it was just me lugging two enormous suitcases, drenched with sweat from the effort. I got to the door of my room, 201B. I heard the sound of someone's feet inside, plus another buzzing noise I couldn't recognize. There was a faint, manly aroma in the air. Should I knock? I asked myself. I decided I should. I gently tapped the door. No answer. I knocked harder. No answer. Then I pounded the door, but got no response. I lurked outside for a few minutes, unsure what to do. I took a deep breath and decided to go in. The door was unlocked. "HELLO?" I said, to announce myself. "Frank?" I walked in and saw what remains, to this day, the most shocking image of my life. A monstrous, shirtless man was standing with his back to me. His olive-skinned body looked genuinely unreal -- impossible to describe how much muscle hung on his enormous frame. I gauged he was probably 6'4, but his slightly hairy back looked almost as wide as he was tall. Even more startling than his back was his ass, which was so large it literally sucked his XXL gym shorts into its crack, so I could see each globe of his bubble butt in amazing detail. He was standing barefoot on a grey towel, even his calves bulging unnaturally. The muscle freak had noise-canceling headphones on (which explained why he hadn't heard me knocking). I heard a buzzing noise and saw he was holding a hair trimmer. I realized he was standing in front of the mirror, buzzing his chest. As I stepped into the small room, he still hadn't heard me. I smelled the intoxicating scent of sweat, as if there were clouds of testosterone in the air. "HELLO?" I said again, my voice quavering. He didn't turn around, but kept bouncing his head (which looked tiny compared to his body) to the music playing in his headphones. I crept closer, and suddenly caught sight of his eyes in the mirror reflection. Startled, he whipped his massive body around. The room was so small -- and his reaction was so quick -- that his bare, left pec slammed right into my face with tremendous force. I flew backwards three feet and landed on my ass. "Frank?" I said as I stood up. "It's me, James. Your roommate." "James?! FUCK! You scared the shit out of me, dude!" A voice to match his body: Deep. Hyper-masculine. Unreal. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I knocked a bunch of times, but you had your headphones in." My eyes made their way up to Frank's face. I actively tried to ignore what I saw: a face that looked like a young Henry Cavill, only with a buzz-cut and a thick, dark beard. My new roommate was a Mr. Olympia-sized bodybuilder. That was enough for now. I couldn't deal with the fact that he had a perfect face, too. "No worries, man," he said, smiling, his voice so deep it sent a jolt of pleasure right to my dick. His eyes were gleaming. "Great to meet you. Sorry to bump into you. And for the mess. I was just trimming my chest..." I now noticed the pile of dark body hair on the towel on the floor, and that his HUGE pecs were trimmed on one side, dark and furry on the other. This guy was 18?! "It's fine. I didn't know you'd be so...so..." Now I couldn't take my eyes off his pecs. They were only a foot or so from my face. Eye level. I wanted to touch them more than anything in the world. I started to blush. Veiny. Hairy. Juicy. One of them twitched involuntarily. I thought I might faint. Frank helped me out: "So big? Yeah, I'm starting as a lineman on the football team. Been bulking up this summer -- gained 50 pounds!" Frank flexed right arm. "Yeaaa buddy!" The shockingly defined bicep that formed must have been 24 inches, at least. "Holy shit..." I mumbled. I was starting to feel dizzy. I craned up my neck to look him in the eye, so I wouldn't get a hard-on from staring at his body. But his face was so handsome that I went even more red. "Anyway, I'm glad you're finally here, because I wanted to tell you something. You see how the bunk bed is all fucked up?" Those shoulders. Each one was the size of a basketball. That beard. That voice. It was so ridiculously deep. Barely sounded human. It was like every time he spoke, someone was caressing my dick. "James, you there?" "Huh?" I said. "You spaced out there for a sec. You got distracted?" He smiled and winked, and bounced his pecs -- more innocent than arrogant. "Anyway, I was saying -- you see how the bed is all fucked up?" I now noticed that the bunk bed was indeed fucked up. Instead of being stacked vertically, both beds were laid side by side, almost touching each other. They left almost no floorspace in the small room. Frank continued: "Well, when I got here, they said that we had to set it up this way. It turns out I'm too heavy for the bunks. It's a safety hazard if you're over 300 pounds because they might collapse when two people get in them. I'm 320. Can you believe that shit? So they made me move them side by side. I don't really care, it's fine this way, but I wanted you to know in case you mind crawling over my bed to get to yours. It's fine if you want to swap roommates with someone else. They might still let you." "NO! It's fine! I don't mind," I said with far too much enthusiasm. "You sure? I know it's annoying." "Don't worry," I assured him. "Cool, I appreciate you being so chill about it. Here, let me help with your stuff." Before I could object, Frank bolted out the hallway door, bubble butt bouncing behind him, and grabbed both my enormous bags. As if they weighed no more than feathers, he dropped them in the room and closed the door. There was barely any space in the room. His pecs were once again mere inches from my face. I couldn't decide which I loved more, the furry one or the buzzed one. "Don't want to let the AC out," he said. "You mind if I finish this up while you're unpacking?" he asked, pointing down to his half-furry, half-buzzed torso. "No, not at all." I realized I had little chest hairs all over my face, from where his sweaty pec had slapped into me. I turned my back to Frank and unpacked my stuff, or tried to. I could barely think. I was just picking things up, putting them back down, in a daze. My hands were shaking. I tried to pretend that a bearded, 18-year-old, 320-pound, super-heavyweight bodybuilder wasn't trimming his body hair three feet away. As if I couldn't hear him wheezing. Fuck, even the way he held the beard trimmer in his giant paws was hot. Then I noticed all the jock paraphernalia littered around the room: Protein powder, creatine, trophies, supplements, a white jockstrap hanging on the door handle, a football helmet, bodybuilding magazines, a sweaty wife-beater on the floor. Was that a cum rag in the corner? I realized how intense the smell in the room was. Not mildewy or sour. A rich, earthy, masculine musk. Pure pheromones. Against my concerted will, my cock started to harden. Out of nowhere, Frank's massive, calloused hand clasped my entire shoulder. I gasped and spun around to face him. His twitchy, veiny pecs -- fully buzzed now -- were four inches from my face. The dark bristly chest hair looked like it was already starting to grow back. It took all the self-control I had not to bury my face in them. "Hey man," Frank said, his voice serious and deep. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe we can sit down." I sat down on the bed, my arms covering my lap to hide my throbbing erection. Frank sat down right beside me, no personal space at all. The bed creaked loudly. His arousing smell was even more intense up close. Plus, somehow, his mounds of muscle looked even freakier seated and relaxed. Each of his hairy, veiny arms was thicker than my leg. Despite the serious expression on his face, my cock was starting to leak. "Look," he began, looking into my eyes earnestly. "You seem like a really chill guy, and, uh, there's something I, uh...I wanted to..." He trailed off. Was HE nervous? I couldn't believe this monster who could rip my arm off was stammering. "There's something you want to tell me?" I looked up from Frank's six pack, his perfect, heaving pecs, past his bulging, gorilla-like neck, his thick beard and sensual lips, and locked eyes with him. HE was blushing! "Yeah. It's something I haven't told many people about. But I've been thinking... New school, new roommate... I ought to warn you, in case you're not cool with it." "Warn me about what?" "I'm, uh... I'm...Um..." He was crimson red now. He hunched over, looking defeated, yet this posture only made his bare muscles look more swollen and unreal. When he lifted his arm up to scratch his forehead nervously, a 24-inch peak formed, and dark bushels of pit hair released an even stronger musk. I gasped. "It's OK, Frank, you can tell me." As I spoke, I reached out and touched his hairy shoulder. I was both desperate to touch his body and trying to be reassuring. Yet the muscle felt so rock-hard that I gulped with disbelief. "I'm... I'm....You should know I'm... I'm into, uh, into, um... Other... guys." "You're gay?" I said, shell-shocked. Now he was not just blushing, his lip was quivering. He looked like he might cry. But his eyes remained locked with mine, almost bravely. "I just thought it might be weird for you, sharing a room with... with... Well...I wanted to warn you." I sighed. "Well, I appreciate the warning. But it's not an issue, Frank." His eyes brightened. He smiled. So fucking adorable, I thought. "It's not?" "No, it's not a problem. Gay guys and straight guys get paired up all the time. It's not like being gay means you can't control yourself around your roommate." God, I thought to myself, I'm proof of this: How badly I wanted to kiss him right now. "I was so worried to tell you," he said. "Last month when you emailed me, I almost thought of telling you then. There are only a few other people I've ever mentioned it to. No one on the football team knows. They all assume I'm straight, because, you know." He gestured at his 320 pounds of beefy, barely clothed muscle. My throat went dry. "To be honest, Frank," I said, "I probably should have said something, too. It would have been a lot easier for you. I'm into guys too." His eyes widened. "WHAT!? You serious!?" "Uh, yeah..." "You're kidding me. You are too?" "Yep! Small world, right? Or whatever the expression... You know what I mean." Frank's mind looked completely blown. "You're fucking with me." "No, I am not." "Bro...That makes me so happy." "Me too. Honestly, I also felt a little worried about being paired with a straight guy. Wasn't sure how he'd react." "Dude..." He trailed off, and his eyes looked me up and down. Was he checking me out? Suddenly, Frank pulled me in for a bear hug. I felt the abrasive texture of his chest stubble, the pecs hard as granite, breathed in his sweaty musk. "I'm just so happy how this turned out," he said. My dick went from semi to rock hard in about one second, well beyond my control. I mean, a bare-chested bodybuilder the size of a Mr. Olympia was hugging me. I felt mortified. Even then, at 18, I knew I was quite hung, about 8 inches, and that my hard-on would be conspicuous. Yet his grasp was so strong, his musk so heavenly, there was nothing I could do but squeeze him tighter. Then I felt it. Frank's cock was hard too. 9 or 10 inches, from the feel of it. Suddenly I realized that Frank wasn't hugging me. He was groping me. His hands were squeezing my ass, my lower back, the back of my neck. He was wheezing, moaning, in a horned up kind of way. "Fuck ya, fuck bro... fuck ya..." he muttered quietly. I felt his thick beard and tongue caressing my neck, smelled the beautiful pheromones that wafted from his hairy pits. Then he started kissing me on the mouth, his tongue gentler than I would have expected. I was in such a state of shock that I didn't even reciprocate. I just let him grope me and kiss me, held captive in his beastly arms, my eyes wide open. The situation had escalated faster than I ever could have imagined. It had only been 10 minutes since I learned that the biggest, sexiest, hairiest muscle freak I'd ever seen was going to be my college roommate. Now he was kissing me, squeezing me, caressing my dick with his strong hands, pulling off my clothes... Frank shoved my face into his cleavage. Each pec was the size of a textbook. I sucked on his nipples in ecstacy. "AHH FUCK BRO!" he moaned -- so loud that I was sure the R.A. down the hall would hear it. As I did, it occurred to me that Frank had probably not met many other openly gay men. I might have even been the first. Maybe he thought that it was automatic for two guys -- once it was established that they were both gay -- to go at it like rabbits. (How ironic, I thought, that this hyper-sexualized muscle god probably had less experience in bed than I did.) Frank's naivete and eagerness, while perhaps a little sad, were also charming -- and flattering. Everything I did, like kissing his neck, or brushing my hand over his shaft, elicited ten times more arousal than I was expecting it to. When I slipped my hand into his gym shorts and cupped his grapefruit-sized balls, pre-cum gushed from his cock. "Fuck yeah dude. AW! AW! AW!" Moaning louder than ever, Frank laid me out on one of the beds. The mattress was bare. (Whether it was his bed or mine, I wasn't sure yet). He pinned me down -- his buzzed, veiny muscles looking even freakier as they writhed on top of me. The 18-year-old mountain of muscle kissed my neck, my lips, with more passion than I would have ever felt entitled to. His cock, which turned out to be more like 10.5 inches -- as superlative as the body it was attached to -- had burst out of his gym shorts, and pressed against my abdomen, still leaking a stream of pre. I could tell we were both close to cumming. Yet something in me snapped. I regained my senses. "Frank. FRANK. Wait a minute." I rolled him over onto his back. The bed frame squealed. I sat up on top of his teardrop-shaped super-quads, looking down at his surprised expression. From this angle, a giant shelf of pec meat obfuscated part of his face. His shockingly well-defined six pack pulsed in and out as he breathed heavily. His cock oozed more pre. "What?" he asked. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" "What do you mean? I thought you said you were gay." "Yeah, but I'm your roommate. Is hooking up... you know... a bad move?" "What... You...You... don't like me?" His face looked heartbroken and insecure, even while he propped up his head with a twitching 24-inch bicep. "No, no, that's not it at all, Frank!" He brushed me off from on top of him. I almost flew off the bed. Then he petulantly turned his back to me, so he was lying on his side facing the wall. The bed creaked and screeched. Even then, when I was afraid about having upset him, I was amazed by the muscles on display. My throat went dry. Frank's lats were so wide that his back soared several feet in the air, like a ship's sail. Each globe of his ass was the size of a watermelon. His weight made the whole mattress slope down towards his side. The force of gravity pressed me right against his back. "Am I too big for you?" he said, muffled, with his mutant lats to me. Was he crying? "What? No!" "People always get freaked out by me. Guys, girls... They think I'm going to hurt them or something..." he said. I caressed his traps gently. I couldn't believe this was the same muscle group that connected to my own neck. On him, they looked as wide and strong as a horse bridle. It was like he had a different anatomy than other human beings... Despite my grandstanding about not hooking up, I was still hard, and in fact, pretty close to cumming. I attempted to refocus. "Frank, c'mon. Turn around. Look at me," I said tenderly. He flipped onto his other side to face me. His weight caused such a large dip in the mattress that my face flew right into his sweaty pecs. I pushed myself out and looked him in the eyes. His veiny neck must have been 18 inches round, but his face looked surprisingly boyish and hurt. I tried not to look down at the unreal chest, cock and quads that were just inches away from me, totally naked now. "It's not that I'm freaked out by you," I said, not entirely honestly. Frank's muscles were extreme even by pro bodybuilding standards. He was 320 pounds, but he couldn't have had body fat above 5%. I didn't understand how an 18 year old could be this huge. How many years had he been on steroids? "You're not?" "Well, no. To be honest with you, Frank, I've always been into muscle. Like...Really into muscle. As long as I can remember. In fact, when I walked in here and saw you, I felt like I was dreaming. When I was 13, I used to steal bodybuilding magazines from 7-11 and jerk off to the photos. And you're bigger than any of them. You're bigger than Jay Cutler or Nick Walker or Big Ramy. And you're better looking, too. You're the hottest person I've ever met -- no, ever seen -- in my entire life." Frank's eyes brightened. I continued: "The thing is, just, uh... We're roommates. So I'm worried it's a bad idea to hook up.. You know... Maybe it will get awkward?" Now Frank raised a devilish eyebrow. "You like muscle?" he said, smiling. It occurred to me I had never admitted my obsession to anyone else before, even though it occupied me every hour of every day. "Mhm," I said. "You know what I'm into? Handsome, sexy, smart guys. Like you." (My heart almost stopped.) "When you walked in and I got a look at you, I didn't know how I'd be able to keep it in my pants all year bro. You're totally my type. And if you think for one second we're not going to hook up, just because we're roommates...When you're into muscle..." Now Frank flexed an arm with a cocky energy that made my head spin. "You think I'm big now? I'm just getting started. I'll be 350 by winter break. And if you think you're not going to worship these muscles, feel them up every single night, suck on them, cuddle them..." he shoved the peak, then his pit, into my face, suffocating me. I immediately came. Warm cum gushed all over the bare mattress and Frank's six pack. Frank got up and straddled me. He still flexed with one arm, jerked his enormous cock with the other. His weight was almost unbearable. "If you think we're not going to fuck every night... If you think we're not going to jerk off together every morning..." His face grew flushed as he tugged on his shaft, one bicep still flexed in a crazy peak. He slurped on his own arm. "AH, AH, UH, UH, UH!!" He sprayed a firehose of cum all over me, drenching my face and torso. I tasted it, a beautiful, sweet, salty taste, and swallowed it. Winking, he climbed off me, and drew me into his swollen arms. -- That day, we moved the two beds right next to each other, so they were basically connected. From then on, we cuddled every night of freshman year. I wouldn't say we were boyfriends. Not exactly. Our relationship only existed inside our dorm room. Outside of it, Frank was the ultimate football jock, the biggest muscle freak the campus had ever known. Most people got chills of fear (or arousal) when he waddled in a room. If anyone even suspected that Frank was gay, he would have been too afraid to say it out loud. Yet as soon as he'd close the dorm room door, Frank would rip his shirt off, kiss me passionately, straddle me with his hard cock bouncing up and down. Nor did I mind this arrangement. On the contrary, I loved knowing that he was all mine. Who would dare hit on him? I'd race home from the library or class, he'd come home from practice or a frat party, and we'd roll around in bed for hours. It never got old. I didn't even JO anymore. What was the point? The biggest, hottest, most hung man imaginable was sleeping next to me every night. I worshipped everything about Frank, even the things that would turn most people off. The constant meals of ground meat and rice. (Every two hours. Every day. From 8am to 11pm.) The vials of tren. (I even helped him inject it.) The snoring. The wheezing. The body hair. The musk. The roid gut. The slightly receding hairline from so much gear. It all drove me crazy. Frank wasn't kidding about getting bigger. He gained forty pounds in four months, pushing his weight up to 360. He lost some of the definition in his abs, yet I liked him even better this way. His cheeks got fuller, while his pecs and ass grew grotesquely large, like oversized balloons about to burst. Once or twice a month, he'd come home with the seat of his XXL shorts ripped apart. Like the creaking bed we shared, our relationship somehow, miraculously, stayed in one piece. I knew it couldn't last forever -- yet I also knew I'd probably never have this much fun again.
    12 points
  28. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 2: Winter break crawled by. I had returned home to see my family for three long weeks. Frank was the only thing on my mind from dawn till dusk. In the midst of wholesome family activities, the memory of Frank's unnatural, bulging, hyper-sexualized body kept intruding. I thought of Frank's tren-fueled mentality, his body pushed to the limits of muscular development; of him single-mindedly devouring fuel, injecting roids, and lifting weights all winter break. He was out of control. Obsessed. Animalistic. A freak. When I finally headed back to campus, it was with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. The bus from the airport seemed to hit every red light. The minutes crawled by. My heart beat faster with each passing mile. — At last, I got to the door of our room. I heard a faint sound within, almost like a moaning. My heart leaped. Frank was home! Without knocking, I walked right in. The first thing that hit me was the smell — like a Mack truck of deep, intoxicating musk, coupled with the scent of fresh cum. Then I noticed the cum splattered on the walls, on the floor, on the bed. Like someone had just shot massive loads out of a water gun. The room was a war zone, with jock straps, empty protein powder containers and dirty gym clothes scattered everywhere. Then I saw Frank. First and foremost, even in my fantasies, I had forgotten how big he was. The dorm room looked like a doll's house compared to him. There was an Alice in Wonderland quality, like he had taken a potion that made him too large for the small room. Frank was lying on his back on the comparatively tiny bed. He was naked except for a white jock strap. His dark body hair was buzzed short, yet his thick beard was longer than usual. The mattress dipped dramatically under his weight. His cheeks were flushed and his jacked body was flexed. He locked eyes with me -- a serious expression on his red, sweaty face. “James…” he said weakly. With one swollen arm he was stroking his throbbing cock, which had popped out of the jock strap and looked like it was about to explode. Then I realized the other hand was holding a long, black dildo, which he was pumping in and out of his hairy hole. (The dildo was hard to spot at first beneath his bulging quads.) With each pump, his abs convulsed from a 6 pack into an 8 pack. Frank wasn't looking at porn, he was just writhing on the bed -- as if overcome by his own body. He flexed an arm and licked it, rubbed his hand up and down his huge pecs. He locked eyes with me. I laid down my bags, peeled off my winter jacket, and approached him. The dildo he was ramming into his hole must be 8 inches around, I thought. "James...I've been takin' so much tren... Making me so horny bro..." he whispered, gritting his teeth. Sweat was beaded on his red, veiny forehead as he pegged himself. "Couldn't wait for you to get here..." A word about Frank’s voice. In some ways it was as sexy as his body. You have to imagine when they deepen someone’s voice on TV so they can remain anonymous — that’s how scary deep it was. Only it was lightened by a boyish quality I can’t describe, a tiny Texan drawl, and a very slight lisp. What drove me crazy was how it was so gentle and even delicate — yet deeper than any human voice I’d heard. In some ways, it was just like Frank himself, an innocent soul in the body of a superhuman monster. I leaned over Frank and kissed his beautiful mouth. His longer beard felt rough but his lips were soft as ever. I took over the dildo from his hand and continued pumping it in and out, slowly. "AhH! Bro. I missed you," Frank said. I thrust the dildo deeper inside him. "Fuck!" A spurt of precum shot out of his quivering, red dick. "I missed you too, Frank," I said. "Please bro... Fuck me. Fuck me, sir. Please, sir." Frank turned over and bent forward on his knees. His wing-like lats flew out in all their glory. His legs looked like he was half horse. Of course, by now I was completely hard. Must have taken me about ten seconds to pull off my clothes and start pounding the muscle freak. Well…it took a minute more to get to his hole. You see, Frank’s glutes were so thick that I had to fasten my arms around his freaky traps for leverage, so I could push hard enough to even get inside him. "Th-th-thank you, sir," he cried submissively. I went deeper and deeper, pushing as hard as I could against the warm wall of ass muscle. “Love fuckin my muscle boy,” I said, doing my best impression of a straight bro. “Thank you sir, thank you!” His eyes rolled back in his head. “AH! AH! AH!” Frank screamed louder and louder as I pounded him. It must have looked ridiculous, a normal-sized guy pounding a 360-pound freak. I thought of the other people in the dorm who could no doubt hear Frank’s moaning, but I didn’t care. “Fuck yes! Fuck yes!” he yelled in his inimitable, super deep voice. I couldn’t believe how wide and tapered his back looked as it jiggled with each thrust. “Choke me, sir.” I obliged. Or, I tried to. But Frank’s neck was so thick that, no matter how hard I squeezed, I didn’t have much impact. A huge spurt of pre-cum — almost like a load unto itself — spilled out from Frank’s dick. He moaned even louder. Then right before I was going to cum, he pulled my dick out. He grabbed my body, each hand grasping an entire shoulder, and laid me down on the bed like his tiny plaything. Then, looking more huge and horned up than I had ever seen him, he backed up and sat on my dick. From below, I couldn’t see most of his face. His huge, flopping pecs blocked everything except his dark and slightly crazed eyes. As I looked up and saw his pecs jiggling, felt his warm hole sliding up and down my cock, kneaded my hands through his 8-pack, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I started to cum. At the exact same moment, so did Frank — without even touching his cock. His load was so enormous that it drenched my face and most of my chest too. I felt his asshole tighten around my dick in the throes of his orgasm. He moaned: “FUCK YES SIRRRR!” A moment passed. Frank was still straddling me, panting, my very sensitive cock still inside him, my huge load leaking out of his hole. His load coated my entire face. He shuddered. Another mini-orgasm. A last rope of cum shot right into my mouth. Then I started laughing. “What are you laughing at?” “Frank, you really are amazing!” He flashed a killer smile and almost seemed to blush. He looked in my eyes and didn’t say it, but I knew he was thinking (because I was thinking it too): I love you. Frank grimaced and pulled my dick out of his hole, then laid down next to me and shoved my face into his chest crevasse. He knew this was my favorite thing in the world. He pecked affectionate little kisses on my head. God, it felt good to be back in this bear hug, I thought. “You don’t know what it’s been like, James. I’ve been back for ten days. I doubled my tren and now my libido is off the charts. Couldn’t stop thinking of you. I’ve been jerking off six times a day.” “Wait, you’ve been back that long?” I said, surprised. “Yeah, I came back early. My dad was being an asshole. We fought. Said I’m doing too much gear, that he’s worried about me. You believe that?” “Uh…” I wasn’t sure how to reply. Any decent parent would be worried about an 18 year old with 360 pounds of muscle. I must admit, one thing that I found particularly sexy about Frank was that he didn’t give a shit about the risks and stigma of steroids or bodybuilding. It never even seemed to enter his mind. It was like the life of a muscle freak was, for him, the only version of life even worth considering. Nothing was going to stand in his way. Frank continued: “It’s all bullshit. He’s such a hypocrite. Like he wasn’t on gear when he was my age. What he’s really mad about is that he knows I’m not gonna do pro football after college, like he did. He wants me to play in the NFL, just like him.” “You’re not going to?” “Fuck no. You think I care about football? It’s just so I can cover my tuition and keep my dad off my back. Oh, and get unlimited meals at the cafeteria. As soon as I graduate, I’m going to start my pro bodybuilding career.” “Whoa.” “I’m not gonna stop until I’m Mr. Olympia. Can you picture it? Me up on that stage, 6’4”, everyone else looking like a fucking pip-squeak.” “Fuck.” “Imagine what the other pros are gonna think when they see me. Every eye in the room on me. Biggest muscle freak of all time… Walking out there, 100 pounds bigger than the other guys…400 pounds of muscle… Won’t stop till I have 26 inch biceps. Gonna change the sport. Gonna be bigger than anyone ever… biggest ever…Fuck… Just imagine it bro… On stage… Everybody watching… All that freaky muscle… Thousands of people… All gasping when they see me…So big…So fucking huge… Fucking muscle…fuck…” I noticed that Frank’s face was getting flushed again. His beet-red dick had rehardened to 10.5 inches, and a shocking amount of pre-cum was once more gurgling out. Even though he had just came five minutes earlier. “See what I mean?” Frank said. “All this tren has been making me so horny, I can barely leave the room. You’re gonna need to fuck me one or two more times. Then we can go grab lunch. I want to hear how your Christmas was.” “My dick might need a few minutes—“ Frank grabbed my cum-covered face and thrust it into his fragrant pit. Sure enough, the smell was like a Pavlovian trigger. My tired dick immediately hardened. “Good,” said Frank as he saw my erection. “Let’s be quick though. I’m starving!”
    12 points
  29. Teleportation was not a form of travel Jalveth enjoyed: when expected it was a jarring experience, but when it came out of nowhere it was nauseating. The problem was that the Magisters of the Collective operated on their own schedule with scant regard for others. Jalveth took in the sumptuous furnishings of the Magister’s parlour as he tried to keep the remains of his lunch from adding to the decoration. “I take it you know why you are here?” stated the figure sat at an expansive desk without looking up from his paperwork. “No my lord,” replied Jalveth meekly and with good reason: a Magister’s word was law and they had enough power to administer any punishment they so chose. Childhood stories of what they do to those who wronged them leapt to the forefront of his mind, which he tried to repress as he hadn’t done anything wrong that might justify any form of punishment, had he? A piece of parchment levitated from the cluttered desk and floated in front of his face; it was a fairly long list: ‘Silver Goblin Trading’, ‘Griffin Claw Holdings’, ‘Black Root Alchemicals’ and others were written in a clear hand. “This is a list of accounts I administer.” said Jalveth confused, but in a contrite a fashion as he could muster. “Did you think it wouldn’t be noticed,” said the figure, looking at Jalveth for the first time since his arrival. “A crystal here, a couple of crystals there, not enough for one organisation to really notice but overall they do mount up…” “But I…” Jalveth began before a wave of paralysis suffused his entire being resulting in sudden breathlessness and a stiffness through his muscles, and to his embarrassment a similar reaction from his genitalia. “Do not interrupt,” admonished the Magister, “I am told you have a head for figures, I would have thought you more capable of covering your tracks than this; and so unoriginal, such scams have been around forever, they are even older than I.” Jalveth unable to respond was unsure how he would have if he could: he had known nineteen summers and the figure before him barely looked much older; but this was a Magister and appearances were almost certainly misleading. “We expect our computers to be intelligent, so what made you think you could get away with it?” the Magister asked looking directly at Jalveth. If the rest of his appearance did not bely his age the same could not be said of the Magister’s eyes: the black pools looked as though they had seen stars die and possibly caused them to do so. “There must be some mistake,” Jalveth squeaked, “those accounts were fine, with no crystal unaccounted for.” “Are you saying a Magister is wrong?” the man said in what seemed to be a friendly inquisitive tone. Jalveth knew better than to trust the friendly demeanour; his heart was racing as his body felt like it was betraying him: it felt hot and constrained in his clothes, not to mention he was so hard it was throbbing despite the situation, was there something about the Magister’s voice that made him feel this way? Jalveth couldn’t discount the possibility. Not that his mind was faring much better, it kept speculating on what punishments the Magister may enforce that Jalveth had trouble focusing on the situation he found himself in. “Of course not my lord,” he found himself saying, “merely that you have not been given all the information,” and wondered to himself just how he would justify that claim. “So enlighten me,” said the Magister with a tone that suggested there was nothing he didn’t already know, “who else had access to those accounts? One of your colleagues perhaps?” “No-one at the Counting House could have done it, would have done it,” replied Jalveth emphatically, “they are my friends, my family they have been nothing but helpful since I arrived at the Collective.” “And you are sure of this?” said the Magister clearly showing his view on the matter. “Only one bonded to the accounts would be able to change them.” said Jalveth firmly, “the only one bonded is…” and he trailed off as he realised the implications while the Magister just smiled at him. “Please,” Jalveth begged, “let me speak to my colleagues, maybe they will have some idea how this has happened.” “Oh you won’t be returning to the Counting House.” said the Magister, “By your own admission it is clear you are responsible: either it is deliberate for which you need punishing or accidental which shows you to be a liability; either way you cannot be trusted to look after the finances of others.” “But my smarts, my skill with numbers, that’s all I have,” wailed Jalveth as he prostrated himself before the Magister. Bringing his hands together in a begging gesture caused an audible ripping noise from his tunic and Jalveth looked at his body for the first time since his arrival. The reason for the constrained feeling was now obvious: he was larger than he should be, his slim scrawny build was replaced by a somewhat more athletic one. “There are many ways to serve the Collective,” said the Magister, “and if your suitability is wrong then we can easily change it, there are many positions that require less cerebral acumen and more physical presence such as soldier or labourer or…” “Please don’t make me a pleasure slave!” Jalveth begged crying. “Oh so you know about the pleasure slaves then,” the Magister stated, “just by reputation, or have you partaken?” “My colleagues organised it, they said it was a rite of passage.” replied Jalveth but his focus was diverted by the figure that had magically appeared in the chamber. He was magnificent: large powerful legs supported a strongly defined core, but still with a fairly narrow waist, which in turn were surmounted by a pair of pronounced pectorals that competed for space with a pair of massive arms, but the crowning achievement was the huge organ protruding from his groin. It arced up through the deep valley of the pecs and stopped just below where a beautiful face was waiting. It was only the expression and look behind the eyes that let the figure down for Jalveth: there was little sign of intelligence or even awareness there. The figure had not reacted to its translocation and it seemed was awaiting any sort of instruction for a while, which means it stood motionless for some time. Eventually, whether it finally realised nothing was forthcoming, or more likely just following its baser instincts moved to take the massive head of its member in its mouth and started pleasing itself. Jalveth watched mesmerised as the figure bounced its pecs, together and separately, to stimulate the shaft of its immense penis in complete oblivion to its surroundings. Not that the figure was the only one. “I said what was it like to be fucked by a pleasure slave,” said the Magister testily, completely ignoring the figure’s arrival. “Huh,” said Jalveth distracted, “but I didn’t…” and when his brain caught up to his mouth felt the need to clarify: “I wanted to but it was so large and I got scared and just spent the time worshipping his body.” “You do know they are ensorcelled to provide only pleasure and no pain?” Asked the Magister in a flat tone to which Jalveth gave a slow calculated nod. “Ensorcelled by a Magister, so which is it you doubt, our skill or our power?” Jalveth doubted neither as both were clearly evident in the way his tunic burst in multiple places from the strain, he could feel his bulging biceps resting on his protruding chest, neither adjective would anyone have considered attributing to Jalveth before now. His breeches had so far still remained intact but it was clear they would not remain so if he underwent another growth spurt. The bulge at the front was large and the confined space was beginning to pinch uncomfortably. “Ah I see how it is, this all makes sense,” said the Magister looking at Jalveth who was exploring the changes in his body with his hands, but his eyes were still focussed on the activities of the third person in the room. “It is because you are jealous of the pleasure slaves.” the Magister said as a statement of fact and not a question. “Well who wouldn’t be?” replied Jalveth, “after all they were made by the Magisters as perfect physical specimens. Are you doubting the Magister’s skill? Or their power?” Jalveth groaned internally as he realised what he had just uttered, how stupid was he to rile one who had so much power, Jalveth braced himself for the inevitable consequences. Which never came, instead the Magister just laughed, “I suppose I could have phrased that better, tell me were you happy in the Counting House?” Jalveth nearly blurted out ‘of course’ but thought better of it, “I had a job I could do easily, colleagues that supported me, and it paid enough to meet my needs.” Jalveth eventually said carefully choosing his words. “But did that make you happy?” said the Magister in a tone that was clear that he knew the answer but wanted to hear Jalveth say it. “No,” Jalveth admitted, “the work was dull, I did it because I could and not because I wanted to; my colleagues were friendly because they were my colleagues and not because of me and while my needs were met there was little extra for anything else.” “And then you met a pleasure slave, you thought you would be the superior one in the situation despite his physical attributes you were the free one, the one with the intellect; however, you realised that of the two of you only he was happy with his life and you were envious of that.” explained the Magister. “But he was so stupid,” retorted Jalveth, “all he could do was grunt or talk in a monosyl…, a mono…, in one word answers and only then about his body or sex.” At the mention of the word sex the third person in the room ceased their self-ministrations and moved towards Jalveth seductively; the giant ever-erect penis bouncing back and forth as he moved until he came to a stop in front of Jalveth and took up a pose that showed off his muscular body. Jalveth gulped involuntarily as he forced himself not to lean forward, not to touch and was fighting an impulse to join him in flexing. The Magister continued to act as though the other man was not even in the room. “Really, you were stuck in a role you despised in a life you thought had no meaning, whereas he was someone who really enjoyed his work, who would be thrilled to be in the company of his colleagues and whose needs and desires were both met without his input. That is what you were jealous of, that is why you wanted to be him.” elucidated the Magister. “But I don’t want to be dumb, my intelligence, my skill with numbers is all I have, it’s all I am!” Jalveth exclaimed, tears running down his face. “But has that intelligence ever made you happy, or is it what is holding you back from getting what you really want?” The Magister began. Jalveth opened his mouth to respond but stopped when the Magister raised his hand. “It was your ‘intelligence’ that stopped you experiencing the joys of that pleasure slave. It is the same ‘intelligence’ that is trying to plan a way out of this but is ignoring your desires, it is not even realising they are showing themselves anyway.” Jalveth looked confused and was surprised when the pleasure slave gently wiped the tears from his eyes. The Magister continued, “ You were the one to suggest being turned into a pleasure slave, in fact it is what you have been thinking about since you arrived in my chamber; I wonder if your subconscious forced you to make those mistakes to bring us to this outcome.” “But I didn’t, I wouldn’t…” Jalveth sobbed, “I don’t know what you want from me?” “Simple,” answered the Magister, “I just want you to tell me what you want, what you really want.” Jalveth knew he was stuck, his strategy had been to tell the Magister exactly what he wanted to hear, but clearly what the Magister wanted to hear was what was clearly something that was not intelligent to say; as such his thoughts led in circles as his brain tried to find a way out of the contradiction. In the confusion this meant that his mouth was operating unsupervised, “I want to be a pleasure slave,” Jalveth mumbled quietly. “Sorry what was that?” said the Magister who had clearly heard what he said. “I want to be a pleasure slave!” Jalveth said louder and with more conviction, “I want to be so dumb that I don’t know what a number is, let alone what to do with one! And I want to be so big that anyone who sees me will be awestruck to the point where they can’t think of them either! I want to spend my days having sex with anyone, with everyone! But most of all I want to be happy!” “There, that wasn’t so difficult,” said the Magister, “I think you deserve a reward for your honesty.” and with that the pleasure slave moved behind Jalveth with clear intent. Jalveth was confused, how did that make any sense? Just saying what should have been a bad idea somehow was going to see him receive the sex he had foolishly denied himself in the past? Magisters may have tremendous power but Jalveth wasn’t entirely sure of their sanity. Not that was his most pressing concern: he was harder than he’d ever been before in his entire life; but as his breeches burst from the strain the nature of this ‘reward’ became obvious. His erection was growing at a rate that was clearly visible to the eye and from the heat that pervaded his body that growth was not limited to his sex organ. Jalveth’s mind was not willing to go without a fight, and following his earlier declaration was repeating simple random multiplication to prove it couldn’t be banished that easily. ‘Four by twelve is forty-eight’ The pleasure slave removed the remains of Jalveth’s tattered clothing by ripping them off his body ‘Seven by eight is fifty-six’, the pleasure slave put his hand on Jalveth’s surprisingly hairy rear and Jalveth shot the biggest load of his life which stopped him thinking of anything for a while. When he came to his senses he looked down to see that his cock had reached his large hairy pecs. Jalveth had always been ashamed of his body hair and considering that both the pleasure slave in the room and the one he’d encountered earlier had smooth bodies it was a surprise that he not only retained his body hair, it was not thinned out by the muscle growth, but if anything was denser, thicker and more widespread. ‘Eight by five is fuckty… er forty’ Jalveth thought as he reached down to check on his balls, his stance had widened to accommodate the size of his legs and that gave his balls which were significantly larger, and hairier, more room. Jalveth gave them a squeeze and was rewarded with another large load. ‘Seven by four is… forty?’ Jalveth thought as he flexed a large hairy arm and watched as it grow before his eyes. ‘Six by nine is… six by nine is…, six by… sex…, sex!’ Jalveth thought as his cock was now at a point where he could easily take it into his mouth; which he did so with gusto. What looked up after he shot yet another huge load, this time into his hungry mouth which he slurped up greedily, was in no way bothered by multiplication; with numbers at least. It looked down on the pleasure slave before it and realised he was bigger than the man in all aspects including height. “Me big,” it said eventually. The pleasure slave took the opportunity to caress Jalveth’s furry bulk: gently stroking the soft hair across the bulging muscle. Jalveth wanted to tell him how attractive he found the man, what he wanted to do to him and what he wanted from the man but the words weren’t there. Eventually he settled on a single word that expressed all his feelings: “Fuck” “Fuck?” came the reply from the pleasure slave. “Fuck!” replied Jalveth with a smile and pulled the other pleasure slave into a passionate embrace. “Oh Boys!” called a voice from near a large bed, the only furniture in the room. For some reason Jalveth had a feeling something was wrong about that, but he couldn’t see what would be wrong with a hot guy calling him over to a bed. The Magister moved his hand and his clothing vanished revealing a tight muscular body and what would be considered a large cock in any other company, he kneeled on the large bed pushing his rear seductively in the air. A test for the new pleasure slave, which was on the way to scoring high marks as the Magister felt the tickle of a soft beard before a tongue masterfully worked at his hole. The other pleasure slave was before him and the Magister had no hesitation in taking as much of his manhood into his mouth as he could. In other circumstances the Magister would have grown his body to match them and switched off for a night of mindless debauchery; alas he had other duties that needed attending beforehand, primarily figuring out just who had framed Jalveth in the first place. If the young man had used the intellect he’s claimed to possess to be more suspicious of his colleagues then maybe he wouldn’t be in this position, using his tongue to devastating effect, as his naivety must have played a part in being chosen as the scapegoat. That and his appearance: Jalveth may not have realised with his insecurities but he was a very attractive man; to the extent that the Magister had little to do to his countenance in his transformation, essentially just making sure his face fit with the massive hairy muscle-bound moron he’d become, and frankly the beard had done most of that work for him. People think that magic can do anything, and by and large it can, but it still has its limitations. Even with knowing what was done the Magister could think of seven ways that Jalveth’s credentials could have been faked and was not arrogant enough to consider that to be an exhaustive list. Add to that not knowing who, when or why led to too many variables. The Magister had a spell trying to resolve it but with the lack of information would take a long time to report; it would be very surprising indeed if framing Jalveth was the whole point of the endeavour, so it was a matter of time before the real plot revealed itself and may well do so before his spell had concluded. So the Magister was relying more on a non-magical ploy: Jalveth. He felt the bulbous head of the new pleasure slave’s massive prick teasing his hole and the ecstatic thrill when it pushed home. Once the fate of Jalveth was announced to his colleagues the Magister expected them to lay low for a while, time they are likely to spend enjoying this very position with the new slave. Whether it will be regret about what they have done to Jalveth, or to gloat about it and fooling a Magister the culprit will have no qualms in confessing everything to someone they know doesn’t understand what they are saying. Pleasure slaves have a built-in aura of isolation that protects their clients from attack or interference when they are at their most vulnerable. The feeling of absolution at disclosing their darkest secrets and only receiving pleasure as a response was nearly as big a draw as the pleasure the slaves could bestow. Of course the slaves may not be able to understand but that didn’t mean the couldn’t listen, and repeat everything they heard to any curious Magister, but the populace would rather assume any information was discovered by magic. Jalveth would have his revenge, even if he now didn’t care about it, and his guilty former colleagues would learn there are worse punishments than becoming a pleasure slave. As for Jalveth, the Magister thought as both slaves unloaded in him simultaneously, he was too exquisite a prospect to relinquish. The Magister had considered his personal harem big enough but knew that when this was resolved there would be a place for Jalveth, one where he would have the very happy life he wished for.
    11 points
  30. ~~NINETY-EIGHT~~ HE blinked, HIS eyes struggling to cope with so many sudden changes in brightness - from dark boot, to bright sunlight, to dim interior. Nevertheless, HE looked around, trying to take in as much of HIS surroundings as HE could. The farmhouse was simple and sparsely furnished. Along with the two gunmen leading HIM inside, there were another two inside. Four in total. Not great odds. Not that HE could really do anything, this wasn’t a movie, HE wasn’t an invincible hero with mad skills. One of the gunmen took HIM through to a bedroom locking HIM inside. He returned to the living room via the kitchen, cracking open an ice cold cerveza as he flopped into one of the armchairs, tired from the long drive. “Something’s wrong.” Jesus fuck, he thought, I just sat down. But he was the ranking Hermano, it was up to him to deal with any issues. “I just fucking sat down. Your job is to babysit the safe house, what could possib—” “They haven’t checked in.” He sat bolt upright, alarmed. “And? You’ve obviously called?” “Straight to voicemail. Both of them. No response to texts.” His frown deepened, alarm rising. It was one thing for an operation to go sideways, it was another when the operation was run by the head honcho and his 2IC. The usual MO did not apply - there was no backup plan, no backup team - he had to think fast. If he screwed up, lives would be lost - no doubt including his own - or, he could find himself suddenly catapulted up the ranks - WAY up. They should still be at the prison, what could possibly have gone wrong at a prison? “Other brothers at the prison?” The shaking head told him all he needed to know. “Call the prison. Pretend you want to visit. Find out what the fuck is going on.” He took a long swig of beer, the bitter, cold liquid refreshingly biting as he swallowed but he set aside the rest, needing a clear head. The Hermano dialled, listened for a moment, then put his phone on speaker – ‘Thank you for calling Ravenwood Prison. The facility is presently on lockdown and your call is unable to be connected at this time. Please try again later. Thank you for calling Ravenwood—’ “Lockdown?” he mused aloud. That was not good. What the fuck was going on over there? *** Amber’s heart pounded so loudly in her ears, she was sure her pursuers would hear it and find her. She was worried about Scott. They were separated in the confusion and she didn’t see where he ended up. She was crouched behind a decrepit office door in an abandoned warehouse, listening carefully and trying to work out what to do next. She didn’t have a weapon, so could not confront the pursuers - not that that was a good idea, she thought, even if they didn’t outnumber her. Her only real hope, she reasoned, was to get a message out. Brad would be looking for them, she was sure, if only she could get a message to him, tell him where they were. *** Scott’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears, he was sure his pursuers would hear it and find him. He was worried about Amber. They were separated in the confusion and he didn’t see where she ended up. At least he had a weapon. He didn’t see which way she ran, and he hadn’t heard or seen any sign of their pursuers. He had to get a message out. If he could let them know where they were, they could come and rescue them. It hadn’t yet occurred to him that he had no idea where they were, so even if he could somehow get a message out, what would it say? *** Amber decided she only had one option. She had to return to the van. Hopefully Felipe was still out cold, and she could use his phone to get word out. *** Jake slowly stroked his dick as it gradually deflated, enjoying the sensations. Having delivered two massive loads, its job was done for the moment. He marvelled at the similar-but-different sensations his new and improved sperm provided. It was difficult to describe, but he had more… granular… control. His sperm seemed to be able to directly interfere in the body’s functions, enhancing, reducing or eliminating as Jake saw fit. Unlike previously, the sperm directly intercepted cell function like a virus, invading the cells and controlling their function. This seemed to be the only way for Jake to create super dense, super strong muscle. Miguel and Diego were both grinning, each self-worshipping, flexing and grunting as they pumped each muscle. Jake set his sperm to work, burrowing into Miguel’s existing muscle cells and overriding their function, setting them to grow and divide. Miguel’s groan changed tone. There was still arousal, but now there was an undertone of pain. Jake’s smile broadened as he noted the change. Miguel would soon learn to be careful what you wished for. *** She could see the van from her hidden vantage point. There were no signs of movement, but she could not see where they left Felipe, so she wasn’t sure if he was still unconscious. She was about to move from her hiding place when she heard faint voices getting louder. “…be here somewhere. If we don’t find them, they’ll kill us both. Grab the infrared cam from the van.” Infrared? Shit. Now what? They’d find them in no time, their body heat giving them away. *** Miguel was writhing in pain, his groans now definitely those of pain, all hints of arousal gone. Diego’s face was full of rage, “What the fuck did you do to him, Jake? Do you want your loved ones to die?” “I haven’t done anything he didn’t want, Diego. His muscle cells are growing, dividing, growing and dividing. He’s getting exactly what he asked for.” “So why is he in pain?” Jake shrugged, though he knew the answer. When Brad’s body was transforming, it craved massive quantities of protein. Jake remembered Brad literally eating through truck loads of food and huge vats of protein powder, and he was still hungry, his body using up every scrap of protein. Miguel’s body also needed protein - supernatural quantities of it. Only, it didn’t have any external protein, so it was using the only source of protein that was available - his own organs. His body was eating itself alive, converting essential organs to muscle fibres. No wonder he was in pain. “Stop it. Reverse your changes!” Diego yelled after Miguel let out a particularly pained groan. Jake’s smile darkened, crooked, evil. “I don’t think so, fucker.” Diego was apoplectic, “They’re all going to die! All it takes is one cal–” “Wrong again, fucker. We’re in lockdown. Good luck getting a call out. And don’t think you can whistle your way out either,” Jake’s cock swelled again as he shut off Diego’s ability to speak. But he wasn’t done yet. “You see, you sadistic fuck, nobody threatens me or my friends or family. Nobody.” As he spoke, Jake rooted around in Diego’s brain, looking for the mental block… there. Pre spurted from Jake’s cock as realisation washed over Diego’s face. He remembered, now. What Jake could do, what he had done. Diego tried to scream, but his jaw would not move. “Shhhh…. Quiet now, one of you is already making too much noise, we don’t need you adding to the din.” Miguel continued to writhe, his body continuing to convert the protein in his organs to muscle. It wouldn’t be long now, thought Jake. Diego whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes. It was a pathetic sight, really, this massive, hunky man whimpering and welling up tears. “Hey, look on the bright side. If you survive, congratulations - you’ll be the leader of the Hermanos. I’m a reasonable man. Tell me what I want to know, and you’ll live. Refuse… well.” As Jake reminded Diego of his abilities, his screams echoed through the room, even through his clenched jaw.
    11 points
  31. Welcome I am Roma your new cell mate, I am 6ft1 and 325lbs, I see the lust in your eyes, looking at my 25 inch biceps, come here buddy and put your hand around them, oh a little close I can feel your hard-on rubbing up against my dick, feels like you have an impressive piece of meat, what is it 8 inches? Very nice, I like your build too, 5' 11" and 270lbs? that's a nice weight, I think we are gonna have a lot of fun with each other, and with the other inmates. I am versatile and love take it as hard as I can give it, I love taking a thick dick like yours in my mouth and up my ass, I am hard as rock now, oh yeah grab the fucker hard, take it out, yeah I am not small either 9x7 with bull balls full of cum. Turn around I wanna see that mancunt, ehmm nice Beefy hairy ass, let me get at it, it feels so nice in my calloused hands, I need to get my tongue in there, oh fuck it tastes fucking delicious. Oh fuck, look what you made me you have made me cum, just by rimming your fantastic hole, quick get on your knees before I finish cumming, take it in your mouth but don't swallow it, spit half of it out and lube your cock up with it, and spit the rest onto my hole, Oh yeah get your fingers into my shoot. Ehhh fuck you are not shy, fuck you are finger fucking me with 4 fingers, fuck open me up, oh shit, I need your cock in my hole breed me. God damn it might be shorter than my cock, but it feels as thick as a fist, oh yeah, fuck me, fuck me harder, hurt me, you are good at this. Hold let's change position let me get on my back I want to see you fuck me, oh you are so handsome, your tongue feels so good, you are a great kisser. Fuck you are fucking me like a machine, I can feel you swelling inside me, I can tell you are close, breed me buddy, get me pregnant, fill me with your cum, oh fuck you cum as much as me. You pull out whilst still cumming, grab my head and push your thick 8x8 ass destroyer in my mouth and flood me with your load, it tastes fucking delicious. You take your cock out and kiss my cum filled mouth, let's get a rest for 5 minutes and then I want to fuck your brains out. 7 notes
    10 points
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